Chapter 10
When he was young, Nick had been timid — a boy full of thoughts and worries.
He was always careful around his older brother, who openly disliked their stepmother.
Even after his brother left, Nick couldn’t easily change the way he treated her.
He didn’t know how to mend or rebuild a relationship that had already gone wrong.
All he could do was eat the cakes she baked for him — the only way he knew how to accept her kindness.
But now, he was an adult.
He was of age, and he no longer wanted things to remain awkward between them.
He wanted to stop calling her stepmother — and start calling her mother.
“I wanted to call her Mother now…”
At his coming-of-age banquet, he had finally gathered the courage to smile at her and greet her properly.
When she returned his greeting with that bright smile, he felt brave for the first time.
“I was finally ready to open my heart to her…”
That very next morning, as soon as he woke up, Nick had run all over the mansion looking for Cassia.
He had rehearsed his words over and over again:
Thank you for raising me all this time. I want to call you Mother now, not Stepmother.
But he was too late.
When he finally made up his mind and went to her—
…she was already gone.
Nick’s face sank. His hands clutched at his hair as a sound of pain escaped his throat.
He had wanted — truly wanted — to be a good son to her now.
He had wanted — finally — to accept her as his mother.
It wasn’t because he had forgotten Diana.
He simply wanted to build better relationships with the living.
Even realizing that had taken him a long time.
He had wondered if accepting his stepmother as his mother would be betraying his birth mother —
if it would be a sin against Diana, who lay in her grave.
There was a time when he devoured books every day, searching for an answer.
He had hoped the wisdom of philosophers and sages might tell him what was right — might explain how to live with a stepmother’s presence.
After years of that torment, he had finally realized—
That following his own heart was the right answer.
That it was far more worthwhile to reach out once than to hesitate a hundred times.
But by the time he realized it—
She was gone.
It had been completely unexpected.
If he had known things would turn out this way, he would’ve gone to her sooner.
If he had known, he would’ve been braver in front of her.
That sudden, unplanned farewell buried Nick in unbearable grief.
“Don’t try to wrap your cowardice in excuses.
Don’t blame me for our stepmother’s departure, Nick Whydrian.”
Ken’s voice was cold as he straightened the wrinkles out of his shirt.
Nick didn’t reply. His hands still gripped his head, and his body began to tremble faintly.
Ken looked at his brother with an unmoved gaze, adjusted his clothes, and turned toward their father, the Duke.
“The knight order is busy with training right now. Please don’t summon me again over this matter. That’s all I came to say.”
The Duke stayed silent.
“If there’s nothing else, I’ll go. Handle the matter of our stepmother as you see fit.
…It’s not as though my opinion has ever mattered in this house anyway.”
Ken bowed curtly, murmured those words, and started to leave the study.
“Ken Whydrian.”
“…?”
Ken stopped. When he turned back, the Duke was watching him — clearly with more to say.
Their sharp gazes met in the air. The Duke’s voice rang out, clear and heavy.
“Do not treat her with disrespect again.”
Ken didn’t look away. A tense, cutting silence filled the room.
After a long moment, Ken turned and walked out without answering.
Bang.
The door slammed shut.
In the quiet that fell, Nick slowly lifted his head, still shuddering.
“…No matter how I think about it, I can’t just let her go like this.”
He wiped the tears from his face and clenched his fists, determination burning in his eyes.
Then he rose to his feet and faced his father.
“I’ll find her, even if I have to go alone. She couldn’t have gone far yet. There’s still time to fix this.”
Speaking as though swearing an oath, Nick rushed out of the room.
Bang.
The sound of the closing door echoed once more.
The Duke sat there for a long moment, staring silently at the door through which both his sons had gone.
Finally, a long, heavy sigh escaped him.
A knock sounded. The door opened slightly, and the butler appeared, holding a tray with three cups of tea.
“…I’ve prepared the tea, but it seems it won’t be needed after all.”
“Come in.”
It was a night when even a small conversation partner would help.
At the Duke’s words, the butler entered the study.
Since even the Duke did not touch the tea, the warm drink meant for three ended up being consumed by one.
In the deep silence, only the faint clink of the butler’s teacup could be heard.
Even that was quiet — the butler had served the Whydrian family long enough to perfect the art of noiseless etiquette.
After a while, the Duke spoke.
“You’re one of the few who lived with both duchesses.”
“Yes, I suppose I’m the only one who served closely beside both ladies.”
“The former head maid would’ve counted, but she was dismissed long ago.”
“…What kind of person was Cassia?”
The butler’s hand, about to lift the cup to his lips, froze. He turned to face the Duke.
“Do you mean my personal opinion, Your Grace?”
“Yes.”
The Duke nodded slowly.
“Speak honestly. I already know there are plenty of rumors about her in the estate.
I want to hear your view.”
The butler had always known — at least vaguely — that the Duke’s marriage with Cassia was a formal, loveless one.
Perhaps that was why the Duke wanted to hear his thoughts more than anyone else’s.
Setting down the cup, the butler thought for a while before answering.
“Well… she was a good Duchess. So good that I feel unworthy to judge her.”
His eyes drifted to the past as he spoke with quiet reverence.
“I remember once, when Your Grace was away on frequent trips, there were rumors of a plague spreading from a well.
It was a lie — a cruel trick spread by a few who wanted to drive out a newly settled minority group in our territory.
Do you know what the Duchess did when people began to fear that well?”
The Duke said nothing.
“She drank from it herself. That was the very first thing she did.”
A faint smile touched the butler’s lips.
“She was wise. Compassionate, too. But she also had remarkable resolve.”
“…I see.”
The Duke murmured.
The butler nodded, continuing:
“The late Duchess and the current one were very different in nature.
The former was kind and gentle — a model of grace.
But Lady Cassia… she was more practical.
Sometimes she even seemed weighed down by a quiet darkness.”
“…”
“To me, she looked like someone who needed comfort.
So yes, I am very saddened by her departure.”
The Duke looked at the butler — and for the first time, noticed the sorrow clouding the old man’s face.
The butler smiled faintly.
“Your Grace, you sometimes fail to notice the expressions of those around you.”
“…She always told me she was fine.
And I tried my best to make things right between us.”
“Was she really fine, though?”
Finishing his tea, the butler gathered the tray as if to take his leave.
As he bowed and headed toward the door, he added quietly:
“She must have been terribly lonely — just by being in this mansion at all.”
The door closed softly behind him.
The Duke sat there for a long time, alone in the silence.
* * *
Axxion Whydrian.
When he first saw the letter and the divorce papers, what he felt most was confusion.
He couldn’t understand — why she had left the mansion like she was running away, exactly seven years later.
Of course, he had always been a poor husband. That much was true.
Their marriage had never been that of a real couple.
He had always sensed the invisible wall between them.
She had been his late wife’s friend.
That name alone — Diana’s friend — had built a barrier too high, too strong, to break.
That boundary, steeped in forbidden reverence, had awakened a moral restraint in him.
It kept him overly cautious — even when he could have been warmer, more open.
He knew she must have been lonely behind that wall.
He had only wanted… to take care of her.
And he believed he had taken care of her, in his own way.
He knew she had sacrificed much to enter this household.
He reminded himself often: She is someone to be grateful to. Someone I ought to care for.
Yes, he thought he had done his duty — that he had been considerate enough.
Perhaps that was why her sudden departure shocked him so deeply.
His eyes fell on the letter and divorce documents lying on the table.
He had never imagined she would leave the mansion one day with nothing but a letter behind.
It felt like realizing too late that he’d taken the wrong road — only after reaching a dead end.
He had thought things were fine.
That even if he had been a dry, indifferent husband, they’d lived as a quiet, functional family.
That even if they’d wounded each other during Ken’s rebellion, it was simply a hardship to be endured.
He believed they had learned to respect each other’s boundaries, and that their peace was enough.
No, it wasn’t a warm, affectionate family — but neither was it a hostile one.
A plain, peaceful coexistence — that was how he saw it.
And for how their marriage had begun, he thought that was a fairly good outcome.
But clearly, she had not felt the same.
When had it started?
When had they begun to walk in opposite directions?
His eyes lowered.
“If, one day… very far in the future, I were to ask you for a divorce as written in our contract —
…would you grant it?”
Her soft voice drifted back to him — words she had once asked after Ken’s disappearance.
He remembered that day clearly.
After finding Ken, he had spoken to her to apologize for what had happened while he was away.
And that was when she had asked him that question.
“…Was it from that moment?”
From that time on — had she already decided to leave?
What had he answered? That he would, since it was in their contract?
If so, then she must have endured all these years with that decision already made — hiding every trace of her struggle.
She must have held onto a heart already closed, waiting out seven long years.
And when that time came to an end, she had left the mansion just as she’d planned — leaving only a letter and papers behind.
A bitter expression crossed the Duke’s face.
Had her bright smile at Nick’s birthday banquet been because she was happy — that the waiting was finally over?
He felt hollow. Everything seemed twisted beyond repair.
After sitting in silence for a long while, the Duke finally called someone in.
The door opened, and the captain of the knight order entered.
The Duke issued his command.
“…Find the Duchess’s whereabouts.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
The captain bowed deeply.
The Duke added quietly:
“Even if you find her, do not let her see you.
Just find out where she is — and report only to me.”
He wanted to speak with her first, before stamping the seal on their divorce.
