I Don’t Want To Be The Hero’s Wife – Chapter 006

A room lit by candlelight instead of a bulb.

The man held a cigar between his lips, his gaze fixed on the flickering candle flame. He had yet to change out of his clothes, only his outer coat was removed. Between the loosened tie and unbuttoned shirt, a glimpse of his chest was visible.

“Ah…”

Rona had come looking for her husband’s bedroom and ended up inadvertently peeking through the slightly ajar door. A wave of guilt washed over her, and she lowered her gaze.

But then, through the gap, his blue eyes landed on her.

“…!”

Rona stiffened in shock, biting her lip.

Without turning his head, the man shifted his eyes toward the silhouette outside the door. He set the barely smoked cigar down on the ashtray stand. The glowing tip, still trailing a wisp of smoke, soon went out.

“Come in.”

As the smoke dispersed, the man’s face became more visible. The face that always seemed tense and guarded looked slightly relaxed tonight.

Creak.

As Rona carefully pushed the door open and stepped inside, Anark reached for the glass of liquor on the table, replacing the cigar with a drink.

“What brings you here? You came all the way to my room.”

She hadn’t spoken a word to him at the banquet, so her sudden visit must have come as a surprise. But Rona couldn’t answer immediately.

She did come with a purpose, but speaking it aloud felt shameful, like it was caught in her throat. Rona hesitated, bowing her head, then clenched her fists and raised her eyes, remembering the word “divorce.”

“Um, excuse me…”

Anark looked up at her voice.

And then…

“…”

“…”

Silence filled the room.

Anark froze for a moment, drink in hand, then slowly narrowed his eyes.

Rona was wearing a negligee that revealed the curves of her body.

The pale skin she always kept hidden was now faintly exposed through the sheer fabric. The deep neckline failed to properly cover her full chest, letting a hint of soft pink areola peek through. The short hem barely covered her hips, sparking the imagination with what lay just out of view.

His wife, almost undressed, had appeared in his bedroom late at night.

It was an unmistakable act of seduction.

“…Ha.”

Whether it was a sigh or a breath of awe, the sound made the back of Rona’s neck flush red as she lowered her gaze.

‘Does he hate it…?’

The negligee Rona found in the bedroom, left behind by Madam Andersen… was something no noblewoman, not even a commoner, would wear. It was vulgar by any standard.

Andersen had thrown it at her, mocking her for never having shared a bed with her husband, and dared her to dress like a barmaid and try coaxing the Count into delaying the divorce.

At first, Rona had been so humiliated she couldn’t hold back tears. But eventually, a darker thought crept in: maybe this was the best she could do.

Unlike herself, who hadn’t changed since childhood, Anark had completely shed his filthy, tragic past.

He had achieved great military success during his years in the army, and his accomplishments were celebrated across the empire, published in every paper.

Anark had become so distinguished that any woman of noble birth would gladly sit beside him if he desired it.

No, in fact, there were likely countless noble ladies eagerly awaiting the moment he divorced.

He was the kind of man who could even make remarriage look like a dream.

How could someone as worthless as me ever hope to hold on to a man like that?

Should I beg him not to divorce me, invoking my parents’ dying wish? Or should I plead with him not to cast me aside for the sake of our bond?

She’d played out countless scenarios in her head, but none gave her an answer.

That was when Rona saw the negligee Madam Andersen had practically thrown at her and thought of a wife’s duty.

Until now, there had been no progress in the marital relationship between Anark and Rona.

It made sense, Rona had not yet been of age, and Anark had been too busy to spend time at home.

But things were different now. Rona was an adult, and Anark had been rewarded with a count’s title for his accomplishments. He was no longer as swamped with work as before.

If, from now on, they began fulfilling their roles as husband and wife… then maybe…

Maybe Anark would stop thinking about divorce. And if a child were to come between them…

That thought alone made Rona, as if possessed, take off her heavy dress and change into the negligee. Not even considering the idea that Anark might already be asleep, she rushed straight to his room without so much as a nightgown.

It was a blessing that, whenever Anark stayed in the mansion, no servants were allowed on the second floor.

Standing in front of Anark, Rona felt a mix of overwhelming fear and desperation.

And…

A strange fluttering in her chest. A kind of anticipation.

When she first set out to his room, her only thought was to stop the divorce. But standing before Anark now, she began to wonder how he would look at her.

‘I’ve never worn anything like this before…’

Rona curled her toes and glanced shyly at Anark.

He had always seen her as a child. Her first love.

Now that she was fully grown, she hoped… no, yearned for him to see her as a woman. At parties, there were sometimes men who looked at her with desire.

She always avoided them in the past, but… if it were Anark, maybe it would be okay. No, she wanted him to look at her that way. Not as a burden, but like any other woman, normally, simply.

But Rona’s hopeful thoughts began to wither the longer the silence stretched.

‘Why isn’t he saying anything…?’

It had been long enough for him to at least say something, but the man’s lips remained sealed. As if sensing something, Rona’s hands grew cold.

Her husband, despite seeing his nearly bare wife standing before him, showed no reaction. He simply stared, without moving.

As if watching to see how far she’d go.

Ah.

Their eyes met, and Rona let out a silent gasp. Her face burned. Only now did she truly understand what shame was.

‘I… I actually came to him with my body, just like Madam Andersen said…’

Her breath caught. The pure affection she’d held for Anark since childhood felt like it had been corroded.

She had convinced herself this was all she could do… justified and rationalized it, but that self-pity and self-loathing now felt like they were eating away at her love for him.

Her thoughts were as thin and weak as the fabric she wore, and her cheeks burned with humiliation. How pathetic.

Emotion welled up in her chest, and tears threatened to fall. Rona wanted to run away in shame, but Anark’s gaze felt like it pinned her in place.

His unwavering stare seemed to scold her, and yet, strangely, everywhere his eyes touched felt as though it caught fire.

‘Why is my body… like this…?’

It was a sensation Rona had never experienced. Perhaps it was the composed way he seemed to take in her young body, the way he admired it like art, that left her so dazed.

Anark’s eyes brushed over her collarbone, down to the full curves that swelled beneath. His gaze traced the shape of her breasts beneath the sheer fabric, and she could feel the way her nipples slowly stiffened, sensitive even through the thin cloth.

Rona trembled like a prisoner awaiting execution. Her breath grew shallow at the strange response in her body. A tightness coiled in her lower belly, and she clutched the flimsy fabric tightly.

Unable to meet her husband’s eyes any longer, she shifted her gaze to the whiskey in his hand. Its amber hue resembled her own eyes.

Suddenly, Anark tilted the glass he had been holding. His eyes, damp and somber, locked intensely with hers.

“Rona.”

With that single word, his firm throat bobbed as he swallowed the liquor.

“Ah…”

Their eyes met again, and Rona’s chest trembled. It felt as though he had tasted her. Though he was the one drinking, it was her throat that burned.

Rona remained frozen until he finished his drink. He hadn’t ordered her to stay, but it felt like she had no choice.

Clink.

Only when Anark set down his glass could Rona finally move, as if released from a spell. She gasped for air, and Anark asked in a hungry, low voice,

“What’s your business?”

“N-no, it’s nothing. I’ll go now!”

Rona fled the room in a panic. She couldn’t say a word to him. Not to ask him not to divorce her. Not to beg him not to leave.

And…

Not even to ask him to hold her.

How could she have possibly asked him that, when he looked at her with such indifference, even though she’d come to him dressed so provocatively?

Back in her own room, Rona collapsed to the floor, her legs giving out beneath her. In the end, her husband hadn’t even touched a single hair on her head. To him, she was still…

“Just a child.”

Rona curled up and sobbed. The space between her legs was damp.

The first taste of pleasure she’d ever known had ended in despair.