Chapter 01
“Put the gun down, Ariana Clifford.”
The man’s cold voice echoed in the lifeless bedroom.
But despite her husband’s stern words, the ash-blonde woman did not move. Standing in the moonlight streaming through the arched window, Ariana Clifford’s face looked as clear as glass. Yet her blue eyes, staring at him, were empty—washed away by despair.
“…Kenneth.”
Her husband, Duke Kenneth Clifford, was the most powerful man in the Cremisa Empire. He controlled the empire’s wealth like a leash around the royal family’s neck.
A man of his power never showed weakness. His dark blue hair was always neatly combed back, and his well-tailored suits fit his tall, strong frame without a wrinkle.
But tonight, his hair was damp and disheveled. He was wearing only a white shirt, unbuttoned at the top, and simple black trousers—far from his usual polished appearance.
Would anyone who only knew him from business dealings ever imagine him like this?
‘Women who desire him probably would.’
Yet, for Ariana, who had been forced into this marriage three years ago, there was no excitement.
No matter how perfectly sculpted his body was, how could she admire it?
Not when those flawless muscles bore scars—gunshot wounds like cruel burns left by an angry god.
And not just gunshots. His upper body was covered in countless knife wounds, as if he had been slashed over and over again.
Every time she saw those scars, she felt suffocated by guilt, like a noose tightening around her throat.
Kenneth knew what she was thinking.
He raised an eyebrow, his signature cold smirk appearing.
“So, you’ve finally decided to kill me. Impressive, Ariana.”
“……”
“It’s quite something, really—thinking about shooting me.”
As a key figure in foreign affairs, he faced assassination attempts regularly. He had already survived a shooting at twenty-one—barely.
Ariana pointing a gun at him wouldn’t scare him.
He took a slow step forward, radiating an overwhelming aura that made every hair on her body stand on end.
“If you want to shoot, go ahead.”
“……”
“But have you thought about what happens after? Who will save you then?”
“…There would be no one.”
Ariana let out a faint, bitter smile.
Her family had betrayed the Clifford household, despite their long-standing alliance. And she, herself, had married Kenneth’s political enemy.
That marriage had lasted less than a day, but the disgrace remained.
After winning the power struggle, Kenneth had taken her as his wife—a trophy, a symbol of his “generosity.”
“The duchess is not to interfere in family affairs.”
Even if he had cut off her hands and treated her like nothing, she had to endure it.
All she could do was smile prettily by his side, playing the role of the obedient duchess.
Society was merciless. If he had at least shown her some kindness in private, she might have accepted it. But on their wedding night, he had made things clear.
“There will be no children between us.”
A night without love, where she wasn’t even allowed to express her pain.
“I will never have an heir from you.”
And the next morning, waking up alone as if abandoned—it was humiliating.
Could this even be called a marriage?
It was more like a jailer and a prisoner forced to live together.
Still, Ariana had been grateful just to be alive.
She could have endured this for a lifetime…
If only there had never been a child.
“But Kenneth… you didn’t have to be so cold to our baby.”
Despite the loveless nights, she had conceived a child.
A baby girl. Even if Ariana was a mother in name only, she had wanted to love her child with all her heart.
“She will be my only family.”
But the baby had barely seen the light of the world before being buried in the cold earth.
And Kenneth…
“You didn’t have to cry,” she whispered, “but couldn’t you have at least mourned with me?”
On the day of their daughter’s funeral, he had simply glanced at the grave and walked away.
The baby had been buried without even a name on her tombstone.
Had he felt no sorrow?
Kenneth folded his arms at her question.
From his expression alone, she already knew what he was about to say.
“…Why would I?”
“Kenne—”
“That child was a mistake.”
His voice was colder than ever, and he made sure to emphasize one word in particular: mistake.
His smirk twisted slightly, though his expression remained detached.
“And how touching, Ariana. Listening to you, one might think you actually loved the child.”
“……”
“A woman as hypocritical as you… how laughable.”
“So that’s how you see me.”
Ariana let out a soft laugh and raised the gun.
But instead of pointing it at him, she pressed the barrel to her own temple.
Outside, dark purple clouds drifted across the sky, swallowing the moonlight and casting the room into shadows.
His expression disappeared into the darkness.
But it no longer mattered.
“Ariana.”
“Kenneth.”
“Stop this nonsense and put the gun down.”
“Our baby’s name was Beatrice. It means blessing.”
If she had not loved her, she would not have given her child that name.
And if she had not genuinely cared, she would not still love Kenneth in spite of everything.
“Actually… on the day you almost died… I was going to tell you that I loved you.”
Click.
There was a clear sound of the safety being released through the silent room.
Ariana gave a resigned smile.
“That was the truth.”
Confessing her feelings only at the moment of death—how pathetic.
Yet, strangely, she felt relieved, as if she had finally removed a heavy stone pressing down on her chest.
At that moment, the moonlight returned, faintly illuminating the room through the window.
What kind of expression was Kenneth making?
“Ari—”
Bang!
But she never got to see his final expression clearly.
The gun was too close to her head.
At twenty-three years old, Duchess Ariana Clifford died.
A perfect suicide, with no chance of revival—right in front of her husband.
People say that when you die, your life flashes before your eyes.
As the daughter of the Viscount Aberdeen, Ariana saw her past moments replay before her final breath.
But her short life had far more moments of anxiety than happiness.
And the person who influenced them the most was her mother, Josephina Aberdeen.
After losing her husband early, Josephina poured all her love into her eldest son, Quentin.
Quentin, three years older than Ariana, was the family’s only hope. Their household was barely able to afford a single servant, and he was expected to restore their lost status.
Naturally, he always received the best of everything—including Ariana’s favorite dessert.
Layers of honey-soaked sponge cake, topped with strawberries and other fruits—a beautiful trifle.
It only ever appeared when Quentin returned home from the academy for vacation.
As if to make it clear: Love in this family was not given equally.
“That belongs to your brother, Ariana!”
If she ever reached for the cake, her mother would slap her hand away.
But I want to eat it too…
Ariana swallowed her saliva but said nothing.
Quentin looked apologetic but never shared his portion. He wasn’t a bad person—he simply never felt the need to give up what was freely his.
“Sorry, Ariana. But a good little sister should know how to share.”
“…Okay.”
“If I become successful quickly, I’ll let you eat as much as you want.”
“……”
Ariana just nodded silently.
Maybe once our family’s situation improves, Mother will love me too.
Even if she was always pushed aside, Ariana still liked when Quentin came home.
At least when he was there, her mother’s beatings were less frequent.
Then, at the age of ten, she met her brother’s friend for the first time.
Kenneth Clifford.
Who in the Cremisa Empire didn’t know that name?
“The royal family may bear the name ‘Claude,’ but the empire’s true wealth is held by the Cliffords!”
The Clifford Dukedom was so powerful that this phrase had become a well-known saying.
Is the Clifford family really that incredible?
Curious, Ariana’s eyes sparkled when she heard of the guest’s arrival.
Quentin, proud of his noble friend, eagerly introduced them.
“Kenneth, this is my little sister! Ariana, this is the friend I told you about. Remember?”
“Yes.”
Ariana greeted him politely, just as she had been taught.
But she also widened her eyes as much as possible, wanting to take in every detail of his face.
And in that moment, she realized her mistake.
Because the young Lord Clifford was more beautiful than the marble angels in their mansion.
