IHYWRM l CH 04

Chapter 4

After a night like a storm, the mansion became busy. Noctum, who had treated Charlotte like delicate cotton candy that might melt away, began putting restrictions on her.

As if he remembered every word he spoke while drunk, Noctum removed anything that might let Charlotte bring up “divorce” again.

Strangely, that also included meeting “Adrian Verche.” Because of that, Charlotte couldn’t see Adrian for several months.

From her point of view, it was like removing a future villain, so she was pleased. But Noctum, who didn’t know that, kept watching her reactions.

Charlotte didn’t care. Whatever Noctum did, she ignored it.

She knew very well that even if he tied her down now, he would throw her away without mercy once the heroine appeared.

Time flashed by.

The seasons changed three times, and spring finally came.

Flowers bloomed beautifully. Society was excited for the year’s one and only debutante ball.

“Are you cold? Shall I bring an evening cape with warming magic?”

Anna, who was dressing Charlotte for the imperial ball, saw her shivering and asked with worry.

Charlotte looked at the wedding ring on her ring finger and shook her head. She wasn’t shivering from the cold.

“I’m fine. Where is His Grace?”

“He’s waiting outside.”

“Let’s go.”

At Charlotte’s words, Anna tidied her hair one last time and opened the door.

Even though they saw each other every other day now thanks to his persistence, Noctum still blushed every time he looked at Charlotte.

“You’re beautiful again today, my lady.”

“…All right.”

Watching a man with a face more beautiful than any woman in the Empire praise her face left her with mixed feelings.

When she nodded reluctantly, Noctum brightened and guided her forward. With so many eyes watching, she couldn’t reject him, so she quietly set her hand on his.

Her cool palm touched his hand, hot as molten lava. It wasn’t rare, but not common either; even so, Noctum’s shoulders tensed.

His fingers squeezed hers tightly. The heat of his grip made her frown slightly—then his voice came from above.

“Your hand is cold. Are you ill? The ball isn’t important. We should see a physician at once…!”

Oh please. Charlotte relaxed her tight mouth and stepped into the carriage.

“Don’t make a fuss. It’s just the chilly wind.”

She turned to the window to avoid his worried face—only to see his reflection there and have to look at him again.

Noctum, never imagining she was watching, kept sneaking glances at her, checking her complexion.

Even with heating magic on the carriage, Charlotte looked unwell. Her skin was pale, and she shook like someone just pulled from icy water.

What should he do? How could he make her comfortable? He wrung his hands, and Charlotte gave a faint bitter smile.

After today, she wouldn’t see this side of him anymore.

I shouldn’t have come.

Regret crashed over her like a wave. It was a feeling she wasn’t supposed to have. Only now did Charlotte realize she’d been clinging to a tiny hope about him.

What am I doing, now of all times…

But it was too late. Today was the day her husband would meet the real heroine.

“If you want, we can turn back, my lady,” Noctum said quickly, sensing her little sigh.

Charlotte shook her head firmly. “We’re going.”

They couldn’t turn back. They had to go. It was the one fate set for them.

Shadows fell over Charlotte’s face. Now even his reflection disappeared from the window.

Unlike her, staring weakly outside, Noctum was very busy.

He lifted his hand and lowered it again, over and over. Finally he gathered his courage and reached toward her—toward her pale, trembling hand.

This isn’t improper. I just want to use magic to help her relax…

He rehearsed excuses in his head. It wasn’t that he was desperate to touch her more—he only wanted to comfort someone who looked in pain.

His hand drew close. Just as he braced himself to go farther, Charlotte suddenly spoke.

“Noctum, do you believe in fate?”

“…Pardon?”

His wife had spoken to him first—was he the one overheating now? His head spun. He calmed his pounding heart as she continued.

“I do. That must be why I became your wife.”

As she finished, the carriage stopped. Charlotte stood and stepped down on her own, without help.

Tap. Her high heel struck the dry ground.

The sound snapped Noctum back to himself. He reached out by instinct, ready to stop her this time no matter what—but his resolve crumbled in an instant.

She smiled at him—brightly—for the first time.

A smile that looked both relieved and sad. As Noctum stared, dazed, she turned her head and looked elsewhere.

Where are you looking? Look at me—look at me, Charlotte.

But his eyes followed her gaze.

There stood a woman with fluffy, cotton-candy pink hair.

A face that seemed the complete opposite of Charlotte’s. A sigh escaped Noctum, and at the same moment the woman’s eyes met his—as if by fate.

Watching it all, Charlotte finished what she had to say.

“So I will accept every fate thrown at me, Noctum.”

Even my death.

***

The ball went exactly as in the novel she knew.

In the ballroom, Noctum acted as if Charlotte didn’t exist. Of course—he couldn’t take his eyes off the heroine, Muse Kalio.

Unlike calm Charlotte, the nobles around them started talking.

“The grand duke has finally broken the wicked black magic.”

“Hmph, if only it had happened sooner. Tsk, I shouldn’t have married off my youngest last week…”

“Do you see the young lady speaking with His Grace? Isn’t she the one from the Kalio family that just naturalized to the Empire?”

“As expected—refined elegance pours off her. Unlike someone.”

Charlotte kept her face blank as the barbs stuck in her ears one by one.

They covered their mouths with fans and wineglasses, but raised their voices on purpose.

Ignoring the many eyes on her, she left the ballroom.

If she stayed, the rumor would start that she’d poisoned a water glass and tried to force it on a delicate young lady.

Actually, by now there are probably worse stories spreading in my absence.

She smiled lightly.

Being the “villainess” in a novel meant this.

Change the villainess role with a bit of effort? People rally to you like in other stories?

Maybe that happens elsewhere. Not here. Not to “Charlotte Daphsine.”

“Madam? His Grace…”

“He won’t come home tonight. Let’s go.”

“Y-yes…”

She urged the confused coachman and left the ball. In the dim carriage, Charlotte looked back at the brightly lit imperial hall.

Surely not—but she thought she could see Noctum’s and Muse’s silhouettes reflected in the window.

Maybe because her husband had safely turned the first page of his “male lead” story, time flew. Three months passed.

Charlotte’s daily life changed little.

Worse and worse gossip that even her husband couldn’t suppress, cheap bait headlines growing nastier, and Adrian’s secret offers of help.

What differed from the novel was Noctum.

Now that he’d met the heroine, he should have ignored Charlotte. Instead, he still visited—less than before, but regularly.

He did the same things: morning greetings, “accidentally” meeting her in the garden during her walks.

At first she thought he was building up to “divorce,” but no.

In fact, he suddenly started asking strange questions.

“Where do you think is the most comfortable place to live in the Empire, my lady?”

“Do you prefer mountains or the sea?”

“Do ladies like small and cozy, or big and grand?”

“My lady, what do you think about keeping a pet?”

“Still—money is better than flowers for a lady, right?”

When she answered by accident, he smiled brightly for a while and left. She thought he was buying things for Muse—but even that guess was wrong.

If he had been, society would be buzzing. Instead it stayed oddly quiet.

Then, one day—

On July 3rd, Imperial Year 847, Charlotte saw a letter tucked into the gossip sheet and her mouth tightened.

The seal was gold and white—sent from the Imperial Palace.

She slit it open with a letter knife. Inside lay a red sheet, the color of blood. Just that told her her fate was near.

They say for high nobility, they send summons on red paper—out of “respect”—when charging a criminal.

She’d only read about it in books as a child. Feeling it happen to her was strange.

Unfolding the neat paper, she read: the criminal “Charlotte Daphsine Afros” was summoned to court the next day; the court would determine the degree of her crimes.

She read the listed charges one by one:

Learning forbidden black magic in violation of imperial law.

Violating a noble’s duty of integrity and dignity.

Causing injury to imperial citizens with that magic.

And even attempted murder by implied intent.

She swore she had done none of it—but that didn’t matter.

It matched the novel’s flow, crafted to fit “plausibility.”

Either way, I’m going to die.

More hollow still: with death at her door, she felt nothing.

She smoothed the letter, then rose to go to Noctum’s office. She should at least give a final goodbye.

But she didn’t meet him. Ironically, he’d left on a trip.

Alone to the end. Fitting, really, for a villainess—she let out a thin laugh.

She looked at the white camellias outside his office, then opened the door. If she couldn’t see him, she’d at least walk in his garden.

But even that she couldn’t do.

“Madam! How could this be—hic—His Grace, His Grace…”

The ever proper, strict butler was crying.

“What… happened?”

A bad feeling.

It proved right.

“His Grace… There was a carriage accident. He has… passed away…”

“Noctum… Noctum is dead?”

The male lead who should have brought her to the scaffold. Noctum Afros.

Her husband—was dead.