Chapter 04
When she asked that question, Reinhardt paused for a moment in thought.
“No matter what others say, you’re my legal wife. That means I have a responsibility to protect you.”
“……”
But Claudel’s face was still clouded with deep doubt.
Wife.
Of course she couldn’t believe it—because not once in her life had that title ever meant protection for her.
On the contrary, she had been trampled on again and again precisely because she was someone’s wife.
Watching her expression, Reinhardt gave a faint, bitter smile.
“But I suppose that kind of answer doesn’t really convince you.”
He lightly shrugged his shoulders.
“I just want to. That’s all.”
Claudel’s eyes widened slightly.
“…Just because?”
“Yes. Do we really need some grand reason to treat another person…
as a fellow human being?”
A fellow human being.
That phrase echoed deep in her ears.
Reinhardt saw Claudel as an equal, as a person—just like himself.
She had never met someone like that before.
…And somehow, that made Claudel’s chest ache.
After that—
Reinhardt told her to get plenty of rest, then quietly left the room.
“It must be hard to marry me while your heart belongs to someone else. I understand.”
Claudel kept replaying those words in her head and gave a short, bitter laugh.
Her father, Viscount d’Autriche…
The King, who took her as his mistress…
And all her former husbands—
They had all said they loved her.
But the only thing that had been torn to shreds under the name of love… was Claudel herself.
So she could no longer believe in love.
And yet…
“I don’t want to misunderstand you.”
She never imagined someone like that could exist.
Someone who didn’t see her as the King’s mistress, or a shameless woman who cycled through husbands—
But simply as “Claudel.” A person, an individual.
If that was true…
Maybe she didn’t need to be constantly anxious or afraid around her husband anymore.
Claudel silently looked down at the thick bandages wrapped around her wrist.
Then slowly, she closed her eyes.
That night—
For the first time in a long time, Claudel fell into a deep sleep…
without even dreaming.
Life in the duchy was simply peaceful.
At first, Claudel felt awkward during those warm and gentle days—
But like clothes gradually getting wet in a light drizzle,
she slowly began to grow used to the calm.
“Have you eaten yet? If not, let’s eat together.”
She shared at least one meal a day with Reinhardt.
“The sunlight is lovely today. Why don’t we take a walk?”
Sometimes they would stroll side by side through the garden.
Once, Claudel had found his outstretched hand unfamiliar and hard to accept—
But now, she had learned to take that hand without hesitation.
“Have sweet dreams, Claudel.”
Lying beside him, hearing the steady rhythm of Reinhardt’s breathing—
Claudel realized that her husband never laid a hand on her.
To go to sleep without fear, in peaceful silence… was true happiness.
“The Duke probably just pities me.”
Like a stray puppy, shivering in the rain—too pitiful to leave alone.
That must be the kind of warmth he was giving her.
Though it was probably closer to sympathy than romantic love,
Reinhardt still treated Claudel with respect as his wife.
And Claudel found salvation in that warmth.
Then, on a morning in early summer—
While walking with Claudel, Reinhardt absentmindedly plucked a flower and handed it to her.
Tiny blue blossoms were blooming along a single stem.
It was forget-me-not.
“This flower… it’s almost the same color as your eyes, Claudel.”
Claudel hesitated for a moment, then accepted the flower with great care.
“…It’s beautiful.”
Her slender fingers gently stroked the delicate petals.
“Thank you.”
Once expressionless—like a doll sculpted from ice and snow—
Claudel smiled for the very first time.
Not for jewels or fine silk…
but for a simple, humble flower, plucked carelessly from the garden.
And in that moment—
Reinhardt’s heart stirred slightly.
And so, on one late night—
Half a year had passed since they became husband and wife.
Claudel gathered up every last bit of her courage and gently grabbed the collar of Reinhardt’s robe.
“I… I’m okay now.”
It was a vague, incomplete sentence.
But Reinhardt immediately understood what she meant.
After all, he had deliberately held off their first night together,
considering how hesitant she had always been.
“Claudel, there’s no need to push yourself.”
He said with concern, but Claudel only shook her head.
She wanted to tell him:
If it’s you, I don’t mind.
No—I want to.
But the words stuck in her throat like thorns.
So instead, she just tightened her grip on the collar of his robe.
At that moment—
The violet eyes that always stayed calm and clear turned soft, clouded with warmth.
“Claudel.”
A large hand gently cupped her cheek.
“This means… you’re giving me permission.”
It began with kisses—pouring down like rain.
A sweet heat spread through her body.
So different from all those countless nights with the King and her former husbands.
There were no rough hands yanking her by the hair.
No filthy curses spat out like venom.
Only warmth. Only gentleness.
Claudel squeezed her eyes shut, unsure what to do.
But as Reinhardt’s eager hands clutched the thin nightgown wrapped around her body—
Ah.
Claudel froze.
[Hermann Roel Tscheringen Flandre]
The cursed name of the King, branded into her body like a scar.
She had told herself it would be okay to show it.
She had received so much kindness from Reinhardt already.
So even if he rejected or hated her after seeing it—
She had decided she would accept that.
She really had made up her mind… and yet—
“N-No…!”
Her mind went completely blank.
Claudel panicked and tried to flee his touch.
In the struggle, her thin nightgown slipped off her body.
“……”
“……”
A silence fell—one that felt as heavy as death.
Reinhardt stared at the King’s name engraved on her body,
his eyes darkening like a deep abyss.
‘No… he saw it…’
Claudel felt a wave of terror wash over her, so strong it made her dizzy.
She looked at Reinhardt with a face full of fear.
‘Of course… he must think I’m filthy too.’
She could still vividly remember the faces of her previous husbands
the moment they saw that mark for the first time—
those expressions twisted with disgust and revulsion.
She had grown used to those looks.
But no matter how many times she saw them, they never stopped hurting.
If Reinhardt looked at her with the same eyes—
‘Forget it.’
Claudel hurried to pull her robe back into place.
“I’m sorry… if it disgusted you…”
“……”
Even then, Reinhardt said nothing,
his gaze still locked on the King’s name.
And then—
“How… could anyone do something like this to another person…”
A voice came through his clenched teeth—almost a groan.
In his trembling violet eyes, countless emotions swirled—
Sorrow. Anger. Guilt.
And…
A deep, heartbreaking regret—
That he hadn’t been able to protect her before she had to go through such horror.
‘Why… you…’
Seeing that indescribable look on his face,
Claudel felt a tight ache in her chest.
The ones who hurt her were still out there, walking proudly with their heads held high.
None of them had ever asked for her forgiveness.
None had admitted they’d done anything wrong.
So why—
Why was he, the only one who had shown her kindness,
the one making that kind of face?
A moment later, Reinhardt let out a long sigh, as if steadying himself.
Then, without hesitation, he leaned down and placed a kiss—
right over that name.
“Y-Your Grace…?”
Claudel called out to him in a trembling voice.
“You’ve done nothing wrong. So…”
Still pressing his lips to the scar where the name was etched, Reinhardt whispered gently:
“Don’t shrink away.”
The warmth of his kiss,
his breath tickling against her skin—
And in that moment,
the tension that had turned Claudel’s body stiff finally gave way, like a thread snapping loose.
“Do you… not think I’m filthy?”
The words slipped out of Claudel’s mouth before she could stop them.
Maybe—
she just needed someone to confirm it.
That this man, at least, didn’t despise her.
That even if she had been trampled and broken again and again—
she was still allowed to hope.
That maybe…
just maybe, she could still be loved by someone.
Exactly Claudel … it’s those men that skulls be ashamed!!!