The news of the cold war between the two quickly spread throughout the Richter mansion.
At first, it was just speculation: "Did they have a fight?" But as the cold war dragged on, everyone in the mansion came to know about the couple's quarrel.
Thus, it had been four days since the cold war began.
"What are we going to do?"
Marie, Sienna, and Markovs whispered in front of Serafina's garden.
Their voices were lowered, exchanging secrets.
"What did the lady say, Sienna?"
Oh dear.
"It seems she has no intention of reconciling today either."
Sigh.
"She’s still using the excuse that she hasn’t fully recovered and is staying in a separate room... What on earth is she planning to do?"
Oh my.
With each sentence, the sighs grew deeper.
"What if... they don’t reconcile at this rate?"
"Mr. Markovs, please don’t say such ominous things!"
"That's right. They will surely reconcile soon."
It was a voice that seemed to be wishing for something.
Sigh.
The three of them sighed in unison as they looked at Serafina and Dante's garden.
"They used to be as close as those adjoining gardens."
But now, their relationship had withered like a neglected garden.
"I hope they reconcile quickly."
May this precarious situation be resolved swiftly.
The three of them could only wish and wish again.
Meanwhile, there was someone else who was equally troubled.
"Your Grace, are you really going to do this?"
Barhan asked, filled with concern, and Dante, with his gaze fixed on the documents, replied.
"What do you mean?"
"You should be the one to approach her first and apologize."
"How can I apologize to someone I can’t even stand to look at?"
"Was that really your true feeling?"
"It didn’t seem like a lie."
Like someone wounded by his own words, cracks appeared on his previously smooth forehead.
Barhan let out a deep sigh.
His overly mature demeanor usually worried him, but why did he act like a child when it truly mattered?
"...You can’t even live properly right now, can you?"
"No. I’m fine."
There was no laughter.
The person who claimed to be fine was trying to eat soup with a fork, practicing with a pen instead of a sword, and tearing open letters while ripping the envelopes apart.
Having stayed by his side for a long time, this was the first time Barhan had seen Dante like this.
It was a behavior that made him seriously suspect that something was off.
Dante shot Barhan a dissatisfied glance at his sigh.
"If you’re so worried, why don’t you go check on my wife?"
"Are you really hoping I’ll check on her because you’re worried about her?"
"...It was bound to explode someday."
Since he couldn’t bring himself to deny it, he changed the subject.
Barhan looked at Dante as if he were a petulant child.
"You should have avoided it exploding like this."
"I was sick to my stomach seeing her immediately think of causing trouble as soon as she got better."
"You should have turned it back to normal after flipping it over."
Only then did Dante’s stubborn gaze, which had been glued to the documents, finally turn to Barhan.
"In a way, this is partly your fault."
"Me? Are you suddenly turning the arrows toward me?"
"Whenever your wife wanted to do something, you always supported her. Even if you couldn’t talk her out of it."
"Those were things the Duchess wanted. I judged that they were not too much of a burden."
This time, it was Dante who was at a loss for words.
"You wanted your wife to live doing what she desired, didn’t you? But look at this."
Dante’s gaze slowly fell as Barhan’s blunt reprimand hit home.
A deep sigh escaped his chest.
His pale face revealed that he hadn’t slept at all for the past few days.
"Get out."
"Your Grace."
"I said to get out."
With a plea that resembled a command, Barhan sighed and left the room.
"Make the right choice. The longer you drag this out, the deeper the regret will be."
Left alone, Dante reluctantly released the pen he had been gripping.
"...Just keep poking at me until the end."
He had been stuck on the same page for hours.
The words simply wouldn’t register in his mind, making it seem like he was just wasting time.
Since the fight with Serafina, he hadn’t turned a single page.
Yes. In truth, he was regretting it.
"Get away from me."
From the moment her hand pushed him away, touching the back of his hand.
"I don’t want to see your face. I hate it."
Tears welled up in his eyes, streaming down his pale cheeks.
"As you said, I’ll just stay in my room and rest... so please just go out."
Even in the moment when her voice trembled with resentment.
Every moment was filled with regret.
I shouldn’t have said that.
I shouldn’t have spat those words out.
I shouldn’t have done that.
I shouldn’t have hurt her.
Since I had decided to pretend not to know, I should have stuck to it until the end.
Of course, it was true that he thought it was something that would happen someday, but not like this.
It shouldn’t have been something that erupted uncontrollably.
At the very least, somehow...
...I shouldn’t have made her cry.
Even with the regret gnawing at him, he couldn’t muster the courage to go find Serafina and ask for forgiveness.
What if she decided to end it all like this?
If she was so fed up with him that she wouldn’t even give him a chance to be forgiven...
Ah. He hated his cowardice to the point of feeling nauseous.
He didn’t want to be abandoned anymore. More than anyone, he didn’t want to be abandoned by Serafina.
Dante slowly buried his face in his large hands.
* * *
These days, the first thing I do when I wake up is reach out to feel around the bed.
"...It’s empty again today."
Though I had been sleeping in late like a proper 'adult' of the new country, strangely, I had been waking up at dawn lately.
Just in case, I pretended to be sleep-talking and reached out, but all I touched was the empty bedspread.
Ha. I ruffled my bangs with my hand and got out of bed.
"What on earth are you planning to endure for so long?"
I was starting to feel like I could pretend to accept an apology if it came.
Even after thinking it over for several days, I hadn’t done anything wrong.
Well, of course.
It did weigh on my mind a bit that I had asked him to leave because I didn’t want to see him...
But I didn’t want to apologize first for just that one thing.
That said, I didn’t plan to avoid reconciliation for life, so I thought if Dante apologized first, I would accept it and let it go.
"Stubborn."
He was stubborn in the strangest ways.
Thinking back, it seemed like it was the same in the original story. Yeah. He wasn’t called a sweet potato maker for nothing.
I buried my face in my propped-up knees.
My outstretched hand still reached toward the empty spot where Dante should have been lying.
Tears began to flow in the chilly dawn for no reason.
...It’s not like I’m going through menopause or anything.
I don’t know why I’ve been crying so much lately.
I used to be someone who rarely cried even when I lived as a countess.
It was ridiculous to think I was far from tears, yet they kept flowing.
The tears didn’t stop even when Marie came to check on me early in the morning.
"...My lady!"
Startled, Marie rushed over and wrapped her arms around me.
Huh. It’s warm.
"Marie. Marie... sniff."
"Please don’t cry, my lady. What are we going to do about you?"
With her worried comfort, the tears continued to flow.
I shared the story I had been holding back about how Dante and I ended up fighting.
"Do you really... think I was in the wrong?"
"No, of course not. That can’t be true. I know how hard you prepared for everything."
"Right? I worked hard. I liked the North, and I liked it here. I tried my best to be helpful..."
Sniffle.
Marie handed me a handkerchief for my running nose.
With her sympathetic gaze, I wiped away my tears and snot.
Marie spoke after I had calmed down a bit.
"...You know, my lady."
"Yes?"
"I thought a lot about whether to say this or not. But if we leave it like this, I think only misunderstandings will pile up, so I have to say it."
What on earth was she going to say that was so serious?
I forgot about my tears and had to swallow hard.
"What is it?"
Marie’s eyes trembled as if she were conflicted until the very end.
Wow. What on earth was she trying to say...
"Actually, my lady. The Duke and I already knew everything."
"What do you know?"
I responded seriously to her earnest confession.
Marie bit her lower lip tightly, her eyes brimming with tears.
"That you are suffering from a serious incurable disease to the point of vomiting blood!"
It was an astonishing revelation beyond imagination.'''