Chapter 4.
Don’t Obsess Over Me… Wait, What?
“……”
Silence.
At Diabella’s bombshell of an answer, everyone froze as if their tongues were tied.
Even Belop, who had been dragging Angeleca away, stopped in place. Angeleca herself turned back, eyes wide. In them… was the faintest hint of a smile.
“…Are you serious?”
At last, Raymond spoke in a trembling voice.
Oh, here it comes. Just like I thought.
According to Hajin’s webnovel-obsessed friend, possession stories always went this way: when you possessed a villainess or an ignored character, suddenly everyone clung to you, begging not to divorce, falling hopelessly for your charms wherever you went.
What, so you’ve fallen for me now? Regretting the divorce already, huh? Please. Dream on. I’m taking my 4 billion and leaving.
Diabella shrugged, lifting one corner of her lips in a smirk. Ugh, what a hassle.
With a disbelieving look, Raymond slowly approached her and carefully took her right hand.
“Oh, really, why are you doing this? Even if you beg me not to divorce, it won’t work…”
She was about to pull away haughtily—then stopped when Raymond pressed something into her hand.
What, what is this?
“Before you change your mind, let’s hurry and sign the divorce papers.”
What? What? What? What?!
Unbelievable. Shouldn’t he at least pretend to try to stop her?
It wasn’t that she didn’t want the divorce, but—this was too much. He was acting like he’d been waiting for this moment.
Diabella bit her lip, snatched the divorce papers from his hand, and marched right up to him. Standing on tiptoe to meet his much taller height, she lifted her chin.
“Wh-what are you doing?”
“You must have been dying for this moment.”
Her ruby eyes glared up at him sharply, making Raymond flinch.
Unable to admit it outright, he turned his head and cleared his throat as if to cover it.
“…Even if you sign, you don’t have to leave the Marquis’ house immediately. Your body hasn’t fully recovered. Stay until you’ve regained your strength.”
Ohhh, thank you so much, what a blessing. Truly divine grace.
Diabella let out a dry laugh.
Isn’t that obvious?
After almost dying from poison, he was going to kick her out immediately?
Though, to be fair, she did feel perfectly fine—like she’d had the best sleep of her life. Still, she wasn’t about to risk being thrown out before she figured things out.
Just wait. As soon as I’ve checked my health and sorted out this reality, I’ll grab the money and leave for real.
She ground her teeth, crumpling the divorce papers in her clenched fist.
“Wife, crumpling the papers doesn’t make them invalid.”
“Oh, for crying out loud.”
Diabella raked a hand through her hair, annoyed.
“Why are you talking like such a pompous jerk? So irritating. Did I say I wouldn’t sign? I said I would! What’s the big deal if it’s a little crumpled? Fine, fine—I’ll sign just to spite you. Now hand over my settlement money.”
“…Wife? Your words are rather short. And harsh—”
“Your character seems short. Respectful speech is for people worthy of respect. And since we’re divorcing anyway, why bother?”
But then—her eyes caught a glint. Without a sound, Belop had drawn his blade from its sheath.
Gasp… maybe I went too far.
In the Marquis’ house, the Marquis’ word was law. And Belop was his hound—ready to cut down anyone for him.
At this rate, she’d be dead before she could divorce.
Her heart pounded. Quickly, she clutched her head with both hands and collapsed.
“Ugh… I must be overexerting myself… I don’t even know what I’m saying anymore. What did I just say? It must be that poison—surely it damaged my brain!”
“…Wife.”
Raymond’s voice trembled as he fought his anger.
Through barely cracked eyes, she saw him signaling Belop to stand down.
Phew. Saved.
Diabella shut her eyes again and feigned unconsciousness.
“She’s clearly not in her right mind. Let her rest, and when she finishes the divorce papers, deliver them to the butler. Then I’ll see to her settlement.”
Finishing his words, Raymond stormed out with heavy steps.
***
What in the world…
Raymond was dumbfounded. There was no doubt—his wife was not in her right mind.
Just how strong was that poison, to make her like this?
He shook his head.
[Why are you talking like such a pompous jerk? Did I say I wouldn’t sign? I said I would! What’s the big deal if it’s a little crumpled? Fine, fine—I’ll sign just to spite you. Now hand over my settlement.]
The more he recalled her words, the more absurd they seemed.
Pompous jerk?
He didn’t know what exactly “pompous jerk” meant, but it clearly referred to some disgraceful behavior.
And “dirty and petty”… about him?
Him? Raymond de Crimton, famed for his fairness and kindness?
As he calmed down and thought it over, he admitted—yes, perhaps he had pushed her too hard. Given her history of lies and schemes, he hadn’t believed her promise to sign, so he pressed her.
But maybe it was too harsh, after she nearly died.
He hadn’t even asked if she was okay.
When he first heard she’d woken up, he had rushed to her side without thinking. He’d even hugged her tightly—and maybe, without realizing, shed a tear.
At first, hearing of her cruelty to the people, he’d been furious, determined to divorce. But after seeing her pale, lifeless body for a month, his heart had softened.
Some days he hated her recklessness. Other days, he thought—if she would only wake up, he could forgive anything.
It had been a confusing, tormenting month.
Naturally, when she finally opened her eyes, he had wanted to ask if she was alright. But the joy was brief—when the butler handed him the divorce papers, his heart chilled again.
It felt as though she had toyed with him, even with his deepest worries. Risking her very life for such a reckless stunt disgusted him.
He had forgotten, during her silence, just how twisted her nature was.
He hated to admit it—but he remembered clearly now: he had married a most peculiar woman.
The daughter of a lowly viscount, she had nevertheless conquered high society with her beauty alone. Like dark red wine, she was bewitching, alluring, the black rose of the capital. Men had fallen one after another.
When she showed her favor to him alone, he had been flattered. The Black Rose of society—Diabella. What man could refuse her charm?
She was too beautiful. Too dazzling. On their wedding day, everyone envied him. He had won the empire’s most beautiful woman.
He had thought himself the luckiest man alive.
But not long after marriage, he realized the truth: he was the unluckiest.
Diabella had rejected his touch. On their wedding night, when he approached, she had convulsed in terror, screaming for him not to come near.
As a gentleman, he could only respect her will. He had hoped she would open her heart in time. She became the most beautiful flower—yet one he could never touch.
And like roses, her beauty came with sharp thorns.
First: Diabella was extravagant.
She was from a viscount family so poor they could barely prepare half the usual dowry.
At first, he thought her greed came from deprivation, and found it endearing.
But she was never satisfied. Had she only spent the Marquis’ wealth, he might have overlooked it. But she even extorted money from the powerless commoners.
Second: Diabella was thoughtless and shallow.
She never considered others’ feelings, acting only on her whims. She beat and dismissed maids and servants without a second thought.
Yet anyone who flattered her, she trusted blindly, truth or not.
And yet…
Raymond tapped his desk in thought.
Today’s words to Lady Miles were unexpected. Even I had never thought about the origin of the poison—but she pointed it out sharply.
He recalled Angeleca’s tearful denial. Those tears felt false.
[Your character seems short…]
His wife had always been unpredictable. But today, more than ever.
At first, he had sneered, thinking it was another act. But if you judged by performance—
Lady Miles’ behavior seemed more of an act. And my wife… oddly sincere. Almost too honest.
Which made it stranger.
That bizarre behavior and speech—wasn’t an act?
Me, Raymond de Crimton, a man with “short character” and a “pompous jerk”?
He refused to believe it.
