Prologue
“My wife. The weather is lovely today, so shall we get a divorce?”
I stopped walking and turned my head.
What kind of nonsense was that supposed to be?
What was the logic behind it?
When our eyes met, Shite smiled.
Chestnut-brown eyes gleaming brightly in the sunlight. Ash-gray hair swaying in the breeze.
A radiant smile that contrasted with his otherwise dull coloring.
Shite Hunniswald was looking at me with an expression perfectly suited to a beautiful spring day.
…Though the words coming out of his mouth were the complete opposite of that gentle-looking face.
So that’s why he suddenly suggested a walk.
And after all that, what was he saying?
A divorce?
Ha! The audacity.
“What does the weather being nice have to do with getting a divorce?”
“If one gets divorced on a pleasant day, wouldn’t it feel a little less unpleasant?”
“It wouldn’t.”
“Or perhaps, since the weather is so nice, you could be in the mood for a divorce?”
“What kind of ridiculous nonsense is that? …And what exactly is this ‘mood’ you’re talking about?”
“Well. A mood for divorce?”
Was he trying to play word games with me?
I barely swallowed the surge of irritation rising in my chest and forced a smile.
“I have absolutely no desire to be in that kind of mood.”
“How unfortunate.”
Though he said that, Shite didn’t look unfortunate in the slightest.
“My wife. If you ever wish to reclaim the surname ‘Rootshild,’ please let me know. My divorce papers are always signed and stamped.”
Without the slightest hesitation, Shite turned around.
Then, as if he had never invited me on a walk in the first place, he strode straight back into the mansion by himself.
Left standing alone in the garden, I let out a hollow laugh.
“Ha! Seriously… Hah!”
I was so dumbfounded that words failed me.
Trying to cool my overheated head, I repeatedly ran both hands through my hair.
Soft, wavy pale-blue strands slipped through my fingers.
The smooth sensation, free of tangles, made me feel a little better—
Like hell it did!
“No, what the hell is wrong with that man?!”
The anger boiling all the way to the top of my head refused to die down.
And naturally so.
Every conversation I’d had with Shite over the past few days had been like this.
What on earth happened to him?
Shite Hunniswald.
Originally, he barely spoke to me.
When he did, he stammered out only the necessary words in a voice so quiet it was nearly impossible to hear.
His posture was so hunched that his tall frame looked small, and his eyes constantly darted toward me in awkward glances.
He was the sort of person who felt gloomy and vaguely unsettling.
The only fortunate thing was that he rarely left his room, so we hardly ever crossed paths.
The man I’d lived with like a stranger suddenly changed after that stormy day.
Out of nowhere, he started showing up punctually for every meal and saying things like:
“The breakfast is excellent. The chef must have put considerable effort into it. Should we get divorced in honor of his hard work?”
Or he’d suddenly hand me an envelope and say:
“I devoted great care to writing this. Please accept it.”
And when I opened it, it would be divorce papers.
Then there was:
“I heard you enjoy horseback riding, so I wished to present you with a fine horse.”
And when I looked at the horse, its name was Farewell.
To make matters worse, the back of a necklace pendant he gifted me had the following inscription engraved on it:
To the you who is most beautiful when alone.
At this point, every breath Shite Hunniswald took sounded like:
Divorce.
Please.
Thinking back on all the outrageous things he’d done over the past few days, my anger reached its peak.
There’s a limit to how much someone can torment another person. Isn’t this going way too far?
I couldn’t just sit back and take it anymore.
I marched straight into the mansion.
Up the stairs, down the corridor, and then I threw open the door to Shite’s room.
Despite my sudden intrusion, he showed no sign of surprise and merely looked up leisurely.
“What is it?”
“I genuinely don’t understand. It’s not like I cheated on you, and it’s not like I disgraced the family name. Up until a few days ago, there wasn’t anything particularly wrong with our relationship! So why do you keep asking for a divorce?”
Shite flipped over the document he had been reading and set it down.
His unwavering gaze settled on my face.
As my initial embarrassment dulled some of my anger, I realized my voice had been louder than usual.
My expression probably wasn’t pleasant either.
I must have been frowning fiercely.
I likely looked aggressive and threatening.
The awareness that I had behaved without dignity struck me.
Almost reflexively, I glanced around to see if anyone else had witnessed my outburst.
Fortunately, there was no one in the room besides Shite.
Calm down.
Calm down.
Getting emotional wouldn’t help anything.
I forced down the fury rising to the crown of my head and pulled my lips into a smile.
Then I spoke to him as gently as I could.
“Instead of suddenly demanding a divorce, tell me the reason. If there’s a problem, I’ll work together with you to find a solution.”
Shite still didn’t look away.
Slowly, he rose from his seat.
He rounded the desk and approached me with measured steps.
One step.
Then another.
His shadow stretched long across the floor and crept over my body.
The backlight obscured his expression.
The atmosphere around him was completely different from when he smiled.
The pressure he exuded made me want to shrink back.
Don’t let him see you’re intimidated.
I straightened my shoulders and forced my retreating legs to stay put.
When I lifted my chin, Shite’s face was right there.
Close enough that I could feel his breath.
His chestnut eyes moved slowly, tracing the lines of my eyes and cheeks.
Then he smiled.
A perfect smile.
One completely devoid of warmth.
The smile of a ruler.
Could Shite really make an expression like that?
No.
Absolutely not.
A ruler’s smile?
Please.
He was a man who barely knew how to smile at all.
And yet this same man was now radiating authority as naturally as someone born to command?
If it were the old Shite, he wouldn’t have been able to imitate it even poorly.
I was certain of it.
Just as I tilted my head in confusion at the strange sense of incongruity, Shite gently pushed me away.
“You say you’ll put your heads together with me and think of a solution. I appreciate the kind and adorable offer, my wife. However, the only way you can help me—”
“……”
“—is by getting a divorce.”
Bang!
The door slammed shut right in front of my face.
I was so dumbfounded that a disbelieving laugh escaped me.
No, seriously.
This was driving me insane.
Why had he suddenly become a man obsessed with divorce?
He was the one who proposed to me in the first place!
