Chapter 62
Lately, Claudio could think of only one person.
Marsha.
Marsha…
Why did she keep coming to mind like this?
Was it because such a small, fragile woman was forced to live such a harsh life?
Because even when she frowned, she somehow looked endearing?
Because she made everything she wore look graceful and beautiful?
Then suddenly, the memory of her crying in his arms after a nightmare rose in his mind.
Just recalling it made his chest ache and his mouth taste bitter.
What on earth was happening to him?
…No way.
At the sudden thought, Claudio furrowed his brow and laughed aloud.
Ha!
Surely not that.
Impossible.
It couldn’t be.
He had seen firsthand how his mother had been ruined by it.
How his foolish father had wasted himself, shirking duty and chasing after it.
It was a sickness.
A terrible disease that consumed anyone who caught it.
Most people lived unaware and were devoured without resistance—but not him.
No one in the world despised and abhorred it as much as he did.
With such hatred, there was no way it could ever claim him.
So why then—when he heard that Wilford had once been Marsha’s fiancé—had he wanted to tear the man apart on the spot?
And not only him.
That man Lucas, who clearly desired Marsha despite being engaged, made Claudio want to hunt him down and destroy him as well.
He had despised others before, yes, but never had he felt such a sharp, murderous intent.
And all for reasons as absurd as this: that they had once been Marsha’s fiancé, or that they carried her in their hearts.
How could that be?
Could this be… jealousy?
Jealousy was a foreign emotion to him.
He had never lacked for anything.
Whatever the world cherished, he could obtain with ease—and most of it, he already possessed.
Why would he ever have cause to envy anyone?
And yet here he was, consumed with jealousy toward men with far less power and status than himself.
Why?
He asked himself, and his heart answered:
Because one of them, even for a moment, was Marsha’s fiancé.
Even the thought that another man had seen sides of her he never had was unbearable.
That man must have walked with her arm in arm, spoken of marriage, dreamed of a future together.
How many times had that tender woman smiled at him, whispered “I love you” in her sweet voice?
Claudio’s lips twisted into a bitter smile.
Overwhelmed by the sting of defeat, he could no longer deny it.
I… this woman…
…I love Marsha.
So he had become a fool after all.
In this vast world, among countless people, it had to be her.
Of all people, he had met her—and had fallen in love.
Now, he wanted her to be truly his.
Even before he recognized it as love, he must already have been drawn to her.
That was why he had wanted to keep her near, inventing excuse after excuse.
Why he had wished, above all, that she would remain in his life.
But if he suddenly confessed this now, would she not simply be bewildered?
“I like that you see me as myself.”
“….”
“So please… forgive me.”
Claudio’s low voice was solemn, almost deferential.
Marsha lifted her gaze to his, her eyes reflecting the moonlight.
There was no trace of mockery in him, only careful restraint—as if he feared his request might sound like a Duke’s command.
“…You really weren’t playing with me?”
“Never.”
He shook his head firmly.
Then a ghostly echo whispered at her ear:
Don’t believe him.
You’ll only be hurt again.
Marsha closed her eyes tightly.
She wanted to believe not the voice in her memory, but the man standing before her.
At least, just for now.
“…All right. I’ll believe you.”
As she nodded, the heaviness in his crimson eyes lit up with sudden vitality.
“Truly?”
Marsha blinked, startled at how moved he looked.
To an onlooker, one might think she had just forgiven him some great, unforgivable debt.
He looks like a puppy being praised…
actually a little cute.
The thought slipped unbidden into her mind, and she quickly shook her head.
What am I even thinking?!
“What is it?” Claudio asked.
Her cheeks were flushed when she replied, “It’s nothing. Anyway… if you didn’t mean to deceive me in a bad way, then I suppose there’s no reason to stay upset.”
She gasped as though shocked by static, clapping both hands over her mouth.
“Oh my! Look at me. I misspoke. I’m sorry.”
“What misspoke?”
Everything she had just said had been meant to ease his heart.
“I… I called you you. How could I address a Duke like that?”
Claudio’s eyes gleamed.
Was she teasing him?
No… she’s completely serious.
After studying her face, he shook his head.
“I told you—I like when you see me as myself. Do you not understand what I mean?”
“Of course I do. But I can’t just keep calling you Mr. Dio, now that I know the truth.”
“Why not?”
He rested a hand at his waist and tilted his head, utterly fearless.
“Because it would be wrong to keep calling you by a false name now that I know your real one.”
“It’s not entirely false. My name is Claudio. Dio is simply a nickname.”
“What?!”
Marsha’s jaw dropped.
She had been calling him by a nickname all this time, without realizing it.
Her face turned crimson.
“Then I must never call you that again!”
“So you’ll call me by my name instead? If you insist, I won’t stop you.”
“What? How could I dare call a Duke by his name!”
She sputtered, flustered, while Claudio chuckled softly.
Did she not realize?
She was already sparring words with the very Duke she claimed she couldn’t even address.
“Why are you laughing?” she asked, lips pouting.
“It just seems there are many things we’ll need to sort out—starting with how you address me.”
“Speaking of which…” Marsha ventured, “what will happen to Wilford?”
“Why? Are you worried?” Claudio asked, his tone edged with disapproval.
“Of course not! You must have overheard earlier. Just the thought of him makes my skin crawl.”
“Yet you don’t seem to wish him dead.”
Her face paled.
“H-he’ll be executed?”
He had once reassured her that this estate was no place where heads rolled at every mistake.
He’s joking… right?
But Claudio bent down, meeting her eyes.
“Breaking into the Duke’s villa is a serious crime.”
Marsha blinked rapidly, swallowing hard.
“And after the trouble he caused me, there must be proper punishment.”
“B-but surely not death…”
One of his brows lifted.
Realizing her slip, she waved her hands frantically.
“Of course, it’s for you to decide, not me. I don’t know the law.”
Claudio frowned.
His harsh words had frightened her.
He had only wanted to be firm, but now he regretted it.
I should have held back.
Clicking his tongue, he straightened.
“His head will remain. But his life won’t be comfortable. That much I can decide.”
“Why are you asking me? It’s not for me to say…”
“I just wondered if you might carry guilt in your heart otherwise.”
What kind of reasoning was that?
Marsha blinked innocently, and Claudio asked,
“If you still care about him, tell me honestly. For your sake, I could show lenience.”
“As I said, I don’t care what happens to him.”
“Yet you worry he’ll lose his head?”
“Punishment is one thing, but anyone would shudder to see someone they once knew beheaded.”
“Is that so? Then since he won’t die, you needn’t think of him again.”
Claudio did not want her burdened with guilt, recalling Wilford every so often.
“Why would I? If I could, I’d cut him out of my memory entirely.”
She shivered, and Claudio’s lips curved in satisfaction.
“In any case,” Marsha said, gripping the coat tighter around her shoulders, “we still have much to discuss—about you, and about what comes next.”
Claudio nodded and began walking, very slowly, so she could follow without difficulty.
