Chapter 10
Ella shivered as she stepped out into the garden through the mansion’s front door, the cold harsher than she expected.
“Ah, it’s freezing.”
It was still midwinter. The biting wind pierced through her thin clothes. Hugging her arms, Ella took slow steps forward.
She had no destination in mind. She simply wanted to soothe her heavy heart somehow.
Before long, something caught her wandering gaze—plants on the verge of death, covered in frost from the cold.
Ella crouched down in front of them, clutching her collar with one hand. Each breath she exhaled appeared before her as white mist.
Gazing absentmindedly at the fading trails of her breath, she gently touched a nearly frozen petal with her now-reddened fingers.
‘So cold…’
Even with the slightest touch, the petal conveyed a chill that seemed to seep into her bones.
These days, as her life had become unusually calm, she often wondered—was she dreaming?
‘So many things happened in such a short time, I could barely keep up.’
In contrast, the past few days had been dreadfully uneventful. It was almost hard to believe she was still alive.
Her fingers flinched from the cold, but Ella found comfort in the chill. She touched the petal again.
Now, she needed this kind of stimulation just to feel alive.
And so, Ella remained crouched for a long time, grounding herself in the cold. She didn’t even notice her face and limbs turning red.
“What are you doing out here?”
“…!”
Startled by the unexpected voice, Ella jumped up and turned around.
Lifting her head slightly, she saw black hair that looked like the night sky woven with stars.
Just from the familiar hair color, she already knew who it was. Slowly, her gaze moved down.
Eventually, she met the man’s deep blue eyes—so dark, they seemed bottomless.
They resembled the night, yet rather than being swallowed by it, they gleamed brilliantly. Ella’s lips parted slightly.
Was anything colder than those eyes?
A strange thought crossed her mind: if she fell into those blue eyes, she might freeze entirely.
Then, his voice—colder than the snow—echoed by her ear.
“I asked what you’re doing out here.”
Ella couldn’t find an answer. Truthfully, she hadn’t been doing anything.
Rolling her eyes as she tried to come up with something, she finally muttered:
“…Nothing.”
Her unclear answer made the man’s brows furrow.
Their conversations had always been like this since the beginning. He’d ask odd questions, and she’d respond with baffling answers.
Diasi let out a quiet sigh.
“So why are you out here alone in the middle of the night? Protesting because your future husband rejected you on the first day?”
“No, it’s not like that. I just needed some air.”
Ella’s emotionless voice made it sound like it wasn’t a big deal—almost as if she was asking why he was overreacting.
Diasi’s face twisted slightly more.
He hadn’t come expecting her to greet him warmly, but still, her reaction was colder than he imagined.
He hadn’t even come for her. There was a mountain of responsibilities waiting for him in the Myers estate.
Still, he had ridden three hours to come to the capital mansion.
There was no deeper meaning. He simply judged that it wouldn’t look good if rumors spread that he had abandoned his bride on the first night.
It was all just pretense—devoid of sincerity.
He had no particular thoughts when he impulsively stepped down from the carriage and entered the mansion.
That is, until he saw Ella crouched alone in the garden.
That sight triggered his irritation.
He was already exhausted and on edge after twisting his schedule to come here late at night.
And now, seeing her sitting outside in the cold, dressed so thinly—it set his nerves on fire.
She wore a sheer slip that barely covered her skin and a cardigan so thin, it couldn’t possibly provide warmth.
Her expression looked like she could shatter with a touch. The pale winter moonlight reflected off her golden hair, making it appear silver.
Her fragile, sorrowful aura made Diasi click his tongue unconsciously. A headache crept in as he thought he understood her motives.
Anyone else might have rushed over to offer her a coat, but Diasi didn’t bat an eye. To him, Ella was simply an irritating woman.
‘Is she trying to play the pitiful wife now?’
Of course—she was a daughter of that snake-like Mayer family.
Trying to craft the image of a sorrowful wife to manipulate rumors to her benefit. That had to be her aim.
‘There’s no way a pampered woman like her could genuinely look so vulnerable.’
Fine. If that’s how you want to play it, I’ll match you.
Diasi looked down at Ella and said firmly:
“Let’s have a drink together.”
It was a line as thorny as a rose—something that you know will hurt, yet you reach for anyway.
