Prologue

At the beginning of winter when the first frost fell, what tore through the dense dawn silence was neither the cawing of crows nor the howling of dogs.

“Please kill my husband.”

A woman with beautiful platinum blonde hair reminiscent of threads melted from the sun.

“That is my request.”

It was a murder solicitation from Ludmila Perez, the young mistress of the Erdi Marquis family, Minister of Commerce.

Aden, who received her murder request sitting across from her, chuckled softly. Did he hear that correctly? Resting his chin on his hand and touching his lips with his fingertips, Aden rolled his eyes. Ludmila’s red lips, which had just uttered the words to assassinate her husband, the esteemed Minister of Commerce, were now quietly closed.

To think that the word “murder” would come out of those smooth, small lips that seemed to claim they had only eaten good things in life.

“I know it’s impolite, but let me ask one thing.”

At Aden’s question breaking the momentary silence, the small head nodded vertically. Aden pondered for a moment, choosing his words carefully before speaking slowly.

“Is this, by any chance, a joke?”

“Why do you think that?”

“Aren’t you the Erdi Marquis couple known as lovebirds? It’s hard to take seriously that a Marchioness like you would ask for her husband to be killed.”

Whether it was social gatherings or national events, the Erdi couple always went together. The sight of them entering venues hand in hand, smiling at each other, was captured dozens of times a month, decorating newspapers. The virtuous and noble Marchioness Erdi was highly respected in the empire, considered the epitome of an ideal noblewoman. For such a woman to speak of murder.

“I’m suspicious enough to think you might be mocking me.”

“Lovebirds…”

At this reasonable doubt, Ludmila murmured lowly, rolling her eyes downward. Her lips, which had been tightly closed as if in thought, slowly parted after a moment of silence.

“Do you think anyone would make such a request as a joke?”

“No. It doesn’t make sense, common sense-wise either.”

“That’s a relief. I can preserve your experience and common sense.”

“Ha-”

A sigh finally escaped Aden’s lips at her calm response. Ludmila, who had been silently watching him with her red eyes, slightly pulled up the corners of her mouth. With just that brief smile, life returned to Ludmila’s face, which had been as dry as a doll’s.

“Don’t worry. My request is neither a belated joke nor a mischievous prank, but sincere.”

“Isn’t that more problematic? Asking to kill the Minister of Commerce.”

“Is it difficult? I heard you were somewhat of an expert in this field.”

“Hearing that makes me sound like an assassin skilled in killing people.”

“You may not be an assassin, but aren’t you skilled in killing people?”

I have no excuse for that statement. Aden swallowed the words about to burst from his mouth and sighed softly. He rolled his amber eyes, reminiscent of a predator eyeing its prey at dawn. He scrutinized her expression and small gestures, as if not wanting to miss a single detail.

Doing so, he could understand why Ludmila was called the epitome of a noblewoman. From her upright posture like a birch tree to the small action of tilting her teacup, there was not a hint of disorder. Didn’t they say you can’t judge a person by their appearance alone? To think that this proper noblewoman would utter such a vulgar request to kill a man. These things happened from time to time. Marrying for the spouse’s assets and then killing them to inherit the fortune.

But laws had been amended years ago to make such things impossible. It was no longer an era where such petty and sordid acts would work. Was this beautiful Marchioness a bit slow to realize such information? Aden took his time, sipping the wine as red as his lips between her red lips.

“Is it difficult?”

Perhaps because the silence had grown long, Ludmila’s urging finally burst out. Aden put down his glass and after a very brief pause, answered half a beat late.

“Of course not.”

“Then I’ll ask you. Didn’t you say you’d grant any request?”

“I did. But…”

Aden, who had slightly bitten his inner lip, let out a hollow laugh.

“Don’t you think the request is a bit much for having seen the Marchioness’s bare back once? That was an accidental incident.”

“Even if it was an accidental incident, the fact remains that you saw my back while I was changing clothes. And the fact that you said you’d grant any request of mine is also true.”

You have a talent for leaving me speechless. Aden pushed up his eyebrow slightly covered by his bangs and let out a long sigh.

“May I ask the reason?”

“It’s cliché. Adultery.”

“No one asks to kill their husband for that reason.”

“We live in an era where people kill their children for eating one extra cookie. Compared to that, isn’t adultery a noble motive?”

You’re leaving me speechless again. As Aden closed his lips tightly, at a loss for words, Ludmila’s gaze rolled to the opposite side. Though it was still far from the end of the dense dawn, she repeatedly looked outside like someone pressed for time.

“I’ll say it again, I need someone to kill my husband. Definitely and as quickly as possible.”

Ludmila’s request, or rather proposal, remained unchanged. To kill her husband. That was all. What could have made this calm and quiet noblewoman choose murder? And to go so far as to seek out the Habertz Duke’s family, known as the cancer of the Hilard Empire, directly.

Aden, who had been watching Ludmila with his chin resting on his hand, rolled his eyes and continued his deep thoughts before reaching a conclusion.

“I think it’s a difficult matter.”

“Does that mean you’re refusing my request?”

“It means it’s not a problem to be thought of simply.”

The ambiguous attitude and answer, neither acceptance nor refusal, was enough to bring anxiety to Ludmila’s eyes. With a face showing impatience, Ludmila bit her lip slightly and grasped the hem of her dress.

“You said you’d grant any request.”

“I did say that, but that doesn’t include killing someone. Especially if it’s being used in a marital dispute.”

“…”

“Unless you have some valid reason to make me understand, I’ll need time to think about it too.”

“Does that mean…”

Aden briefly pronounced his decision.

“It means refusal for now.”

Though it meant the answer could change later, to the impatient Ludmila, it was a firm refusal. Nothing more, nothing less.

Watching this silently with red eyes, the corners of Ludmila’s mouth settled calmly. The liveliness that had seemed drawn disappeared, and the doll-like dryness returned. Ludmila, who had calmly risen from her seat, picked up her bag as small as her head.

“Excuse me.”

Aden rose to see her off as she turned to leave the room. As his body, which had been buried in the chair, stood up fully, Ludmila, who had been walking, stopped. She turned her body to look at Aden with a short sigh.

“By the way, did you know? Mandarin ducks are actually polygamous.”

“What do you mean?”

“People only judge by what they see on the surface. They don’t care what’s inside.”

The calm voice echoing in the quiet room pierced the ears very clearly. The blood-red eyes, which had been dark red, were tinged with a pale color under the soft lamplight, flickering like a candle about to be extinguished by a gentle breeze. Aden, who had forgotten he was about to see Ludmila off, stood still, just watching her.

“Please forget about today. I hope you have a good night.”

With a final brief smile, Ludmila turned and left the room. Aden, who had been watching until the door closed, slowly collapsed into the chair like a crumbling tower. He silently stared at the quiet door before taking a sip of alcohol to soothe his burning throat. Yet the thirst did not subside. Probably due to the unsettling feeling of having seemingly rejected Ludmila’s request.

“What a strange woman.”

Aden finished his brief assessment of the meeting with Ludmila after emptying his glass.

And three days later, on a bright afternoon.

Extra editions spread throughout the empire carrying news that the noble and virtuous noblewoman, Ludmila Perez, had committed suicide.

The funeral, which had started two days ago, continued until early this morning. The empire was plunged into grief at the news of Ludmila’s suicide, announcing the sad parting of the beloved Erdi Marquis couple. The Serendino Temple was filled with numerous mourners for two days to watch over her final moments. Next to Ludmila’s coffin, who had passed away as if sleeping, her husband, Marquis Kedilen, who had lost his beloved wife, kept vigil.

People mourned and comforted him, and he too received the mourners with great care. Early in the morning after two days of funeral, she was quietly buried in the Erdi Marquis family tomb. People who had gathered until noon to mourn her death gradually dispersed. Soon, dark clouds covered the sky, and only the desolate cries of crows echoed.

“…”

A tall man approached and stood in front of the tombstone inscribed with ‘Ludmila Perez Erdi’ where everyone had left.

“Was this what you meant by asking me to forget?”

Aden, recalling his last greeting with Ludmila, chuckled lowly. Contrary to her words asking him to forget, her face, voice, and their entire conversation were vividly imprinted in his mind.

“Damn it…”

Although he had lived a life where human life was no longer special, Ludmila’s death felt particularly significant.

‘There’s an internal rumor that it wasn’t suicide, but murder.’
‘There was a vague story that the Marchioness was abused, but due to many people envying the couple, the prevailing assessment is that it’s an unconfirmed false rumor.’
‘On the day the Marchioness committed suicide, doctors reportedly rushed to the mansion.’

The aide’s calm reports came to mind. Though none of the information was certain, it was enough to complicate Aden’s thoughts.

‘Please kill my husband.’

The clear midday sunlight disappeared, and the cloudy sky wept. Raindrops falling one by one soon turned into a downpour.

As darkness fell with the pouring rain, the man who had maintained his composure collapsed as if crumbling. The newly engraved tombstone with her name wept as it was hit by raindrops.

The man’s face, silently stroking the tombstone with his fingertips, was terribly distorted. He recalled the red eyes that had looked at him. Aden bowed his waist in front of the tombstone, feeling pain, guilt, and anguish he had never experienced before.

The chrysanthemums that had adorned the tombstone scattered one by one in the rough rain, strewn about messily.

It was a very pitiful scene, like the fate the owner of the tombstone had faced.

Translation complete. 100% of original text translated.