The Wasteland’s Spring Breeze

Another two years have passed.

The discord between the Marquis and Marchioness of Moore had long become one of those trivial pieces of gossip that stank of staleness.

“They say she doesn’t even come out of the castle anymore, right? No social gatherings or anything, always cooped up in her room…. It’s one thing to disgrace the Moore family, but the Marquis can’t even hope for a wife who would support him steadfastly.”

“Of course. Considering his valor and character, it’s truly unfortunate. Even now, mothers with marriageable daughters still cast glances at the Marquis. What crime has he committed? He should just divorce her as soon as possible and find a proper wife…”

I knew what was being said in the capital. Rosalyn, the maid who made it her business to tell me what was discussed in the salons, had a malicious look on her face.

I didn’t expect anything different. The maids’ disdainful attitude towards me was nothing new.

A wife’s power within the household was directly proportional to her husband’s love.

Before marriage, a woman’s worth was determined by her father’s affection, and after marriage, by her husband’s love.

How could I, who had failed in the former, possibly succeed in the latter?

The king had not given up. Occasionally, luxurious carriages that I had never seen before would arrive at the mansion.

However, my husband built the castle walls even higher and stationed fiercer guards at the gates.

The ambitious carriages had to leave without even letting the nobles inside disembark.

The gatekeeper who had let in the problematic lady two years ago was chased out with his wrist cut off.

My husband was not soft-hearted, especially when it came to matters related to his revenge involving me.

“You are not fulfilling your duties as a wife. We are gravely concerned about that. We cannot let the precious Moore lineage end like this.”

Led by the head maid and the butler, the attendants of the Moore household came to see me. The knights loyal to my husband were with them as well.

It’s funny how they all stood together as if they had judged me as some great evil.

“So you’ll help us, right?”

They knew that the sheets my husband and I had spent our first night on had been returned clean.

We had shared a bed only that one night, and since then, we had slept in separate rooms. They knew we had never once slept together after that.

There was nothing I could do here. I merely nodded like a puppet.

They said they would bring in a beautiful noblewoman. Since my husband’s rejection was so resolute, their intention was to forcibly place a woman by his side.

Undoubtedly, it would be another daughter of one of the kingdom’s most powerful families.

I realized that the king’s intentions were also behind the firm stance of the attendants.

The king still wanted to elevate my husband, to make him a central pillar of power that could support him, and for that, he needed my husband to align with the established political forces.

That day, for the first time, I sent tea to my husband.

But it wasn’t really from me. Not a single one of the actions that the attendants would take tonight under my name reflected my will. From the beginning, they only needed my name.

“Madam, we’ll serve Earl Grey. It’s His Excellency’s favorite tea, though you probably don’t know it.”

Rosalyn sneered as she lifted the lid of the teapot, holding a small, white powder. I knew why she had come to my room just to show me that process.

“She’s a beautiful woman. When she was with His Excellency at the last royal party, everyone admired them as a perfect couple.”

But Rosalyn didn’t know that the emotions she intended to provoke no longer existed within me.

No one knew. Only I knew.

I continued my embroidery with a detached expression. Rosalyn pouted and left the room.

The servants didn’t even spare me the mockery my husband sent my way. They kept stealing glances at me as they lovingly handled the luxurious gifts.

I understood. They pitied me, the Marchioness who did nothing, or rather could do nothing, and so they admired my husband all the more.

In response to my husband’s choices, I refused to fulfill any of my duties as his wife.

I did not lead the marquis as a hostess, nor did I go out into society to create a base of support for him.

I intended to show my husband. It might only be as insignificant as a mouse baring its teeth to him, but I wanted him to regret choosing me, even just a little.

That was all a powerless person like me could do.

However, my husband never tried to move me. He didn’t force me to fulfill my duties as a wife.

He watched me, but at the same time, he was indifferent.

Every time I realized that the only meaning of my existence to him was to complete his revenge, I wanted to run. I tried to run away, but I failed.

It was past midnight.

By now, my husband and she would be together.

Imagining the satisfied faces of the attendants over my husband’s impassive face, I gave a bitter smile.

I stopped my embroidery and took off my gown. It was time to go to bed.

Bang!

At that moment, the door swung open. The cold air from the hallway rushed into the room.

“…….”

My husband was standing there. His face was flushed, and his eyes were unfocused as he staggered towards me.

As he got closer, I realized that he was extremely angry. Blood was dripping from his right hand.

“……You’re bleeding.”

As if he didn’t hear me, he grabbed my arm with his uninjured hand, pulling me up forcefully. His grip was scorching hot, like being burned by fire.

“…….”

Blood dripped onto the table. I couldn’t understand why he was here. He should have been in the newly prepared honeymoon room with someone else, someone the servants had brought to him.

“Fuck…….”

He took a ragged breath. His grip tightened more and more, then he suddenly released his hand.

And with that, he broke the chair next to the table. I suddenly remembered that the small chair he had broken with his bare hands was made of solid oak.

“Your Excellency, Your Excellency!”

The voices of the attendants, desperately calling out to him, grew closer.

“Your Excellency, why have you come here in your condition……? Why would you come here like this….?”

As the butler’s concerned voice approached, half of the broken wooden chair flew out the door. A shriek followed.

“…… It seems breaking just a few necks wasn’t enough.”

“Gasp!”

My husband muttered, glaring at each of the attendants who had followed him.

He grabbed the butler by the head. The butler, who hadn’t dared to enter the room, was dragged forward, his face crushed in my husband’s grip.

“No, I must have been too lenient with you all. It would have been easier to just start by severing your heads.”

The butler’s face turned a deeper shade of blue as the blood circulation was cut off. Desperately, he struggled to free himself from my husband’s grip, gasping for air.

“……That’s enough.”

My husband’s movements paused. He slowly turned to look at me.

“I said, stop it.”

I didn’t want to see any more death right in front of me. I just wanted to avoid it all.

My husband’s eyes grew cold. Despite the heat radiating from his body, he created an icy atmosphere in the room.

“Tell the king. My patience has run out.”

He threw the butler aside, then slammed the door shut with a loud bang.

Only a deathly silence remained.

Drip. Drip.

The only sound was the dripping of blood onto the floor.

“……You’re hurt.”

“Don’t come near me.”

He growled lowly. Then, he moved to stand rigidly by the door, like a guard.

It was as if he was determined to keep anyone from entering this room, yet equally determined not to leave it himself. He clenched his fists even tighter, and the blood dripping from his hand fell faster.

“……You’re hurt, you know.”

I didn’t want to see any more wounds, just as much as I didn’t want to see another corpse. Especially not if it was my husband.

“I told you not to come near me!”

He shouted, his eyes bloodshot. His entire body was struggling to resist the effects of the drug.

There were no medical supplies in this room, and it didn’t seem like he would allow me to leave to get any. I found a relatively clean piece of embroidered cloth and handed it to him.

“At least wipe it off.”

Drip, drip.

I hated the sound of the blood continuing to fall.

He slowly picked up the cloth and wrapped it around his hand. Something glinted in his slightly opened palm. I realized it was a shard of glass from the teapot that had held the tea.