Chapter 9
“Is that something you should be saying in front of Gael’s grave?”
“Gael… I wanted to become family with your sister.”
Briseis stared at him, wondering what he was talking about, then let out a sigh and replied.
“You are already family to me and Gael. We’re like siblings.”
“That’s not the kind of family I meant.”
Calisten let out a small laugh and stepped closer to her. Then, as if his throat were dry, he began gulping down rum. With each swallow, nearly half of the large bottle disappeared.
“Here.”
Briseis looked at the bottle he offered her and sighed.
“I have classes tomorrow.”
Even so, she desperately wanted to drink. Perhaps because it was Gael’s memorial day, the death of someone who had been like family to her wasn’t something she could ignore.
On impulse, she accepted the bottle he handed her.
Then, just as Calisten had done, she raised it and drank straight from the bottle. Normally she would never behave so unrefined.
But right now, she didn’t have the mental space to care about such things.
The person she had wanted to maintain dignity for—Damien—had broken their most important promise. Gael, who had been like her real family, was dead. And even if she abandoned this marriage, it was obvious another transactional marriage would follow.
It felt like standing in a maze with no way forward—every direction blocked by walls.
“Ugh…”
The bitterness of the alcohol made her groan without realizing it.
“Hah…”
“Quiet down, Cal.”
Calisten let out an involuntary sound as he looked at her drunken expression.
“It’s because it hurts. Your face looks strange.”
At his words, she handed him the bottle, and he stared at her silently.
Though it was night, her red hair stood out vividly. And her blue eyes seemed to have forgotten the night itself.
“Don’t touch me.”
As he tucked her hair behind her ear, Briseis swatted his hand away.
“Ah…”
A small groan escaped her due to the bruises still left on her body from falling down the stairs.
“What is it?”
At her reaction, Calisten’s eyes flickered as if he had realized something.
“Cal!”
He casually threw the bottle to the ground, grabbed her wrist, and pulled up her sleeve. Beneath it, he examined the bruises.
“What is this?”
“Ugh… wait!”
Roughly, he stripped off her jacket and looked straight at her.
“Are you going to tell me the truth, or should I see for myself?”
“What do you think you’re going to see? Are you insane?”
“Yeah. I’ve always been a madman.”
He yanked her sleeve further up, exposing more of her arm until the fabric that had been at her elbow was pulled up to her armpit.
“Cal!”
“Did the Duke hit you?”
“I fell down the stairs.”
“The Duke made you fall down the stairs?”
“I fell myself. It was an accident.”
“Stop talking nonsense.”
Calisten’s eyes burned like flames. Briseis found herself unconsciously staring at him, almost entranced.
“Tell me the truth before I check further.”
“I already told you the truth. I really fell down the stairs…”
He kept staring at her without blinking, as if reading her expression.
“It wasn’t Damien.”
“Tell me honestly—did the Duke do this to you?”
“No. And even if he did, why would it concern you?”
He let out a faint laugh at her words.
“It matters a great deal if the Duke hit you.”
“…Cal.”
“I’m trying to get you divorced. But if the Duke did this to you, then I’ll make you a widow instead.”
“You’re insane.”
“I’ve always been a madman, haven’t I?”
“Stay out of my business.”
As Briseis spoke coldly, he replied without blinking.
“I told you before. If you save my life, I’ll be yours. And you’ve saved me repeatedly since you were five.”
“That wasn’t intentional.”
“Intentional or not, I’ve already decided. So tell me the truth. Did the Duke do this to you?”
As the alcohol took effect, her head strangely felt clearer.
“If he had, I wouldn’t have left Damien alone.”
She picked up her outer garment from the ground.
What Calisten wanted from her was different from romantic love. He was like a child who wanted to possess something he didn’t have.
Perhaps if she fell into his grasp as he wished, he would be satisfied.
But Calisten was the kind of person who quickly grew bored of things the moment they became his.
The moment she resigned herself to obeying him, he would lose interest.
At least, that was how Briseis saw him.
She also now understood that even the incidents where he had struggled to save her life were likely schemes designed to make her his.
She was no longer a five-year-old child.
“I truly want you, Bri.”
When she didn’t respond and simply looked at him, he smiled and continued.
“Your pretty eyes… those full lips. All of it.”
“Dreaming is free, Cal.”
With that, she sighed and turned away first. He followed her.
She glanced back at him once at the carriage, then boarded it, pretending to maintain decorum.
“My dream… might include you as well.”
She didn’t respond, but he seemed satisfied as he closed the carriage door for her.
Thus, Briseis forced her scattered thoughts into order and headed toward the ducal residence.
❖ ❖ ❖
“Eek!”
The moment she returned to the mansion, Briseis frowned. She was already in a bad mood, and what made it worse was Damien and Delilah.
“D-Damie! W-wait! Put me down!”
“Then say you love me.”
“Ah, th-then…”
Damien had lifted Delilah by the waist and was spinning her around in front of the main entrance on the first floor, laughing and teasing her. He spun her so fast that her skirt flared wide.
What’s more, Delilah was wearing Briseis’s clothes.
“Isn’t that my dress?”
Both of them turned to look at Briseis at once.
“Why are you wearing the dress my mother had made for me?”
Briseis felt uneasy seeing Delilah wearing the outfit her mother had personally commissioned from a designer when she got married.
“Are you going to make a fuss over a dress again?”
“That dress was originally meant for our wedding banquet.”
There had been no banquet at Briseis’s wedding. The ceremony itself had been rushed, and Damien had skipped the banquet, saying he wanted to spend time with her.
“Well, isn’t this better? It’s just that Delly is wearing a dress Bri never got to wear.”
He slowly set Delilah down.
The dress, tailored for Briseis, was slightly large on Delilah, and traces of hurried alterations were visible.
Briseis had a curvier figure, while Delilah’s body was more refined and slender. Naturally, the dress was loose on her.
“Enough.”
Briseis no longer wanted to talk and turned to go to her room.
“Bri.”
Damien grabbed her arm and turned her back around.
“Have you been drinking?”
“Yes, I have.”
“Out at night, drinking without your husband’s permission? And you didn’t even attend the victory ceremony?”
“You were the one who told me not to attend, Damien.”
Damien looked down at Briseis with a displeased expression.
“You truly are a wife who doesn’t know how to obey her husband.”
He noticed the loose button on her left sleeve and the bits of debris clinging to her skirt and stockings.
“Were you secretly meeting someone?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I wonder if you’re still pure.”
“Do you really have the right to ask that after kissing another woman?”
“I am your husband. It’s common for men to have mistresses.”
Briseis felt exhausted by the repetitive nature of their arguments.
“Jeron.”
Damien called his servant.
“Yes, my lord.”
“Bring a doctor. I need to confirm whether Bri is pure.”
“Pardon?”
Briseis clenched her fists.
“Do you really think I would cooperate with something like that?”
“Why not? Have you been meeting other men behind my back while I was at war?”
“Have you lost your mind?”
“Yes. If a woman isn’t a virgin, it usually shows. So we’ll confirm it today.”
“And if I’m not pure? Will you divorce me then?”
“Of course not. Even if you aren’t pure, you remain my wife. However—”
He stepped closer, looking down at her with a mocking smile.
“I’m not sure what will happen to your filthy lover. And if you aren’t pure, you won’t be allowed to leave your room until you bear a child.”
Delilah pretended to be shocked, covering her mouth. Though she looked troubled, her expression behind Damien’s back was something only Briseis could see.
“Follow me. I must test you.”
“Let go!”
Damien grabbed her arm forcefully and dragged Briseis up the stairs toward the third-floor bedroom.
“Your Highness! A guest—!”
As they struggled up the stairs, a servant rushed over to speak.
“Tell them I’m busy. And call a doctor quickly…”
“Do you think you can refuse me?”
Though he was a guest, there was only one person who could enter without waiting for permission.
It could only be the Crown Prince.
“Your Highness?”
Damien looked at him in surprise, and Calisten gazed quietly at the arm Damien was holding, as though confirming something.
“Today is Gael’s memorial day, yet you’re laying hands on your wife even on such a day?” he said, testing the waters—his gaze sharp like a predator fixed on Damien.
