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“I’m saying this because I’m afraid you’ll regret it, Raymond.”
Agatha spoke in a quiet voice, looking at her son's back.
Thinking it was a truly meaningless comment, Ray left the mansion.
Regret.
That was something that already haunted him piercingly.
He bitterly regretted every single moment he had been entwined with that woman. In all his life, he had never spent so much time reflecting on the past and regretting it so pointlessly.
He should not have succumbed to forced threats and chosen marriage. He should not have exchanged words with her, even under the guise of mockery. He should not have given her so much as a glance, even under the guise of surveillance.
He should not have shown a single crack. He should not have given her even a slight smile. He should not have harbored even a shred of curiosity.
To regret meant that he was incessantly recalling every moment he had touched Rose.
It was a horrific form of torture, yet he could not stop.
He must not let himself be made a fool or lose himself by becoming entangled with her to this extent.
When everything was already this regrettable, what more could there be to regret?
“...Um, shall I report now?”
He heard the cautious voice of his secretary.
Ray nodded, wondering why the man was walking on eggshells when he seemed the same as usual.
At least during the day, he could act as he always had.
At night, however, he couldn't sleep due to a sense of betrayal and the thought that she might escape beyond death once again.
He had newly discovered that nightmares could visit even if one didn't sleep. The fact that reality itself could become a nightmare.
Rationally, he believed she wouldn't do that. Since he had agreed to a divorce, she no longer had any need to flee from him. Therefore, she would have no need to do such a thing.
But his body would not listen.
The reason Dr. Halo had come was because she had experienced a brief breathing difficulty.
The moment he recalled her lying there with a pale white face, he had suddenly found himself unable to breathe. Though it was something that would pass in a short while, Elton had been overly startled and called the doctor.
Ultimately, he had ended up going to Rose's bedroom at night to check if she was still alive.
He felt relieved when he heard the sound of her breathing, and after confirming it, he would stare at that hateful face for a long time before returning to his own bedroom.
At least while she was asleep, that woman could not inflict wounds, betrayal, or humiliation, so that was the one satisfying thing.
But this, too, would be fine once she left the mansion.
He just had to cut that damn woman out of his life. As if she had never existed in the first place.
Then this meaningless regret would cease.
Taking a train to a city where voting had not yet begun—and thus campaigning was permitted—Ray reviewed his speech and materials related to the region.
There were closer locations, but he intended to return home late today.
Even while walking from the platform to the campaign site, his secretary continued to steal glances at him.
Ray considered saying something, but he found even that tedious and stopped.
As he delivered the prepared speech without a hitch, executing the volume, emphasis, and everything exactly as planned, Ray wondered what on earth Agatha had been worried about.
There was nothing wrong with him.
He still thought so when he took questions after the speech.
His mind changed when a reporter from the Daily Oakley Review, standing at the front, asked a question.
“There are opinions that you are deceiving the public with unrealistic welfare policies for the people's livelihood. Has the direction of your policy changed because of Mrs. Crawford?”
It was a familiar face. He was the reporter who attacked Ray the most.
It seemed Avery intended to do his best to shake him until the voting period.
“I am not sure why you think it has changed.”
The moment the reporter mentioned Rose, Ray felt a fire of anger ignite.
“It has already been eight years since I entered politics. During that time, along with the late Prime Minister Munro, I have implemented policies such as housing supply, expansion of free education, and reduction of working hours. What exactly has changed? Even the tax reform plan is something I have been planning since two years ago.”
He wanted to stop hearing that name.
“Are you not enjoying the results of the policies implemented at that time right now? If you dislike the results, please speak up.”
The reporter who asked the question did not respond, but someone else in the back raised their hand.
“Can you say that the lady had no influence at all? Doesn't the Gresburn development project alone benefit the Boltonians?”
The person asking the question looked very ordinary. They weren't a reporter, nor did they seem like someone paid to be there.
In that moment, Ray realized there was a problem with himself.
He had always been proud of Orturan and ready to serve the Orturan people.
But now, Orturan was irritating and terrible.
Just as he had misjudged Avery, he had misjudged his own citizens.
He had underestimated the scale of hatred ordinary people could emit—their capacity for it. Perhaps Avery had been exceptional in his ability to handle that.
“Damn Bolton, Bolton, Bolton...”
Ray blurted it out unconsciously.
He was sick and tired of all of it.
“Do the Boltonians cause problems in your lives?”
He felt his secretary, standing beside him, startled and handing him other materials, but Ray ignored them completely.
“Look closely. It is not the Boltonians or the Cuetras who make your lives difficult. If you kick them out and harass them, will your taxes decrease and your wages rise? Or will prices go down? Will you stop being sick?”
As his voice grew louder, the gathered crowd fell silent.
“The person who can make your lives most miserable is not some invisible Boltonian, but someone like me. Look at how much politicians like Avery have made your lives difficult with incompetent policies and greed.”
Suddenly, someone from somewhere shouted, “Please take a look!” and began distributing newspapers.
They seemed to be a newspaper employee, and seeing how they moved as if they had been waiting for this exact moment, it was highly likely to be a newspaper containing a critical article about Avery.
They had a knack for business. People took the newspapers as if possessed.
“Conversely, the person who can help you the most is also a politician like me, so I ask you to pay attention to me instead of Bolton. In that time, if you curse people like me instead, wouldn't we be too scared to do anything but pay our taxes?”
After finishing his words, Ray stepped down from the podium, struggling to swallow the surging anger.
All the way back to the train station, while answering reporters' questions and waving to citizens who greeted him, he thought.
What did any of this mean?
The woman was likely preparing to leave him forever, and he found himself ridiculous, venting his anger on people now.
* * *
When he returned to the mansion after midnight, Rose was already gone.
It would take some time for the divorce proceedings to be finalized, but as if she couldn't stand to stay here even for that period, she had informed him that she would prepare to leave the moment she stamped the documents.
Her attitude, as if she had been waiting for this exact moment, was almost laughable, but he thought it might be better this way.
Once the fact that they were divorcing became known, moving around would be inconvenient due to the public gaze.
A single letter left on the study desk and a wedding ring were the only traces of Rose.
<I'm sorry.>
Only one phrase was written in the letter in a neat handwriting.
What on earth was she sorry for?
Ray stared at the meaningless letter for a long time before crumpling it up.
The paper, losing its shape and crumpling so easily, gave him an inexplicable feeling of unpleasantness.
Leaving the study, Ray headed toward Rose's bedroom—no, the place that had been her bedroom. Without knowing what he wanted to confirm.
When he opened the bedroom door, the room, cleaned and organized with no one in it, proved Rose's absence. She was clearly gone, yet he felt as if he could smell a familiar scent.
He went as far as the balcony to confirm that Rose truly no longer existed here, and even then, he remained standing there.
Looking at the scenery he had once gazed upon with her, and looking at the chair where he had once sat with her, Ray wondered.
Whether all these moments had meant nothing to Rose.
He felt pathetic for wondering about something meaningless, but his memories did not move according to his control.
While smoking a cigarette and looking out at the night garden, he suddenly found the cigarette nauseating.
Feeling as if he might gag, Ray crushed the cigarette out and entered the bedroom, heading toward the bed.
The duvet, spread without a single wrinkle, informed him once again that she was no longer here.
He should be happy that Rose was no longer in his life and could no longer interfere with it, but he simply could not adapt to the fact presented by all of this.
Staring at the empty bed, Ray recalled how much he had not wanted to leave this place.
This bed, where he could be free and comfortable, had felt like a small paradise.
And strangely, how much fear he had felt because of that very fact.
He was finally liberated from those inexplicable emotions.
But why. Why on earth could he not be happy?
The final memory that came to Ray as he stared blankly at the bed was the image of the woman lying on it as if dead.
The moment he recalled that scene, he slowly closed his eyes.
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