"You," Kaian said quietly, his voice cold as winter frost. "Are you searching for a place to die?"
I said nothing.
I'd always thought Kaian's expression was cold and angry. But seeing those eyes now—truly furious—sent a chill through my entire body.
*I won't escape discovery.*
I'd hidden my coughing and blood spitting well until now, but my luck had clearly run out. Unlike the Valmonde doctors who had lied to Hannah and the servants, the castle physicians here would surely discover the truth during examination. They would know I was dying before I did.
"Since when?" Kaian's voice cut like a blade. "Your condition suggests the illness started before our marriage."
His anger was plain to see.
*Why is he angry?* I wondered. I'd assumed he wouldn't care.
"Isn't that... a good thing?" I ventured carefully. "Because I'm Vermont. It would be better if I disappeared early."
His eyes narrowed sharply at my words.
"It's not the marriage you wanted," I said quietly, avoiding his gaze.
The realization that Kaian hadn't wanted me felt like peeling back layers of grief.
---
On my wedding day, he had signed the vows and family register with cold efficiency, said nothing, and departed without greeting. The only words I'd heard from him were a flat "Yes" when asked if he would take Claudel Quinn Vermont as his wife. Then he'd turned and commanded, "I must leave immediately. Have my horse prepared."
That was all.
Our first night together, he hadn't even asked my name.
"Don't make me repeat myself. What is your name?"
"Claudel Quinn... Vermont."
I'd tried to rationalize it at the time. Didn't all nobles marry this way? Royal order, great distances between north and south, inability to meet before the ceremony... it was all standard procedure.
But when he'd asked my name, something fragile inside me had shattered.
Then I'd heard him mutter, "That damn Vermont."
In that moment, I understood exactly where I stood.
I was like a stone suddenly dropped on an enemy's house—a nuisance, a problem to be eliminated.
---
"Does that mean it's acceptable to deceive because you didn't want this marriage?" Kaian's voice was sharp with sarcasm.
"...That—"
"How amusing. So you've tricked me into taking a defective bride?" He leaned closer. "The senile Duke of Vermont has lost his wits entirely."
I flinched at the violence in his words.
"I will destroy everything alive and breathing in the Valmonde estate," he continued coldly.
"No!" The word escaped before I could stop it.
"The Duke... my Father," I said, my voice barely a whisper. "He doesn't know."
I lied without thinking, without planning to. My instinct was simply to protect him—to protect Vermont—even as I watched Kaian's rage descend like an ax.
"He doesn't know?" Kaian's expression was contemptuous. "Does that mean I wasn't deceived?"
"I—"
I clutched the blanket with trembling hands. Pain lanced through my chest.
Facing this furious man, I could see it clearly: the tragedy that would befall Valmonde, the destruction his anger would unleash. I had thought I only needed to endure my own death. I'd never imagined I would become caught in this conflict—complicit, liable, a target for his wrath.
I'd believed the Duke's threat to backstab Temnes was my father's burden to bear, not mine. After my death, what did it matter?
"You will not die in peace," Kaian said, his voice like ice.
"Because I won't allow it."
Then he was gone, leaving my bedroom without looking back, his anger radiating like heat from a furnace.
I lay in the dark, shaking and shocked.
---
## Kaian
Late into the night, heavy footsteps echoed harshly through the castle corridors.
"Shit."
Kaian felt heat rising through his body as if his hair would stand on end. He had never been this angry.
"My Lord," the butler said carefully, hurrying to keep pace.
"Bring me a drink."
"Alcohol, sir?"
Kaian didn't drink without good reason. The butler's surprise was warranted.
"Bring something strong. Immediately."
Kaian headed to his bedroom, then immediately regretted it. The sight of the enormous bed—so empty in the spacious room with its distinctive open ceiling—made him curse under his breath. All he could picture was Claudel, disheveled and small, lying there.
"I'm going to the office," he announced.
Later, surrounded by strong liquor, he sat with his head in his hands.
Even after consuming enough alcohol to intoxicate most men, he remained sober. His clarity of mind only fueled the urge to strangle the Duke of Vermont—that clever old fox. It seemed entirely possible, even realistic.
He felt like he was losing his mind.
The anger was so consuming he thought he might go mad. Yet he didn't fully understand *why* he was angry.
Claudel was right: *This isn't the marriage I wanted.*
He'd never wanted this union.
But neither had he denied it entirely or completely ignored it. For years, he'd worried about how nobles married for convenience struggled to even speak to one another. He'd even lost face asking the butler about such matters.
After Claudel saved him from the crocodile, he'd tried treating her differently—with more consideration.
*Because I'm Vermont. It would be better if I disappeared early.*
Those words, spoken in her emotionless voice, laid bare his shame.
The life of a noblewoman ignored by her husband was brief. Either she withered away under constant cruelty and mockery, or she took her own life to escape it. If she survived that, she was sent far away to a monastery.
He'd known this. But he hadn't disciplined the Rowan Castle residents for their behavior. Though they bore no Temnes blood, everyone in his domain cursed Vermont. It was natural they wouldn't accept her. He'd decided it wasn't his place to interfere—it didn't violate any rules.
*But that didn't mean you had to die.*
He muttered it aloud and felt a wave of shame.
He hadn't known that allowing them to bully her would ultimately cost her her life. The fact that he'd tried to treat her decently afterward—tried to act like a proper husband in his own way—excused nothing.
Claudel's emotionless voice had criticized him silently: *What's the difference? Whether I die this way or that way, I'm still dying.*
Only then did he understand why she'd saved him.
While he'd been idly wondering how difficult it was to communicate with his wife, she'd been standing directly in danger's path.
Kaian, accustomed to being revered and looked up to, felt something sharp when he realized she would have saved anyone from the territory—not because he was special, but because she simply would have. He'd hated that realization with surprising intensity.
But then he understood: the woman had probably believed she would die at the same moment regardless. Death was coming for her. The timing was irrelevant.
That realization had made him furious. Then sad. Then he'd pounded the wall, fearing he would shatter completely.
Because whenever Claudel made even a small sound, whenever she coughed—Death himself seemed to reach up with the tip of his scythe and threaten to scratch her. She was so fragile, so thin, he was terrified he would hurt her simply by existing near her.
*This is driving me insane. I'd rather commit treason and fight for territory.*
He was planning to personally kill every Vermont with his sword.
Not merely as an act of war, but as an ending—a symbolic conclusion to a centuries-long blood feud between enemies.
If he had his way...
But now that he'd let them oppress her, now that he'd tolerated the negligence that was slowly killing her, everything was chaos. His emotions churned without resolution.
---
## The Castle Rumor Mill
Rumors about Claudel spread like wildfire.
"She coughed up a fist-sized lump of blood. I saw it with my own eyes."
"Terrible... simply terrible."
When Kaian had returned to find her collapsed and bleeding, he'd called in multiple physicians from within and beyond the castle. Their findings and observations quickly became common knowledge.
"Could it be contagious?"
"Herzol affects only Valmonde residents. It's specific to those who live in the frozen lands near Valmonde Castle."
"I heard she's cursed by the ice witch."
Most talk centered on curiosity about the mysterious Herzol disease.
"Well, I'm glad it's Vermont who's dying," someone said.
The others agreed readily.
Some castle residents who'd noticed Kaian's changed attitude since the crocodile incident began treating Claudel and Hannah with more care. But functionally, nothing changed. The general contempt remained.
"The lame lady won't be hosting balls anytime soon. Once a new mistress arrives, this place might finally feel inhabited."
Her bedroom became like an isolated island.
Few people normally frequented this floor. They'd bullied her initially, but when she failed to respond—showed no anger, no tears, no reaction—they'd simply grown bored and moved on. However, when rumors spread that she carried a terrible disease—one that supposedly killed everyone in an infected village—they refused to come anywhere near.
A disease unique to the South? Terrifying.
Hannah discovered the cruelest evidence of their disdain: they left Claudel's meals on a tray at the top of the staircase, refusing to enter her room.
"I didn't even notice," Hannah wept. "If something happened to you, Young Lady... The Duke even gave me money to bring you back to Valmonde. I wondered if he actually had a conscience."
Hannah wiped her tears with her sleeve, her face flushed with anger. "I'm going to kill the Duke."
"Hannah," I said softly.
"No. I'll kill Lady Irena instead. The Duke will lose what he loves most."
The moment she said "what he loves most," fresh tears streamed down her face.
"That child you saved... the one who was starving..." I said gently.
"Just stop talking!" Hannah's voice broke. "Every time you speak, I get angry! How could you do this to yourself?"
I closed my mouth and reached out weakly to pat her back.
Then Kaian's cold voice cut through the moment.
"Leave."
Hannah looked up at him with tear-filled eyes. Her displeasure was clear, but she quietly withdrew from the room.
Once Hannah had gone, Kaian simply stared at me in silence.
"I have a favor," I said finally.
"A favor?"
"You told me you'd give me anything I want."
Those were your words the day I collapsed.
A sneer twisted his lips. "You think now is the time to ask for something?"
I took a breath, steadying myself.
"Even if I die, please don't stop sending food to Valmonde's estate."
---