TDSWM Chapter 35

Chapter  35

There was moisture in Gerald’s eyes.

Why?

Thinking I must have seen wrong, I tried to look into his eyes again.

But he turned away and firmly pushed aside my hand that was pressing against his lips to stop the bleeding.

“As soon as we arrive, I’ll proceed with the divorce.”

Startled, I hurriedly grabbed his clothes as he tried to get off me. Gerald’s brow furrowed.

“Let go.”

“…!”

He straightened his upper body, trying to pull away from me, and in my desperation, I tightened my grip on his clothes.

With the jolting movement of the carriage added to the struggle, his buttons popped off one by one. His chest muscles and firm abs filled my vision.

At that very moment, the carriage door opened.

We both turned in surprise toward the open door.

Butler Thomas’s mouth dropped wide open in shock.

And then—

Bang.

The carriage door slammed shut. So hard that the carriage itself shook.

“Ha….”

The strength drained from my hand.

Gerald also slid down from me to the carriage floor.

I turned toward him, clinging desperately.

“At the very least, I’ll be an ally who will never betray you or Theodore.”

“Heh, an ally. I don’t need such a thing.”

He rubbed his face harshly, blood still trickling from his lips, and then kicked the carriage door open to leave.

“Wait…”

I tried to stand and follow him, but as soon as he stepped down, head maid Madeline quickly climbed up.

I attempted to push past her to chase after Gerald, but she restrained me.

“You mustn’t get down like this.”

“Why not?”

“You need to compose yourself first.”

Only then did I look down at my appearance.

From all the scuffling, the hair I had neatly pinned up had come completely undone, falling messily down to my chest like a madwoman’s.

My blouse was crumpled, my skirt hem pulled up—enough to give any onlooker scandalous thoughts.

My face burned hot.

As Madeline calmly fixed my hair, she quietly shared her thoughts.

“If you’re feeling well enough, shall I report that you’re ready to be moved to the main residence?”

At her subtle suggestion, I quickly shook my head. Her gaze then shifted to the large teddy bear lying on the carriage floor.

“And that?”

It was meant to help during my escape… and later to give to Theodore. But I couldn’t bring myself to explain.

“The young master will surely love it. No one here has ever bought him such a thing.”

Madeline smiled, hugging the big bear. I bit my lip in guilt.

When Gerald stepped down, his chest exposed, Thomas handed him a robe.

Gerald roughly covered his disheveled clothes with it and entered the main residence, Thomas following close behind.

“A guest has come to see the Grand Duchess, as ordered I guided him to the annex.”

Gerald stopped in his tracks, turning to Thomas.

“A man?”

“Yes.”

So soon after parting, she’s already letting another into the annex?

“Was it Curtis, of the Brooks Trading Company?”

“How did you know, sir? Ah, had you already discussed this together? No wonder he seemed quite capable.”

Capable? What does he mean by that?

Gerald hesitated, then ordered,

“Bring him to the office.”

He began heading toward his chambers to change clothes. But after a few steps, he called Thomas back.

“No. Just leave him.”

“Pardon?”

“There’s no need to bring him all the way to my office. If his business is done, send him away.”

Thomas looked confused, watching Gerald ascend to his room.

Inside, Gerald saw his reflection in the mirror—his disheveled clothes and face. A hollow laugh escaped him.

Why had he lost control?

That wasn’t like him.

He could have said the word “divorce” plainly, without all this.

She was never his to begin with.

It was liberating, in a way.

The tug-of-war with the Emperor and the Owen family—this could serve as a conclusion.

The difficulties would fall on her shoulders, not his.

Before Theodore grew too attached, it was best to let her go.

But still, her true identity gnawed at him.

A woman immune to his magic.

A spy sent by the Emperor or the Owen family.

Gerald tried again and again to push Sinclair away.

And yet… he kept recalling the way she’d looked at him, disguised in men’s clothes, flustered and wide-eyed.

She tried so hard.

Unable to let go of her love, unwilling to play the spy.

A woman who had been abused, choosing freedom and love over her family’s shackles.

But such beauty only held meaning when it wasn’t tied to his life.

When it was his wife, it became something else entirely.

At first, he felt a strange sense of betrayal. But since it was a political marriage, he tried to understand.

Still, he burned with anger toward the man who received her passionate love.

Was he worthy?

He couldn’t even protect his own woman—she’d had to flee in disguise, only for him to show up at her side again. A pathetic man. A worthless man.

Curses filled Gerald’s thoughts. He grew more and more irritated.

Could he really let her go?

Would that man be able to protect Sinclair?

No. Already he had brought trouble to her doorstep.

How anxious must she have been, sneaking out in disguise?

But then, the thought of Sinclair’s disguised face close to that man’s—sharing heated breaths—merged with the memory of his own breath mingling with hers in the carriage.

Gerald shook his head. He needed an icy cold wash to regain control.

Forget her. It was a political marriage.

And yet…

What about when he announced the divorce?

Theo.

That small, young life came to mind.

Since Sinclair had saved his life, they had written journals together, read storybooks—he adored her more than anyone.

It was better to end things now, before Theodore grew even more attached.

Gerald immersed himself in icy water, eyes shut.

From today, she must be barred from visiting the annex.

Was it the cold water? His teeth clenched tight.

Knock, knock.

Later.

He wanted to say.

But as Duke, he had no such freedom.

Knock, knock, knock.

Reluctantly, Gerald rose from the water.

“What is it?”

Thomas entered.

“Her Grace requests to see you, Your Grace.”

Gerald’s brow furrowed instantly.

“She says she has something to discuss.”

“…!”

Ha… truly a cruel woman.

“And the man…?”

“He is waiting with her.”

Good. Then let’s end this cleanly.

“Understood. I’ll be there shortly. Ah, has Schmidt returned?”

“Not yet, sir.”

“I see. That will be all.”

Thomas bowed and left.

Gerald splashed cold water on his face and slapped his cheeks.

Smoothly, swiftly—he would handle this.

When Sinclair entered the annex, she was startled.

Curtis of the Brooks Trading Company had brought the ion water purifiers far faster than expected.

“How did you manage this?”

Curtis smiled broadly.

“This is nothing. As promised, you’ll share with me that tightening technique, yes?”

Sinclair forced a bitter smile.

Her head throbbed with the looming divorce talk with Gerald. Water purifiers and martial arts? How trivial they felt.

She was on the verge of being cast out.

Yet Gerald was right.

Divorce now would wound Theodore deeply.

She remembered her own parents, who argued constantly when she was young. Whether they loved each other or not, just hearing “divorce” made a child’s heart pound in dread. Always it felt like the child’s fault.

Her plan to remain married until she broke the curse… she realized now how arrogant it had been.

“Madam?”

It was Sophia.

“Ah…”

“Master Aden and Butler Thomas already inspected the device and its workings earlier.”

“I see.”

“It’s incredible.”

“That’s good. Could you fetch me a glass of water?”

“Yes.”

Sophia hurried to the kitchen.

Dragging her tired body, Sinclair joined Curtis at the garden table.

“So, how many did you make?”

She eyed the wooden boxes filled with purifiers.

“One hundred.”

“I see.”

“Not impressed?”

“Impressed.”

She placed her hands lightly over her chest.

“…That sounded soulless.”

Curtis was indignant. For the third saint of the demon realm, Luraris, to be begging praise from a human woman—it was absurd. And she didn’t even thank him.

Why, then, did he crave her approval so much?

One of her men, Aden, had marveled aloud, saying,

“Madam herself designed this? Truly remarkable.”

Hey! She only came up with the idea. I’m the one who built them!

Curtis wanted to shout. But arguing with humans was tiresome, so he just folded his arms and let it pass.

The butler distrusted him, refusing to allow installations. Then healers and even palace officials were summoned to test for toxins.

Some still eyed him warily.

For a moment, he considered killing them all. But he wanted praise from Bonya.

So he explained the principle and operation of the demon-made purifier.

Still, their response was the same: they needed the Duke’s approval.

After suffering such humiliation, he decided to voice his grievances.

“Bonya, do you know how many people I had to deal with in your absence?”

“You should have sent word ahead.”

At his complaint, Bonya (Sinclair) answered indifferently.

“Sent word?”

“Yes. If you’d made an appointment, you would’ve spared yourself trouble. And I would have been waiting.”

She… waited for him?

For a moment, Luraris’s chest swelled with joy.

Yes. This was what he wanted.

“Bonya?”

“Yes?”

“Bonya?”

Tormented by the conflict between wanting to be her slave and the humiliation of serving a human, Curtis kept calling her name.

“What?”

Finally, irritated, Sinclair snapped.

“Speak already!”

And so—

“Shall we… attune our frequencies?”

“Frequencies? Do such things exist here?”

Sinclair, previously slouched in fatigue, straightened in surprise, giving him her full attention. Under her gaze, Curtis’s rationality returned.

“N-no, never mind.”

Madness. He was digging his own grave. To submit to such an arrogant human…

“What is it?”

“Well, to put it simply…”

Despite himself, the words nearly spilled out. He wanted to clamp his mouth shut.

Normally, when a demon bonded, their frequencies aligned automatically. But oddly, with her, it hadn’t. Still, by touching foreheads and reciting an incantation, their brainwaves could be synchronized.

If he did this, every time she called, he would be compelled to appear before her.

A slave’s life. His reputation would be ruined. But if their frequencies aligned, he could see her whenever she summoned.

His mouth went dry, heart racing.

Yes, it was all for knowledge. If he learned even one more martial art from her, he would perfect himself as the third saint.

He buried his yearning for her beneath that excuse.

“To attune frequencies, first you place your foreheads together—”

Without explaining further, Curtis abruptly reached for Sinclair’s hand. At that moment—

Crack!

An enormous ice wall shot up between them.

“Foreheads together?”

A deep, alluring male voice interrupted. Annoyed, Curtis turned toward the sound.

A man approached with strides as crisp as his appearance: porcelain-white skin, obsidian-black hair gleaming, emerald eyes like frozen glaciers, dressed in a pristine white uniform.

“Who are you?”

“How rude. This is Gerald von Zeier, lord of this castle and my husband. Show respect.”

Before Curtis could finish his question, Sinclair—cheeks flushed—cut in.

Curtis was dumbfounded.

When everyone had been calling her “madam,” he thought she was simply the woman managing the estate in her father’s stead.

The annex had shown no signs of a man’s presence. He assumed Bonya was single.

But now, she introduced this man as her husband—and went to stand by his side naturally.

And that man, after glancing briefly at Curtis, placed a hand possessively on her shoulder and warned,

“Do not cross this wall. Speak from there. If you step over, your life will not be safe.”

What the hell?

On the other side of the ice wall, Bonya’s cheeks flushed a delicate pink.

Ugh.

It shouldn’t have shocked him.

But why did it feel like his chest was caving in?

She was just his master. Whether she was married or not was none of his concern.

And yet, he couldn’t control his expression. The man was infuriatingly beautiful. Enough to make him jealous.

This husband dismissed everyone else, leaving only Sinclair and Curtis.

Why then did his heart feel crushed, as though guilty?

If guilty of anything, it was being beaten by this woman—and nearly killed by her.

And this murderous aura, what was it?

Then—

“Did you find yourself longing to see her again and again?”

“…?”

For the first time in his thousand years, the third saint of the demon realm, Luraris, felt pure bewilderment. His mouth hung open.

Does this man know my heart?

“Heh. You’re quite the actor.”

At last Curtis pointed to himself.

“Are you speaking to me?”

“Who else would I be speaking to?”

“What ulterior motive brings you here?”

Ulterior motive?

Should he reveal it?

That he sought martial arts training?

That he was her servant—a loyal demon?

But if he confessed to being a demon, a confrontation with this man would be inevitable.

Wait—could it be? This was the Gerald von Zeier, the renowned one?

Damn it.

Curtis’s shoulders trembled with the realization that he might have walked into a trap.