"Just come out. I won't leave you alone."
Hannah waited anxiously outside the bedroom door.
At Valmonde Castle, she had always slept beside Claudel. When she lost her parents and younger brother in that terrible fire, she'd felt fortunate that at least Claudel had survived. But Claudel had lost both her mother and father—one by accident, one by his own choice. And now Claudel was left behind entirely.
This situation at Rowan Castle was entirely different.
Hannah's room was on the third floor with the other servants, while Claudel's chamber was no longer her own sanctuary. Hannah had no opportunity to rest beside her mistress, never knowing when the Lord might arrive. The uncertainty alone tormented her, and she was horrified by the treatment Claudel had received since coming to this castle.
*This cannot continue.*
She had spent the entire night awake, her anger churning, until finally she made her way to Kaian's bedroom in the early morning.
*If I allow this unfairness to persist, Claudel will develop an illness worse than the fever she already carries.* Of course, Hannah's worry was not for herself but for Claudel—her childhood friend who remained silent and claimed to be fine, even as Hannah heard disturbing sounds in the night.
Unspoken anger festered inside, poisoning the heart.
*I must speak to the Duke. This is too unfair.*
She had even thrown a tantrum when she saw Claudel refusing to remove the ring from her finger, despite now knowing it wasn't truly a ring at all. If Claudel said the Duke had given it to her, then he had. How could he then humiliate her in front of the entire household by feigning ignorance?
A mistress's dignity was preserved by her husband's respect. In just three days at Rowan Castle, Claudel had nearly lost the status she deserved.
That was why Hannah stood here.
She wanted Claudel to be happy. She would not allow her friend to endure another life of sequential neglect and destruction. If nothing improved after today's conversation, she was even prepared to take Claudel and flee Rowan Castle. Claudel didn't eat much, and she was small. Hannah could support them both—she would sew for hire, take odd jobs, work until her hands swelled if necessary. The wages she'd saved from Valmonde Castle were enough to purchase a small house in a quiet village on the outskirts.
As she waited, Hannah organized her thoughts, preparing the words she would hurl at Kaian.
*Creak...*
The bedroom door opened.
A woman emerged—unlike Claudel in every way. She had a voluptuous figure, long thick black hair, and large blue eyes. She walked from Kaian's bedroom without shame, her hair disheveled and tangled, clearly making no effort to hide what had occurred the previous night. Her clothing hung in disarray.
Hannah's cheeks burned with embarrassment and rage.
"Who are you?" she demanded.
The woman, apparently startled to encounter someone, pulled her shawl over her partially exposed chest and ran her fingers through her hair.
"The Duke is still sleeping."
Hannah had heard rumors that at Valmonde Castle, the women who came and went from Kaian's bedroom changed daily. But for the past two days, he had been with Claudel, and Hannah had let herself forget—distracted by the cruelty of the castle maids.
"That's precisely what I wish to ask you," Hannah said sharply, drawing herself up. "Who are you?"
The woman's eyes widened as if she'd finally understood Hannah's status.
"As far as I know, there is only one person at Rowan Castle permitted to occupy the Lord's bedroom," Hannah continued coldly.
The woman laughed—a bright, mocking sound.
"Ah! So you're the one! The famous fighting cock of the flower withered by the rain."
Hannah had never struck a woman, but in that moment, she desperately wanted to slap the face of anyone who dared speak of Claudel that way.
"You still don't know who I am," the woman said. She extended her left hand.
On her finger gleamed an enormous blue diamond ring.
Hannah recognized it immediately. The portrait of the late Duke and Duchess hung prominently in the main hall—impossible to miss. The Duchess wore a ring with a blue diamond so large it nearly covered her entire finger, set in a simple thick band.
The late Duchess had been strikingly beautiful: flowing blonde hair the color of lemon, pale skin, and bright blue eyes. Though her personality was reportedly vile, her appearance was undeniably stunning. The blue diamond seemed to suit her so perfectly that it looked like a third eye—an extension of her beauty itself.
"Remember me. My name is Antyone," the woman said, noticing Hannah's recognition. "Kaian gave me what the Duchess had."
Hannah understood the implication immediately. Giving such a cherished heirloom was considered a pledge of eternal devotion—a promise never to betray.
"Tell your mistress this," Antyone continued with cruel satisfaction. "Kaian was originally promised to me. Whether he's married or not, I will always have his heart. My place in his bedroom can never be taken."
"Yet you walk in and out of a man's bedroom unmarried, as a supposed virgin?" Hannah's voice dripped with contempt. "How shameless."
"Oh, you're amusing," Antyone laughed. "What does a meaningless pledge matter? Your poor mistress must truly lack any hold on his heart."
With that, Antyone walked past Hannah down the hallway, massaging her neck and shoulders as though she'd endured a strenuous evening. She seemed to glory in her conquest.
Hannah stood frozen, speechless with rage and shock for the first time.
*How could he? On the third day of marriage, after his wife's arrival, he brings another woman to his bed?*
"My poor Lady..." Hannah whispered.
It was all falling apart.
Her thoughts turned immediately to escape—to taking Claudel and fleeing Rowan Castle.
---
## Kaian's Perspective
The hallway outside Claudel's bedroom was silent.
"My Lord."
Kaian, who had spent the entire night standing vigil as dawn light crept into the corridor, turned at the butler's voice.
"Why are you doing this?" the butler asked quietly.
"I... don't know."
"Are you regretting it?"
Regret. The word felt foreign. Regret had no place in Kaian's vocabulary—everything he did was justified.
"No."
"Don't be stubborn, sir. The fastest way to correct a wrong is now, while the decision is still fresh."
The butler, whose eyes were lined with deep wrinkles from decades of service, sighed heavily.
"If you treat your wife this way, how do you expect to raise a proper successor? The discipline of this castle is crumbling."
The butler was right. If Claudel remained so deliberately ignored, any child she bore would be in jeopardy. A child raised amidst contempt and bullying could never become the respected leader his people needed.
"The household will naturally be troubled by a Vermont bride—they've never imagined such a thing," the butler continued. "But you, my Lord, must raise your wife's standing. Then they will accept her."
The butler's unwavering honesty was harsh today.
"Please eat something, sir," the butler offered.
Kaian shook his head. "No. I'm going to the office."
The three-day wedding celebration had left much work undone. Besides, he hadn't yet decided what to say to Claudel or what he should do. He felt something twisting inside him at the thought of facing her in his current state. It was better to step back for now.
"Will you rest first?" the butler asked.
"No. I'll go straight to work."
"I will prepare everything for you."
The butler knew why Kaian had paced outside Claudel's bedroom all night without sleeping, but he could not teach his master such lessons. Some things a man had to learn for himself.
*Perhaps one day,* the butler thought, *he will regret this decision.*
But even the butler could not foresee how deeply that regret would cut.
---
## Claudel's Perspective
I couldn't sleep.
Lying in bed beneath my blanket, I woke shivering.
*He didn't come.*
Last night, Kaian didn't come to my room. He had seemed upset when he told me not to make a fuss before he left. I had assumed he wouldn't return, but since he'd come on the second night despite not being obligated, I'd allowed myself to hope.
*Perhaps... maybe... why do I think like this?*
He is from Temnes. I am from Vermont. From the very beginning, I was someone with whom he could share nothing. Our families were water and oil—enemies that could never mix.
*I want to sleep.*
When suffering like this, sleep would be a mercy. But instead, I lay awake with my body aching where his hands had touched me, growing sadder with each passing hour.
*I thought it would be this way from the start. After the first night, I would never see him again. But why do I feel so empty? So lost?*
*It must be the insomnia,* I told myself. *Lack of sleep makes everything worse.*
I was rubbing my temples, fighting a mild headache, when it happened.
"Cough. Haaaa—"
The long breath scratched roughly against my chest, touching somewhere deep inside. A pain seized me—the sensation of my lungs being squeezed, wrung out.
"Cough. Cough."
The coughing wouldn't stop. It tormented me for what felt like hours.
"Ha..."
I covered my mouth with my palm. Something warm and metallic ran down my wrist, dripping onto my nightclothes and the blanket.
I stared at my hand.
"...Blood."
---