Chapter 7
Candice, the head maid, opened the door and spoke.
“My lady, are you ready to return to the Dumfelt estate… Oh my, did you fix that?”
As soon as she heard Candice’s voice, Scarlett proudly held up her wristwatch with both hands.
Candice exclaimed in surprise.
“Polly! The watch is working!”
“R-really?”
At her loud voice, Polly shouted back from the kitchen and came running up the stairs.
While Candice sat Scarlett down and braided her blonde hair, pinning it into a crown-like shape, Polly checked the watch over and over again, her eyes brimming with tears as she hopped with joy.
“Thank you! This watch… my late grandmother bought it because she was so happy I was born, planning to give it to me when I grew up. That’s why I wanted so badly to fix it!”
“How on earth did you repair it, my lady?”
As the maids gathered around Polly, marveling and asking questions, Scarlett smiled.
“It took me half a month.”
“Even so! No one else could fix it anywhere! It’s amazing.”
Everyone was so excited that Scarlett found it difficult to tell them she was going to hand her husband the divorce papers today. Yet, saying nothing at all felt like deceiving them.
A little later, the servants carried her luggage to the trunk, and finally Candice checked Scarlett’s clothes.
“You’ll be seeing him for the first time in a hundred days.”
Scarlett smiled faintly at Candice’s careful remark.
“That’s right.”
“But this really hasn’t healed, how troubling.”
Candice frowned as she examined the wound on Scarlett’s left wrist.
Ever since she had woken up in the hotel with no memory, there had always been a raw wound on the wrist where she wore her watch.
Scarlett strapped the watch back on to cover it and said,
“It’s fine if I just hide it.”
“Still, on such fair skin… Where could you have gotten this wound?”
“Good question. If only I could remember.”
Scarlett thought that in that missing week of her memory she must have done something shameful. Every time she looked at the wound, her heart would lurch with fear, and she could only bear it by keeping it covered.
Soon, the two of them left the quaint villa filled with rare treasures. Outside, the sun had already set, and rain poured down.
Scarlett climbed into the carriage.
She closed her eyes for a moment, and Viktor’s image came to mind—his perfect naval coat fitted to his long limbs, his always stylishly groomed jet-black hair, his straight nose, and those deep navy eyes that always reminded her of the sea.
Looking back, even searching for four-leaf clovers for him had been for her own happiness. It was simply her way of enjoying May. Truthfully, everything she had done for Viktor had made her happy. If she hadn’t been, she would never have kept giving without return.
Thinking that way, she realized those two years had been joyful.
The royal family had been reluctant for any news to spread claiming Marina Dumfelt had gone mad, but they could not suppress it completely.
It was reported in the capital of Salantie that the princess, driven out by royal neglect, had lost her mind, and her son lived under the threat of his mother’s strangling hands just to fulfill her dream.
The fact that even his closest comrades in the navy had never known of this made the royal family’s position even more difficult.
A long political standoff followed. Viktor carried himself as he always had—never showing agitation. The House of Iren seemed to abhor the idea of formally incorporating Viktor into the royal family, so they endlessly delayed giving a clear answer.
But Viktor did not grow impatient. If perseverance was in question, no one was more distant from that flaw than Viktor Dumfelt.
For days the rain poured. One evening, Viktor was drinking by the window of a third-floor annex, filling and emptying his glass over and over, intent on getting drunk. Then he heard the sound of a carriage racing through the muddy road.
He looked out and saw, through the rainy darkness, a carriage approaching.
Moments later, Blight reported awkwardly,
“My lord, the lady has arrived.”
“Scarlett?”
“Yes.”
Had Viktor miscounted the days? He checked again, but today was only the ninety-ninth day since Scarlett had left.
Unwilling to show himself drunk, he frowned slightly, buttoned his shirt, put on his vest and jacket, and went downstairs. Scarlett, still in her raincoat, was entering.
She spotted Viktor descending the grand staircase and laughed brightly.
“Viktor, it’s been a while.”
“Isn’t it tomorrow?”
“Oh, right. Tomorrow is the day we agreed to meet.”
Scarlett didn’t take off her coat.
As she stepped into the lobby, rain dripping from her, Viktor’s frown deepened, obvious to anyone watching. Yet, because Scarlett looked brighter than she had three months ago, he assumed monastic life must have suited her.
She smiled radiantly as she came closer, though her steps were slow.
“Have you been well?”
“Yes.”
Before she reached him, Scarlett crouched down, opened her bag, and pulled out a document envelope.
“Here.”
At Viktor’s nod, Blight received it, opened it, and his eyes widened before handing it to Viktor. Even realizing it was divorce papers did not change Viktor’s expression much.
Scarlett spoke.
“Sir Gregory gave his permission.”
“For us to divorce?”
“Yes. After that, remarry a good young lady from a noble house. Then the royal family will view you differently.”
Viktor calmly checked the rest of the documents, walked to the lobby table, and filled out what was required with the gold-trimmed pen.
When he handed it back, Blight fidgeted nervously.
“Perhaps you should give this a little more thought—”
“It’s fine.”
Viktor cut him off and turned away.
Scarlett instinctively followed him a few steps and said,
“Then I’ll head straight to the Crimson household.”
At this, Viktor stopped and looked back at her.
“Now? You’re leaving now?”
“Yes? Yes.”
“It’s late, and raining. Don’t be ridiculous—go tomorrow.”
“There’s still a tram. I’ll walk to the station.”
Scarlett said brightly, then looked up at him.
“I’m sorry for betraying you, Viktor. But I truly did love you—more than my life. Really… how did it end up like this…?”
Her voice faltered, and she turned away.
“Farewell, my love.”
She quickly left, almost running. Only then did Viktor realize she had never intended to stay—she hadn’t taken off her raincoat. He regretted, too late, that he should not have been drinking since he would need to fetch her tomorrow.
Blight, flustered, followed after him.
“My lord…”
But Viktor ignored him and returned to the room where he had been drinking. With the sound of the door closing, the mansion sank into silence.
Out in the rain, Scarlett could not run far, weakened by the remnants of her fever. At that moment, Andrei, who had been waiting by the door with her luggage slung over his shoulder, picked up her bag as well and scolded lightly.
“Boss, try walking faster, will you?”
“Boss already? We haven’t even opened the shop yet.”
“You hired me, so you’re the boss.”
Scarlett struggled to hold her umbrella as she walked.
On the way to the tram stop, she asked, still uncertain,
“I can’t even pay you much—are you really fine with this?”
“Yes. It’s been my dream—to start from a small shop and grow it into a great business.”
“…Great?”
“As I said, you have exceptional talent. You even repaired a watch the other Crimson watchmakers couldn’t.”
“It took me half a month.”
“Still. That alone proves it—the true heir to the Crimson family’s craftsmanship is Miss Scarlett Crimson.”
Talking like this, they braved the rain and boarded the tram.
As they headed to 7th Street, where she would open her clock shop, Andrei read his book with his usual dignified expression, while Scarlett gazed at the blurred street through the rain-spattered glass.
“Maybe because we’ve been apart three months, I don’t feel that sad.”
“Indeed.”
“I guess I’m taking the divorce rather calmly, don’t you think?”
“The fact you’re saying that makes you sound overflowing with lingering feelings.”
“You’re cold.”
“My coldness will serve you well in the future.”
Andrei was composed, and his manner amused Scarlett, making her laugh softly. She was glad that even after the divorce, she could still smile like this.
7th Street, where Scarlett rented a place, was the closest bustling district to the Crimson estate. Still weakened from the fever she’d caught at the monastery, she devoted herself only to watchmaking in her second-floor workshop, while Andrei handled most of the actual shop preparations. Scarlett knew watches, but nothing about running a business, so his help was a blessing.
By the time summer had passed and her health fully returned, the watch shop opened. Shortly after, Scarlett bought a bicycle—for the first time since her parents’ death and her cousin Marilyn had taken her old one away.
