Their eyes met.
A man leaning crookedly against the corridor wall pushed himself upright as Estelle walked past.
She quickened her pace.
“Estelle.”
“…”
“Estelle!”
After calling her name a second time, the man muttered a curse under his breath and hurried after her.
“Are you ignoring me right now?”
His green eyes flashed with malice.
“Yes, Matthias.”
Matthias Bellonsa.
The eldest son of House Bellonsa—and Estelle’s stepbrother.
To say they were worse than strangers would not have been an exaggeration.
"Brother? A nobody like you, who knows where you came from, dares call me that? Don't ever address me that way again."
The image of young Matthias tapping her forehead as he spat out those words remained vivid in her memory.
Thankfully, she had never called him brother again—not even by accident.
He was hardly someone worthy of respect as an older sibling.
A useless man addicted to reckless business ventures. Most of the money I brought into this family probably ended up in his pockets.
Every time Matthias launched a new enterprise, he boasted that this one would finally make him rich.
Instead, he had demonstrated an extraordinary talent for squandering money in a hundred different ways.
“The nerve of you…”
“If you're going to hit me, then do it. But afterward, you'll have to explain to everyone why my cheek is swollen.”
Matthias had always been the type to raise his hand whenever someone talked back.
Estelle answered him calmly.
Caught off guard, he slowly lowered his hand.
“Hah. If it weren't for the banquet…”
He clicked his tongue.
“I'm letting you off easy.”
Weak against the strong, strong against the weak.
No phrase described Matthias more perfectly.
Even now, watching him struggle to salvage his wounded pride was pathetic.
A small laugh escaped Estelle's lips.
Without another glance, she brushed past him coldly.
But Matthias, oblivious to her mockery, followed her all the way to the carriage and extended his hand.
“What are you doing?”
“I'm your partner for tonight.”
When Estelle openly showed her displeasure, Matthias puffed up with self-importance.
“You didn't think Father would let you attend alone, did you?”
Partner was merely a polite word for watchdog.
With my wedding approaching, they're keeping an even closer eye on me.
It was a warning: don't even think about doing anything foolish.
“Do whatever you want.”
Ignoring his outstretched hand, Estelle climbed into the carriage.
Matthias quickly followed and claimed the seat opposite her.
He had dressed up for the banquet, but old habits died hard. Before long, he had already undone the top buttons of his shirt.
“I heard from Father. You're getting remarried.”
“…”
“You're just going to obey him and marry again anyway, so why did you try to kill yourself? Did you think that would let you escape? If so, you were wrong.”
“…”
“Even if you wake up after trying to die again, nothing will change. So don't ever pull that stunt again.”
The longer he spoke, the angrier he became.
Perhaps he still couldn't forgive the thought of losing the goose that laid golden eggs.
To Estelle, his threats were simply disgusting.
“Do you know how easy you have it? Who else earns money as easily as you do? All you have to do is get married once, and a fortune drops into your lap. What do you have to complain about?”
“…”
“It's not like you're even spending a real wedding night with them.”
The stories about Estelle's husbands always ended the same way.
They held the wedding.
They spent their first night together.
The next morning, the groom was found dead.
Cause of death: heart failure.
"Don't you think the bride killed him?"
"Exactly. That old man was already on his third marriage. He only had money—nothing else worth looking at. Anyone would be horrified."
Naturally, people suspected Estelle.
Yet there were no wounds on the bodies.
No traces of poison.
The investigators questioned her again and again, but they never found any evidence that she had murdered her husbands.
"Lady Estelle, are you certain you did nothing?"
"I'm the one who reported his death first. If I'd killed him, I would've tried to hide it."
"You could have destroyed the evidence beforehand."
"Officer, I woke up to find a corpse lying beside me. Even now, I can still see it every time I close my eyes. Can you even imagine what that felt like?"
Her hands had trembled as she spoke.
What happened on those nights was known only to the bride and groom.
And with Estelle's testimony never wavering, suspicions of murder gradually faded.
Her delicate appearance worked in her favor as well.
No one could believe such a fragile-looking woman was capable of killing someone.
"Well, he died on the wedding day. In the end, that means the bride killed him."
The temptress who devoured men.
That was the nickname society gave her.
Estelle insisted until the very end that her husbands had died suddenly.
But the truth was—
“Someone died. How am I supposed to stay sane after that?”
“You didn't kill them with your own hands, so stop blaming yourself.”
Estelle had killed her husbands.
Three of them.
And soon, there would be a fourth victim.
“They were old men who would've died soon anyway. Creeps who preyed on young women. Think of it as them donating their wealth and atoning for their sins.”
For once, the usual frivolity had vanished from Matthias's face.
His eyes gleamed darkly.
“What does it matter if you kill one old man—or a hundred?”
“Matthias.”
Estelle looked at him coldly.
“Whether it's one person or a hundred, it doesn't change the fact that I'm a murderer.”
Even if it had been a killing she never wanted to commit.
Estelle had always been left with only two choices.
Spend a night with an old man and become his wife.
Or kill him and stop the marriage.
But Estelle had never even stepped on an insect.
So how had she managed to kill her husbands without leaving behind a single trace?
“The way I see it, you're no different from those old men.”
Dark energy writhed along her arm like a black serpent.
Matthias's face drained of color.
Merely brushing against that sinister aura meant instant death.
But Estelle was different.
She could control it.
“So, would you like to die too?”
At that same moment, a banquet was in full swing at the Imperial Palace.
It had been held to honor Lenox for subjugating the monsters that had suddenly appeared in the western territories.
Ironically, the guest of honor himself was nowhere to be seen.
“The child?”
“He arrived safely at the castle. I told everyone he's to be formally adopted, so they'll treat him accordingly.”
Lenox stood in the imperial garden, speaking privately with Pippin.
“So His Majesty still refused the adoption?”
“Yes.”
“You did try to persuade him, didn't you?”
Distrust practically dripped from Pippin's voice.
Lenox felt unfairly accused.
"The child is immune to demonic energy."
"Hmm. But you're unmarried, are you not? You understand that I cannot make exceptions."
Faced with the emperor's firm refusal, Lenox had resorted to desperate measures.
"He is my son."
He had even claimed a complete stranger was his child.
"You're adopting your own flesh and blood? Then simply marry the boy's mother."
"..."
"I'm not as narrow-minded as I appear. Even if she's a commoner, I'll gladly give you my blessing. Find your bride as soon as possible."
"The child's mother died long ago."
He had even invented a dead mother for a child who had none.
Yet none of it changed the emperor's mind.
"In that case, why not heal your loss with new love? As it happens, I know several excellent marriage prospects."
“…I ended up looking through piles of portraits of noble ladies.”
If someone had told him the emperor was an imperial matchmaker rather than the ruler of the empire, he would have believed it.
“This is all because of Her Highness the Princess, isn't it?”
The emperor's beloved daughter falling head over heels for Lenox's looks was hardly a secret.
Nor was the emperor's desperate determination to pair Lenox with another woman.
“What parent would willingly marry their daughter into Winterlen Territory? I understand His Majesty's concerns.”
Winterlen was a land steeped in demonic energy, a place closer to death than life.
Anyone forced to live there would eventually lose their mind.
And Lenox was hardly husband material.
“I don't want to marry the princess either.”
“Yes, yes. Of course not.”
Pippin replied absentmindedly, exhaustion etched across his face.
“To be honest, I can't imagine you building a happy family with anyone.”
“…”
“Oh, right. As you instructed, I've quietly spread the rumor that you're looking for a wife—for one year only.”
“…”
“Sooner or later, some poor young woman with no money and no luck will probably show up.”
Yawning so wide his jaw nearly cracked, Pippin pulled a flask of coffee from his coat.
After taking a sip, he offered it to Lenox out of habit.
“Want some?”
“Have you lost your mind?”
“Ah. Right.”
Lack of sleep must have dulled his senses.
There was no way Lenox would drink from something another person had touched.
“S-Sorry. I forgot.”
Lenox's pathological obsession with cleanliness was legendary.
There were rumors that people had lost their heads simply for brushing against the hem of his clothes.
Could a man who refused to touch anything used by others really welcome a wife into his home and build a loving family?
Then again, a man who treats wives and children like things to be acquired isn't exactly suited for domestic bliss.
Unless a woman appeared who was immune to demonic energy and could tolerate his impossible personality—
But what kind of woman would willingly choose the duke?
If she managed to survive a year in Winterlen, she'd be fortunate.
“Since you can't submit the adoption papers immediately anyway, I'll take my leave.”
Dark circles hung heavily beneath Pippin's eyes as he walked away.
And while Lenox waited for a candidate willing to become his wife for a single year—
“Oh my goodness! That's Estelle Bellonsa!”
The banquet hall, lacking its guest of honor, suddenly erupted into excited whispers.
