Chapter 3

“Shite!”

I rushed forward, only to nearly step on a shard of glass.

Startled, I looked around.

Broken glass was scattered everywhere around Shite, and puddles of some unidentified liquid lay here and there across the floor.

It looked like one of the substances he used in his research.

I needed to clear away the glass before I could check his condition, but the shards were covered in that strange liquid.

I couldn’t touch them with my bare hands.

The moment that thought crossed my mind, I grabbed a pillow and used it to sweep the glass aside before hurrying to Shite’s side.

“Shite! Shite, wake up!”

I shouted and shook his shoulder.

There was no response.

Not even a groan.

He seemed completely unconscious.

Or…

Biting my lip, I reached for his pulse.

My fingertips were trembling so badly that I couldn’t tell if I felt anything.

I clenched and unclenched my fist once before trying again.

This time I placed my fingers against his neck.

There it was.

Faint, but definitely present.

A pulse.

However, the skin beneath my fingertips was ice-cold.

And he wasn’t breathing.

I have to save him.

Nothing else mattered.

I pushed his shoulder and rolled him onto his back.

Tilting his chin upward, I breathed air into his lungs.

His chest rose.

Then fell.

Again.

And again.

After several attempts, his breathing gradually returned.

The moment I confirmed it, all the tension left my body.

I collapsed onto the floor.

Only then did I properly notice his clothes.

They were drenched with rainwater.

The blood staining his coat, however, stood out vividly.

There had to be a serious wound underneath.

I need to get a doctor before it’s too late—!

I reached for the lamp and started to stand.

Suddenly, a powerful hand seized my wrist.

“Eek!”

The lamp slipped from my grasp and rolled across the floor.

My body tilted backward.

A massive shadow immediately filled my vision.

Large hands caught my struggling wrists one after another and pinned them beside my head.

Crash!

Thunder and lightning struck simultaneously.

Light flashed.

For a brief instant, Shite’s face emerged from the darkness before vanishing again.

His eyes, usually dull and unfocused, were startlingly clear.

And filled with unmistakable hostility.

As though he could draw a blade and kill me at any moment.

Goosebumps rose along my arms and neck.

I twisted desperately, trying to escape from beneath him.

It was useless.

The more I struggled, the harder he pinned me down.

Was he always this strong?

Shocked, I stared up at him.

Shite murmured to himself.

“What is going on?”

“That—that’s what I should be asking! I came in because I was worried about you, and now you’re crushing me—”

“Worried?”

Tilting his head slightly, Shite looked genuinely puzzled.

He stared at my face for a long moment.

Examining me as though he had never seen me before.

“That’s an unfamiliar face. Are you a maid?”

“Me? A maid?”

“Or perhaps an assassin?”

What was with the assassin nonsense all of a sudden?

Completely dumbfounded, I answered anyway.

“I’m your wife.”

“Then it seems someone’s investigation was insufficient. Calling yourself my wife when I’ve never married.”

“What are you talking about? We got married a year ago.”

“You and I?”

“Yes. You accepted an enormous dowry, too.”

“Then are you saying you married a man interested only in your money?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Why else? Because of Melvern Empire’s ridiculous inheritance laws!”

That was the truth.

Under Melvern inheritance law, a woman could inherit property only if she fulfilled one of three conditions.

First, she became the head of the family.

Second, she inherited the family business.

Third, she got married.

The third condition was especially awful.

If a woman divorced before having children, she was required to return her inheritance.

There was only one reason I’d chosen marriage despite that risk.

I didn’t want to live like my parents.

I didn’t want to spend my entire life working only to die meaninglessly in the end.

“You were never interested in me. Only in my money. Honestly, that made things easier for me too, so I agreed to marry you.”

Our marriage had always been a contract.

I paid him an enormous dowry and generous living expenses.

He maintained the marriage.

Divorce was forbidden.

Neither of us interfered in the other’s private life.

It was a cold relationship.

One that barely fulfilled even the minimum obligations of husband and wife.

But still…

“How can you not recognize your own wife’s face?”

“Hm.”

Shite released my wrists and straightened slightly.

The weight pressing on my stomach became lighter.

Now!

I shoved against his thigh and tried to wriggle free.

Nothing happened.

His body didn’t move an inch.

Like pushing against a boulder.

How are his thighs this solid? He spends every day locked inside doing research!

Though he appeared thin, he was surprisingly muscular.

The strength wasn’t obvious from a glance, but his body was packed with dense muscle.

If he truly wanted to hurt me, he easily could.

For the first time, I realized Shite might actually be dangerous.

My body stiffened instinctively.

Don’t provoke him.

Putting on the gentle smile I so often used, I spoke soothingly.

“Why don’t you get off me first? We don’t have to discuss this in such an awkward position.”

I relaxed completely, trying to show that I wasn’t resisting or threatening him.

Yet Shite remained exactly where he was.

He simply brushed his long bangs back and looked down at me.

The way he looked down at people seemed strangely familiar.

…And completely unlike Shite.

He felt like an entirely different person.

I couldn’t predict what he would do next.

Swallowing nervously, I looked up at him.

Blood trickled from his temple, tracing the sharp line of his jaw.

Shite wiped it away with the back of his hand.

Then a smile appeared.

A kind of smile I’d never seen on him before.

“I still haven’t learned who you really are.”

“I already told you. I’m your wife.”

“If you fail to answer properly, you’ll regret it.”

Shite smiled coldly.

As though generously granting me time to think, he remained silent while continuing to pin me down.

I was so stunned that no words came out.

When I merely opened and closed my mouth, he changed his approach.

His smile softened.

His tone became polite.

Almost as though he were doing me a favor.

“Very well, wife. Then perhaps you’d like to tell me what sort of person you are. While you’re at it, you may also tell me who hired you.”

Was he joking?

His expression was far too serious for that.

I couldn’t make sense of the situation at all.

As I blinked in confusion, a drop of blood landed on my cheek.

Shite’s forehead had split open.

He must have struck the corner of a drawer when he fell.

That’s it.

He hit his head and damaged something.

To confirm my suspicion, I spoke seriously.

“Do you really not remember who I am?”

“You woke me with a kiss. Are you some princess from a fairy tale?”

A sigh escaped me automatically.

That ridiculous joke convinced me.

“Shite. You hit your head when you fell, didn’t you? Did you lose your memory? Or maybe something’s wrong mentally…? Do you at least know who you are?”

At my serious question, Shite frowned.

Tilting his head, he let his gray hair slide across one side of his face.

His chestnut eyes seemed strangely cold.

He reached to brush aside the strands hanging before his eyes.

Then stopped.

Slowly, he began looking around the room.

For the first time, the relaxed expression he’d worn throughout this ordeal began to crack.

His brow furrowed deeper and deeper.

Then suddenly—

He froze.

His eyes widened.

So wide that the entirety of his chestnut irises became visible.

What on earth is he looking at?

I followed his gaze.

Expecting something extraordinary.

Instead, he was staring at an ordinary mirror.

Did he see a ghost or something?

Thinking I’d missed something, I narrowed my eyes and looked carefully.

Nothing had changed.

The reflection showed only two people.

Shite.

And me beneath him.

Meanwhile, Shite rose as if possessed and walked toward the mirror.

He examined his reflection from every angle.

Frowning.

Touching his face repeatedly.

Then, suddenly, he grabbed the frame and shoved his face so close to the glass that it looked as though—

At this rate, he’s going to kiss the mirror.

Yep.

He had definitely hit his head harder than I thought.