MAS 01

-chapter 1-

The first thing I did upon waking was check the calendar.

“September 13th.”

‘So, this day has finally come.’

Today was…

the day my husband, who had gone off to war, would return after seven years.

It was also the day I would hand him the divorce papers.

I took a deep, steadying breath.

‘Don’t chicken out. If I get through today properly, my part is done.’

Seven years ago, I was nothing more than a minor noble and had practically been sold off into marriage.

My husband’s family was the empire’s one-and-only ducal house, and under normal circumstances, it would have been nearly impossible for someone as insignificant as my family to connect with them.

The whole mess started because the emperor was wary of the ducal house, which held the succession rights.

The emperor had a son, but the boy was weak, and perhaps because of that, the emperor was extremely cautious.

‘Still… targeting a nameless baronial family seems a bit much.’

The emperor used every excuse he could to crush the ducal house like a mouse underfoot.

Some pitied the ducal family, but no one dared step forward for fear of falling out of the emperor’s favor.

The emperor’s petty schemes didn’t stop there.

He staged the death of the previous duke as an accident and, as soon as my young husband ascended to the title, sent him straight to the battlefield.

And this wasn’t even a war fought on home soil—it was in a foreign country.

They called it a campaign for international diplomacy or something like that.

It was dressed up as something to protect the honor of the empire and the ducal house, but sending a mere thirteen-year-old child to war was basically a death sentence.

In fact, no one expected him to survive.

Yet against all odds, he returned as the war’s top hero.

He had gained the unshakable trust and honor of the neighboring empire.

There was no longer any need to be under the emperor’s thumb. That had been the condition for the war, after all.

‘Which means… he has no obligation to continue our marriage either!’

If people knew I strongly wanted a divorce, they would find it strange.

A handsome duke, returning in all glory…

And here I was, his wife, supposedly living a golden life.

But that was only the perception of those who didn’t know the real situation.

Because…

“Milady, the master has just arrived.”

I was startled by the timely announcement from beyond the door.

Checking the time, I nearly jumped out of my skin again.

It was 8 a.m.

‘Seriously? I at least deserve some time to prepare myself!’

Originally, my husband wasn’t supposed to return for another year.

He came a whole year early—and arrived so early in the morning as well.

‘Stay calm.’

I rubbed my damp palms on my dress and tried to steady my trembling heart.

Soon, the maids came in to help me get ready.

Even so, my gaze kept drifting to the drawer where I had placed the divorce papers.

This was it. The end. Goodbye to this wretched mansion.

‘I’ve already signed my part. Now I just need his seal, and then I can submit it to the temple.’

Once I was ready, I recalled the plan I had rehearsed countless times and headed to the reception room.

I had to calm my pounding heart repeatedly, worried I might make a mistake and mess everything up.

‘Time only flies when you don’t want it to.’

The mansion, which I usually found so vast that I could get lost in it, now felt smaller than a cramped room.

I took a deep breath and lightly knocked.

—Knock, knock.

No response, of course—but he wasn’t the type to answer.

With the thought that it was better to face the problem head-on, I opened the door immediately.

The moment I did, my eyes met my husband’s, who was sitting on the sofa.

It had been exactly seven years.

Suddenly, memories of when we first met came flooding back.

We had both been children then.

‘Though we weren’t together for even three months…’

Seven years had changed him so much that he was almost unrecognizable.

Still, I recognized him instantly.

Those sharp yellow eyes were unforgettable.

My husband, who had been remarkably handsome even as a child, had grown even more so than I imagined.

Saying he was good-looking felt like an understatement.

As a child, he had reminded me of a wildcat; now, he resembled a majestic black panther.

The black panther bared its white teeth in a smile.

“No way… it’s him.”

No, not the panther—it was my husband.

His voice, once high like any boy’s, had deepened into a rich baritone.

The transformation was as striking as his appearance.

‘Wait… did he just smile?’

He had never smiled in front of me before. He simply couldn’t.

A shiver ran down my spine at the sight of this unfamiliar side of him.

I forced myself to calm down.

Right, maybe he’s just gotten used to social life in my absence.

I swallowed hard.

Slowly, I let go of the doorknob and awkwardly smiled at him.

“L-Long time… no see.”

I hesitated mid-sentence.

‘Should I speak formally?’

We were only a year apart in age. Back then, I had spoken casually, using my youth as an excuse. In retrospect, that was crazy.

After a brief pause, I added softly, “…sir.”

His reply came immediately.

“Formal? That doesn’t suit you.”

‘This guy…’

I felt a surge of irritation but hid it behind a bright smile.

“It’s not strange for married couples to use formal language, right?”

“Married couples…”

He muttered the words with a curious expression and then chuckled.

“I prefer calling you by your name.”

Ah, so now that we’re divorcing, he doesn’t even want to hear the word “husband and wife.”

That wasn’t entirely a bad thing.

Married… after only three months together, calling ourselves that was ridiculous anyway.

So I slowly said his name.

“Sideron.”

His eyebrows twitched.

“Not that.”

Huh?

“Sideron Parden Ashitrea.”

“…Are you doing this on purpose?”

He looked displeased.

Why that reaction? I couldn’t have forgotten his name.

Then it hit me.

“Your Grace, Ashitrea?”

His expression darkened further.

…That wasn’t right either?

I murmured hesitantly.

“…Shion?”

His face broke into a wide smile, as if confirming the correct answer.

“Are you just going to stand there?”

He gestured openly for me to sit, so I timidly sat across from him.

Even as I took my seat, his gaze remained locked on me.

‘What is it… is there something on my face?’

His stare was so blatant it made me self-conscious.

Ah… maybe it’s that.

‘I have gotten a bit prettier.’

It felt odd to say it myself, but I was fairly attractive.

Even as a child, I had been quite pretty, and I had safely passed the treacherous age of sixteen.

Not goddess-level, but enough to make people glance back.

‘Well, what do you think? Even you can’t resist my looks—’

“You still look ugly.”

“…W-What?”

I nearly dropped the cup I had raised to take a sip in surprise.

“Not changed at all.”

What? I’ve changed so much! The maids all praised me!

I muttered angrily under my breath.

“You’ve changed quite a bit, though.”

He, being sharp-eared, immediately responded.

“No, I haven’t changed at all.”

‘Sharp-eared guy.’

But he didn’t seem annoyed—if anything, he seemed amused.

Relieved… maybe?

I took a nervous sip of tea and subtly examined his condition.

Considering he had been at war for so long, he looked remarkably well.

He even looked somewhat relieved.

‘Now’s the time.’

I took out the divorce papers I had been carefully keeping and handed them to him.

“What’s this?”

“Seven years ago, I told you I would divorce you once you returned safely, remember?”

I added the formal speech awkwardly, and he gave me a light glare as if I were doing something strange.

Then he grabbed the papers from my hand and began reading them.

Seeing his expression darken so quickly, I spoke in a trembling voice.

“You promised… once you returned safely from the war, you’d divorce me as I wished.”

I wasn’t particularly brave, but I had definitely secured his agreement in my childhood.

‘I swore I’d survive the battlefield and divorce someone like him in style.’

What had I said back then? Oh, I remember.

‘I said I’d demand a hefty settlement and live lavishly…’

“Ha.”

A short exhale followed by a grim voice.

“Do you really think this is appropriate… to say to a husband returning from war after seven years?”

His face, along with the papers, contorted.

“Uh…?”

“Divorce…”

Why…? Why is he upset?

Had I done something wrong?

While I frantically searched for a reason, a sudden crackle of fire and the smell of burning filled the air.

The papers in his hand—my divorce papers—were on fire.

I instinctively realized I was doomed and stammered in panic.

“You… you said… no! You said you’d divorce me!”

The main reason I wanted a divorce…

Was…

“Milady, what did you just say?”

The divorce papers, burning fiercely, had turned to ashes and fallen to the floor.

My husband was a psychopath, viewing no one as his equal—a villain straight out of a novel.

Watching the ashes scatter, I had an instinctive realization.

I was completely screwed…