Isaac gave a small snort, thinking his own words were nonsense even as he spoke them.
He had heard plenty of rumors about Clea Rino.
The most well-known among them was that she was an unbearably tenacious woman—someone who wouldn’t die even if she died.
‘Did she stash money away somewhere else?’
She must have something she’s counting on; otherwise, there’s no way she’d hand over the entire fortune of the Count’s household.
There’s no way a woman who indulged in luxury and pleasure would give it all up so easily.
He expected Clea to snap back with some biting remark, but unexpectedly, she said nothing at all.
Instead, it was Isaac who felt awkward, fiddling with his glass as he glanced at her.
“I’ll keep my promise. I’ll leave all the notarization and verification to you, Isaac. I’ll pack up and move into the Grand Duke’s residence as soon as possible—sometime this week.”
“Alright, understood.”
Isaac nodded at her words.
Leaving the notary to Isaac meant that once the contract was drawn up, Clea could not undo any of the clauses.
“Thanks for going along with this, Isaac.”
“…Don’t mention it. It works out better for me anyway.”
“Well then, I’m glad.”
Clea smiled brightly.
It was a soft, natural smile that gave no sense of ulterior motives.
Isaac downed the rest of his drink while looking at her smile.
For some reason, he felt suffocated.
“After six months, we’ll part ways cleanly.”
“You said you liked me, didn’t you?”
Isaac tilted his head slightly as he asked.
Clea, who seemed ready to leave, opened her eyes wide and nodded.
“Yes, I did.”
“If, during this contract, I come to genuinely care for you… will we continue this marriage? It would be something we both want, after all.”
Of course, both Isaac and Clea knew that such a situation was unlikely. Especially Isaac—he was nearly certain.
Still, for some reason, he suddenly wanted to ask.
Clea remained silent for a long moment, then shook her head.
“No, a contract is a contract. It should end there.”
“…Why?”
Isaac asked, but Clea didn’t answer.
She stood up, struggling to keep her fading vision steady.
She didn’t want to collapse, summon a doctor, and reveal her condition.
“It’s gotten late. I’ll head back for tonight. Would it be alright if I visited again early tomorrow?”
“If that’s the case, wouldn’t it be better to just stay the night?”
“Is that a seduction attempt?”
“It’s not like that…”
Isaac’s face twisted at Clea’s suggestive smile.
Clea chuckled softly at his reaction and glanced at the dangerously blinking stamina gauge before moving.
“I was joking. I’ll be going now.”
“…Alright.”
“No need to see me out.”
Clea smiled brightly and closed the door behind her.
Isaac had been about to follow her but abruptly stopped in his tracks.
The door had closed in front of him.
“…I really don’t get her.”
He muttered, sighing.
【HP 273 / 1210】
Even if her stamina reached 0, she wouldn’t die—but once it hit 0, she would collapse.
The problem was that when she fainted like that, there was no way to know when she’d wake up.
‘Last time, I didn’t wake up for two whole weeks.’
Clea quickly walked out and slumped into the carriage.
As soon as she was aboard, the coachman, wearing a straw hat pulled low over his eyes, started driving.
Cough, cough.
Blood she had been holding back welled up and soaked the handkerchief she held to her lips.
She truly wasn’t sure if this body could last another six months.
The constant waves of helplessness that overtook her body and mind made her feel utterly miserable.
She closed her eyes.
When she did, her conversation with the Demon King replayed behind her eyelids.
“As an apology for dragging you in without permission, I’ll give you medicine. Two bottles. They’ll make your body normal for exactly 24 hours in human terms. Use them sparingly.”
“What’s this red liquid?”
“Drink it, and you’ll be transported wherever you want to go. Wherever that is.”
Two bottles with blue liquid. One with red.
That’s what she received when she entered this body—her only parting gifts.
The red one probably meant: “Pick your own place to die.”
‘Ugh, I’m so tired.’
Her eyelids grew heavier.
Pan would probably nag again. But her stamina just kept draining.
“Alcohol… never drinking again…”
She muttered before her lips went still.
Her head dropped, and soon, she was completely still, asleep as if dead.
Darkness fell over her eyelids.
As her body sank slowly into the void, unwanted memories surfaced.
She felt herself fully sink into the darkness, and slowly opened her eyes.
“Why do I keep seeing what happened before I died?”
Her voice echoed into the void, spreading into the darkness before fading completely.
She had gotten used to seeing her own gruesome death—it no longer scared her.
That day, it was just a series of unlucky coincidences.
She had been drinking with a friend and was heading home alone late at night.
At the same time, some deranged man, frustrated with life and society—and upset over losing a game—was looking for someone to vent on.
She was just a young woman trying to survive—barely scraping by with a small salary, paying rent and saving a bit when she could.
There was no way she could afford a secure home.
Her place was a one-room apartment, off the main street, tucked behind a small alley.
As she turned into that alley, she met eyes with a man in a baseball cap pulled low.
Her instincts screamed danger, but he was faster. He grabbed her hair and stabbed her in the back.
All she remembered after that was pain—searing, horrible heat.
Oddly, the pain was so intense that it dulled the horror.
Watching the scene play out like a movie in her head, Clea sighed.
“Are you showing me this again because I didn’t manage my stamina?”
No answer came, no matter how much she complained.
‘Well, at least I’ve made it past the first major hurdle…’
Sitting down, Clea hugged her knees and thought.
The toughest part—convincing Grand Duke Detroit—was done.
She’d poured all of Count Rino’s fortune into this, but it wasn’t like she’d need it once she died. Better to leave it with someone she might care for, even if just a little.
“What is a happy marriage supposed to be?”
She had told Isaac to try and live like they were truly married.
But, truthfully, Clea didn’t really know what a happy marriage was.
Even before coming to this world, she had never been married.
‘I’ve seen it a lot in dramas and comics…’
In those, couples usually overcame hardships together and ended up married.
They’d settle down, have children, and live happily ever after.
As she hugged her knees and thought, her eyelids grew heavy again.
She was used to the pattern by now, and it no longer frightened her.
She surrendered to the darkness.
Once more, it descended over her eyes.
“…Mistress.”
“Ugh…”
“Mistress.”
A breath whispered near her ear, and Clea slowly opened her eyes.
Her mind felt awake, but her body was heavy, as if waterlogged.
She groaned and struggled to sit up in bed, as if held down by an invisible weight.
Her mouth was dry, her throat scratchy, and her vision was blurry—like there was a film over her eyes.
She rubbed her neck, blinked a few times, and finally her vision cleared.
“Water…”
“Here, Mistress.”
A cup of water was offered to her.
She instinctively reached for it but then narrowed her eyes at the white-haired boy in front of her.
“Pan, you’re still here? I told you—you’re free to go wherever you want.”
“How could I leave you behind, Mistress?”
“You’re not a slave anymore.”
“But I never said I’d stop being one.”
Being a slave isn’t something you can just quit if you want to, is it?
Holding back the words rising in her throat, Clea sighed.
The white-haired boy knelt at her side, looking up at her with clear red eyes.
‘There’s something suspicious about him too.’
For someone claiming to be a slave, he didn’t act the part—he never looked intimidated.
Even in ragged clothes, he radiated elegance, with smooth, fair skin.
Supposedly, she had bought him at the market a month before she died. But how?
Slavery didn’t sit right with someone from modern times like her.
So Clea had freed all of Count Rino’s slaves.
She tore up their ownership papers and gave them money to start their lives.
That was one of the first things she did when she woke up in this world.
Most of them left immediately or stayed only long enough to find jobs.
Only one stayed—this boy, who called himself Pan, insisting on remaining her slave.
But Clea couldn’t understand why.
He said he wanted to stay here—but if he was truly free, shouldn’t he be a little happier, like the others?
‘He’s a strange one.’
Clea stretched her sore body, thinking.
“I have a maid, so I don’t need your help. Go out and find yourself a job.”
She spoke as she raised the water to her lips.
Pan’s red eyes gleamed oddly, and he tilted his head as if confused.
“Why?”
