Celia’s husband, Count Bonett von Vyrn, was a man with little interest in power.

A man satisfied with doing business moderately and just maintaining his territory and position.

Celia disliked such a husband, calling him petty and unambitious, but she couldn’t completely ignore him as Bonett’s overall business was connected to her younger brother, Kedilen.

In fact, she had married this man with that in mind.

Of course, there was no pleasant affection between the two.

Except for showing appearances, it was a cold relationship with little interaction when inside the mansion.

That’s not to say they were completely indifferent.

They didn’t restrict each other’s actions as long as it didn’t harm the family.

It was a marriage based on this clear understanding of interests.

“Don’t you have anything to say to me?”

“What is it?”

Early in the morning, Bonett, who had been reading the newspaper with coffee at the casual breakfast table, quietly opened his mouth.

Celia calmly asked back to her usually quiet husband’s question.

Bonett, who glanced at his wife maintaining her usual dry and calm demeanor as a noblewoman, lowered his newspaper.

Quietly observing Celia continuing her meal in silence, Bonett realized it was pointless to say more.

He raised the newspaper again and instead of grabbing his teacup, he put his hand in his breast pocket.

When his hand came out of the inner pocket, it was holding several small photographs.

Celia’s eyes trembled slightly as she glanced at the photos scattered on the table, revealing their identity.

“Remember when I said I didn’t care what luxuries you indulged in or who you met?”

His voice was very dry, as if devoid of soul, much like Celia had shown moments ago.

Her face was filled with embarrassment.

Inevitably so, because in the photos her husband had thrown were herself and the man she had instructed to bring Emma recently.

Photos of her meeting and talking with that man.

And even the scene of handing over what appeared to be a money pouch. It was all there.

Celia felt her lips go dry, but she tried to maintain her composure.

“What is this? Don’t tell me you had me followed?”

“This doesn’t seem like the time for you to be turning the tables on me.”

Celia bit her lip at her husband’s uncharacteristic mood-setting.

Still with his eyes fixed on the newspaper, now holding his coffee cup, he exuded not just composure but boredom as if turning his back on the sun.

“I looked into it and found out he’s quite famous. They say he won’t refuse any dirty or filthy job if you give him a few coins. Kidnapping, confinement, murder, abduction. Even torture if necessary to extract information. Whether the target is a noble or not, as long as you pay.”

“Darling, that’s…”

“Celia. I think I’ve been quite considerate to you in my own way. I endured when you urged me to proceed with contracts favorable to your brother in the name of family, I tolerated your extravagances, and even put up with you badmouthing me in social circles. I even understood you meeting other men behind my back.”

The newspaper rustled as it was turned.

His still calm eyes gently read the letters like the morning sunlight, but Celia was feeling the tension as if in the middle of a storm.

“The reason I tolerated it wasn’t because I love you or because I’m too dull to express my complaints, but because it didn’t particularly cause problems for our family even if you did those things. After all, everyone knows we didn’t marry out of desperate love for each other, so even if rumors spread that we’re not on good terms, no one would care much anyway. But.”

Bonett, who had briefly cut off his words, finally folded the newspaper he had finished reading.

Celia swallowed as calm brown eyes steadily fixed on her.

“You should refrain from getting involved with such a maggot-like man and causing harm to the family, don’t you think? Do you think it’s right for me to do such a thing because I don’t trust you?”

“Darling, I can explain this.”

“Explain? Ah, is it because of your brother this time too? Are you saying you did it for your brother and your family, so I should endure it again?”

Celia bit her lip at the sharp voice hitting the core.

Bonett pushed up the corners of his mouth crookedly and picked up the coffee cup he had been holding.

“Wake up, Celia. The reason I’ve been listening to such nonsense all this time was because the Erdi Marquis family brought me many benefits, not because I was afraid of your brother. Yet, you kept urging me to understand, mentioning your great brother every time.”

“…”

“You are the Countess von Vyrn. Until Erdi is attached to your name again after separating from me, you are the mistress of this family and have a duty to protect it. I can’t tolerate you neglecting that like you are now.”

When she released her bitten lips, a numbness came over her.

Celia spread her hands, which were as tense as her bitten lips.

Watching her with dry eyes, Bonett twisted the corners of his mouth and pushed aside the empty coffee cup.

“You should know you’re lucky. If photos like these had been circulating outside, you would be in court for divorce proceedings instead of sitting across from me having a conversation.”

“…”

“If you don’t want to see something like this again, stop worrying about your great brother and take care of yourself. Don’t embarrass yourself unnecessarily.”

With those final words, Bonett stood up and firmly fixed the tie around his neck.

Even as he did so, seeing his wife still maintaining her silence, Bonett revealed a deep sneer as he picked up and put on his coat that he had taken off.

“You sure do use the faltering Erdi as an excuse well. How long are you going to act like that?”

Bonett turned away after throwing that last taunt as if for her to hear. Indifferent footsteps echoed in the dining room.

Until the sound of the door opening and closing was heard, Celia, who had only been regulating her breathing while fixing her gaze on the photos, closed her eyes tightly.

An unbearable sense of humiliation enveloped her body. But even so, there was nothing Celia could do.

Not even the strength to refute Bonett’s words.

Because Erdi was collapsing.

Click-.

Along with the sound of the door opening, the employee who had been settling in stood up.

It was Bell Diop, the branch manager of Pugram Oil’s capital branch, with whom they had exchanged contact beforehand. He put down the documents he had been calculating until just now and turned around.

There stood Barhan, the man who had just opened the door and entered.

Bell approached him with a bright smile, extending his hand to offer a polite greeting.

“Thank you for contacting us. I’m Bell, the branch manager you corresponded with.”

“I’m Barhan Shar. And…”

As Barhan was shaking hands and greeting him, he trailed off and moved his body slightly to the side.

Bell, who had been smiling and watching this, hesitated when he saw a small figure wearing a deeply pulled-down veil emerge from behind.

“This is the person I mentioned in the letter I sent you before. She’s in charge of the overall contract this time.”

“Ah, this person is…”

Bell’s eyes shimmered as he turned his gaze to the veiled figure, letting out a quiet exclamation.

An investor who dislikes showing their face. Bell, who had been staring intently at that appearance, extended his hand again.

“As I mentioned just now, I’m Bell, the branch manager.”

“Please call me Ludmila.”

The voice that came from behind the veil was indeed that of a woman with a youthful voice.

Bell, who had been nodding with a smile, hesitated at the name the woman revealed.

‘…Ludmila?’

That name was known to everyone living in the capital.

It was originally famous, and even if not, stories related to Marchioness Ludmila of Erdi had been appearing daily in newspapers, morning papers, and magazines, to the extent that even street children knew the name.

‘Everyone and their dog uses that name, I see.’

Bell inwardly sneered at the name the woman mentioned.

It wasn’t uncommon for investors who didn’t want to reveal their identity. In fact, it was rather common.

There were many names used in such cases, but the most common was using the name Ludmila, like the woman in front of him now.

It was an implicit expression of not wanting to reveal one’s name, though it was unclear when this practice had started.

Bell smiled brightly as if trying not to let out a small sigh that was about to escape.

“Nice to meet you, Lady Ludmila. Ah, I’ll bring some tea, would you like to sit here?”

Bell, who had turned his body to make room, turned back with pre-prepared refreshments, teacups, and a teapot.

In the meantime, Bell sat down on the opposite side of the two people who had taken seats on the sofa and slowly poured tea into the cups.

“I’m sorry for making you come such a long way. Actually, we should have gone, but you refused, so we had no choice but to request a visit like this.”

“It’s fine.”

Bell’s eyes shimmered as the self-proclaimed Ludmila grabbed the cup, cutting her words short.

The snow-white back of her hand, as if proving she was well-bred.

From her habit of holding the cup placed on the coaster to the way she lifted it, everything was extremely concise and neat.

From a merchant’s perspective, the veiled woman must be from a well-off family.

Were there such women among the Kan people, full of barbaric commoners?

As Bell swallowed his sneer while having these prejudiced thoughts, Ludmila, who had only smelled the raised teacup, slowly lowered the cup onto the coaster.

Bell, who had been curious about the face behind the veil, swallowed a low groan at the sight of her maintaining such clean lines even in this situation.

Even the tea he had offered in hopes of seeing her face had become useless.

Realizing that dragging it out further would be meaningless, Bell adjusted his posture, swallowing his disappointment.

By now, he had beaten around the bush enough.

Realizing that there was no point in dragging it out any longer, he leisurely opened his mouth while grasping the teacup placed in front of him.

“Well…”

“I’m sorry before you speak, but may I ask for one thing?”

“Pardon? Ah, please go ahead.”

How provincial. He felt like laughing at the sight of trying to reveal the main point before the conversation had even started.

From using the name Ludmila, which she must have picked up somewhere, to wearing an ill-fitting veil in an attempt to hide her face.

Even for a merchant without prejudice, the imperial disdain for the Kan people deeply ingrained in his bones could not be erased.

“What kind of…”

“I have no intention of talking with you, so go and call the representative.”

“Pardon?”

Bell, who had been speaking with a smile, asked back with that same expression.

Ludmila slowly and arrogantly crossed her legs.

“Didn’t you hear me? I said I have nothing to say to you. Go and bring Ojenil.”

The naturally flowing informal speech and arrogant voice echoed in the room.

“I’ll give you an hour.”

The red eyes hidden behind the veil glimmered eerily in the darkness.