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Chapter 42: The End of the Cohabitation

“My husband said something similar to me when he was young. It suddenly reminded me of that time.”

The Marchioness’s eyes curved gently. She spoke again in a soft voice.

“But, Sir, I do not resent you.”

“…Pardon?”

“It is not your fault, so why would I blame you?”

Damian, who had been prepared to accept her resentment, was caught off guard.

Not his fault? No, this was his fault.

The Grand Duchess and the Duke’s family tormented Aracila to keep him in check, and he had accepted her suffering in order to inherit the Duchy.

So this was undeniably his fault…

“It is not the child being tormented who is at fault, but the adults doing the tormenting.”

The Marchioness looked at Damian with an expression devoid of any resentment.

In her blue eyes, the same shade as her daughter’s, there was no anger, no blame.

Facing her, he was suddenly reminded of the Duke’s family from his childhood—how they always blamed him and justified their every action.

“Everything we do is your fault.”
“You shouldn’t have taken after your mother.”
“You should have listened better.”
“You should have been obedient instead of being so stubborn.”

Even the family bound to him by blood had treated him that way. Yet, this woman—someone he had not even known for half a year—was placing no burden of responsibility on him.

It left him with an indescribable feeling—bitter and strange.

“Of course, since you two are married now, I can’t see you as mere children, but parents always view their children as such.”

“…Is that so?”

Having lost his mother over a decade ago and living with a father who was worse than a stranger, Damian had never experienced the kind of parental love the Marchioness spoke of.

Ah, though he had occasionally thought of something similar while watching the Duchess clean up after Oscar’s messes.

Even at that age, one acts like a child, and the other takes care of them like one. No wonder Oscar Vandemir grew up to be such a foolish brat.

“I have decided to support the two of you from now on. So, live well together and be good to each other.”

“…”

“As long as your love for your wife remains the greatest in this world, no matter what hardships come, you will overcome them together.”

“…Thank you for your kind words.”

The Marchioness smiled warmly. Feeling embarrassed, Damian, whose ears had turned red, lowered his head and thanked her.

The warmth in her words seeped into him, making his chest feel strangely tight.

Perhaps, once upon a time, he had wished for a family like this himself.

—

Iris and the Marchioness returned home earlier than expected. Having confirmed that Aracila was in perfect health, their worries had dissipated.

After seeing them off, Aracila pulled Damian back into their bedroom.

“What did you and my mother talk about?”

She had been dying of curiosity about their conversation.

Since her mother had refused to tell her anything, she had no choice but to extract the truth from Damian.

“She simply encouraged us to live well together.”

“That’s all? She didn’t say anything else?”

“Nothing else.”

His straightforward answer didn’t seem deceitful. Realizing that there truly wasn’t anything more, Aracila felt relieved.

She leaned back against the sofa, feeling at ease, while Damian, watching her quietly, suddenly apologized in a low voice.

“I’m sorry.”

“Huh? Why all of a sudden?”

“When Grandmother was tormenting you, I didn’t step in to stop her.”

His eyes darkened.

On the surface, Aracila seemed fine, but he couldn’t be certain.

The Vandemir family specialized in inflicting wounds without leaving visible scars. The Grand Duchess might have left such hidden marks on Aracila as well.

“…Did you cry a lot?”

He clenched and unclenched his fists, looking down as he asked.

Aracila stared at his handsome yet troubled face before answering.

“I didn’t cry.”

“…?”

Surprised by her unexpected response, Damian looked up at her.

She was the same as before she had left—her characteristic brightness completely intact.

“If you heard a rumor that I cried every night, it’s a lie.”

“…”

“I spread those false rumors myself to gain people’s sympathy.”

Aracila grinned mischievously. Damian stared at her in disbelief before questioning further.

“But earlier, weren’t you tearing up when you looked at me?”

“Oh, that? I secretly pinched my thigh to force out some tears.”

Her explanation was so absurd that Damian felt utterly dumbfounded.

He had been furious earlier, seeing her eyes brimming with tears. But now that he knew it was fake, he didn’t know whether to feel relieved or exasperated.

At least she really hadn’t been crying.

“My thigh probably bruised because of it. You have to pinch really hard to make yourself tear up.”

Still feeling the lingering sting, Aracila rubbed her thigh absentmindedly.

Without thinking, she slightly lifted her dress to check if a bruise had actually formed.

Damian, who had been sitting across from her, was startled. He quickly grabbed her slender wrist and pulled down her dress.

“Are you insane? Did you forget I was right here?”

“No, I didn’t forget.”

“Then how could you just lift your dress in front of a man—!”

“Sorry, I just didn’t particularly think of you as a man.”

…What was this? Such a blow to his pride.

Aracila had sincerely apologized for her unconscious action, but to Damian, it sounded like a provocation.

It wasn’t as if he had ever wanted her to recognize him as a man, but still—his pride felt thoroughly trampled. He let out a hollow laugh.

“Is your eyesight so bad that you can’t even tell I’m a man? Or is it your head that’s the problem?”

“Neither. But do you see me as a woman?”

“Well, what else would I see you as? A man?”

His incredulous tone made Aracila feel slightly awkward. At the same time, an odd curiosity bubbled up inside her.

“What if I really were a man? What if I had just used magic to deceive you?”

“Don’t ask me hypothetical questions about things that are impossible. What’s the point of such a discussion?”

Even in the face of Damian’s cold response, Aracila was persistent. If someone refused to answer a “what if” question properly, it only made people more curious.

“Why not? I could look like a woman on the outside but actually be a man with no chest under my clothes.”

“I know that’s not the case. I saw before—”

Damian abruptly cut himself off, his words trailing into silence.

Unintentionally, his mind had conjured the memory of Aracila in her nightwear, the silhouette of her figure clearly outlined beneath the thin fabric.

Aracila narrowed her eyes and stared at him, completely frozen as if someone had cast a time-stopping spell on him.

“What do you mean, ‘saw before’? I never showed you anything. Are you secretly a pervert?”

“…That’s not what I meant.”

“Oh, sure it isn’t.”

“…”

“For someone who made such a big fuss…”

You’ve already seen everything, haven’t you?

At her muttered remark, Damian’s face turned crimson in an instant. If he took off his shoes, even the soles of his feet were probably burning.

“Do you have no sense of shame?”

“The one who peeked should be the one embarrassed. Why would I be?”

“I did not peek!”

Damian shot to his feet, outraged.

He had tried so hard not to look out of consideration for her, even when it was all in plain sight!

Frustrated to his core, he let out a boiling sigh—when suddenly, his eyes landed on the blanket atop the bed.

Striding over, he grabbed it and, without hesitation, wrapped Aracila up completely.

“If I must suffer such accusations, then from now on, wear this.”

“What kind of nonsense is that? How is anyone supposed to walk around like this?”

“You’re a magician, aren’t you? Figure it out yourself.”

Without another word, Damian left the room.

Still cocooned in the blanket, Aracila burst into laughter.

“Ah, this is unexpectedly entertaining.”

Damian Vandemir turned out to be quite fun to tease.

—

The guest room where the Grand Duchess was staying was in complete disarray, bustling with maids packing her belongings.

Overwhelmed by pressure from all sides, she was preparing to return to the ducal estate.

This was a disgraceful defeat, having achieved none of what she had wanted.

“Why are you all so slow?! Can’t you move any faster?!”

Furious, the Grand Duchess took out her frustration on the maids while gulping down cold water.

No matter how much she drank, the fire inside her wouldn’t die down, and her throat remained dry.

As she continued to lash out, unable to contain her anger—

Knock, knock.

Someone knocked on the door. A maid hesitantly opened it, revealing none other than Aracila.

“I heard you’re leaving tomorrow. Since I have work in the morning and won’t be able to see you off, I came to say my goodbyes in advance.”

Despite the chaotic mess of the room, Aracila stepped inside with a bright smile, as if she didn’t notice a thing.

To the Grand Duchess, it was unbearably repulsive.

She was being driven out, all because of this girl.

“Why have you come here? I can’t stand the sight of you, so get out of my room at once!”

The Grand Duchess shot her a sharp glare, her voice ice-cold.

Aracila, unaffected, simply shrugged.

“This is my house. Where exactly am I supposed to go? You’re the one leaving, aren’t you?”

“You—!”

Her audacious retort made the Grand Duchess’s blood pressure skyrocket. Just as she was about to explode—

“Grand Duchess, I know you have a lot to say, but I’ll keep mine brief.”

In one swift step, Aracila closed the distance between them and whispered just loud enough for only the Grand Duchess to hear:

“I hope you’ve learned a valuable lesson about not messing with people carelessly.”

“…!”

Those were the very words the Grand Duchess had often thrown at Aracila.

Learn from me. Follow my example. Understand my power and respect it.

Now, having her own words thrown back at her, the Grand Duchess’s face turned a furious shade of red and purple from sheer humiliation.

Unable to hold back, she swung her hand to slap Aracila.

But—

Aracila swiftly stepped back, leaving the Grand Duchess slapping nothing but air.

“Ugh!”

Having put too much force into her failed strike, she lost her balance and fell forward.

With a loud thud, she crashed into a table, hitting her shin hard.

Pain exploded in her leg, making her scream.

“Agh, my leg! Maria! I think I’ve broken my leg—come quickly!”

“Y-yes, Grand Duchess!”

Her maid, who had been standing by the wall, rushed forward.

“I-I believe the bone might be fractured.”

“What?! Call a doctor this instant!”

“Yes, right away!”

As the maid hurried off, Aracila crouched beside the fallen Grand Duchess.

“With that injury, I suppose you won’t be returning to the capital anytime soon. Enjoy a nice, long rest in the duchy.”

“You—did you do this to me on purpose?!”

“What are you saying? You tried to hit me and ended up falling on your own. Next time, be more careful when trying to strike someone. Understood?”

Aracila added a sweetly infuriating smile before dusting herself off and standing up.

“You wretched girl! Do you think I’ll let this go?! Come back here this instant!”

The Grand Duchess, beyond livid, completely abandoned her dignity as she shrieked.

But just before closing the door, Aracila responded with a single word—

“No.”

Thud.

The door shut, and the Grand Duchess’s enraged screams echoed down the hallway.

Stretching her arms with a satisfied look, Aracila turned and walked away.

And two days later, with a fractured leg, the Grand Duchess returned to the ducal estate—marking the official end of the cohabitation.

 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ✧: *. ꕥ .* :✧ﾟ. ───

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