Chapter 100
Anne, before going to meet Gray, confessed everything about her past to Hannibal with great difficulty.
She told him how she had once fallen in love with Gray Benton and married him, how that had made her the Duchess, and how she eventually suffered two miscarriages and died.
“If this life I have now is real, then all those memories are nothing but a nightmare. I wanted to think of them that way too. But…”
The future that hadn’t even happened yet still clung to Anne’s ankles and dragged her down.
“Gray Benton remembers the me from back then.”
At the same time, he was trying to bring back the most miserable period of her life. That was something she hated more than death itself.
“So today, I’m going to meet Gray Benton and confirm whether or not he really is the witch’s contractor.”
Hannibal, who had listened calmly to her story, promised to come to her at midnight.
But the story was so unbelievable that Anne couldn’t be sure—even if he carried the witch’s blood—whether he would take her words seriously.
“Will he really come…?”
Anne paced the room nervously, checking the time over and over.
It was already past eleven. The servants had all gone back to their quarters, and the mansion was utterly silent.
After another ten minutes or so, she suddenly heard footsteps outside her door. She rushed to the door and pressed her ear against it.
“Anne, it’s Hannibal.”
It wasn’t a knock—just a careful voice at the door. It was as if he somehow knew she was waiting right there.
Her cheeks grew hot, and she quickly cooled herself before quietly opening the door.
“You really came.”
“Yes. I promised, didn’t I?”
There was still some time before they had to head to the greenhouse, so Anne quickly offered him a seat.
“Would you like something to dri—”
“I’m fine. You should sit down and rest, Anne.”
As she fumbled around the table with only water on it, Hannibal instead pulled out a chair for her.
Only then did her tense legs finally feel weak.
With a long sigh, Anne looked straight at Hannibal across from her.
She hadn’t truly expected him to come. She was grateful—and more than anything, relieved.
“Anne, once you confirm Gray Benton is the witch’s contractor, what do you plan to do?”
The witch’s contract was a wish exchanged for life itself, and the condition of that wish had to be fulfilled.
But Anne clenched her fists tightly against her chest, her resolve firm.
“I don’t care what kind of contract he made with the witch.”
Only one thing mattered. Anne lifted her chin toward Hannibal.
“This time, I want to end things with Gray for good.”
She wanted Hannibal to see her truth.
That’s why she had called him here.
“So I need your help, Hannibal.”
She had already refused Gray with words and tried to explain, but he refused to listen. If nothing else, she would borrow the authority of her fiancé’s title and status.
“Do you want me to show him that it’s a relationship a duke cannot dare to interfere with?”
Anne felt guilty, as if she were using Hannibal, but strangely, he only smiled faintly.
“Yes. I want us to look close in front of Duke Benton.”
“Like lovers deeply in love?”
Anne wondered if he was teasing her with such an unnecessary remark, but Hannibal’s expression was serious.
“Yes.”
Anne answered honestly.
If they showed an unbreakable bond in front of Gray, then, for the sake of his noble pride and honor, he wouldn’t dare cling to her so disgracefully again.
“Understood. Then shall we go?”
Hannibal extended his hand to her first.
“…Yes.”
Anne carefully placed her hand in his.
His hand was larger and warmer than hers, and as it enclosed hers, his brows lifted slightly, then fell.
Hannibal tightened his grip, pulling Anne closer as he said,
“Shouldn’t we walk a little more affectionately, while we’re at it?”
Anne looked up at him in surprise, then quickly linked her arm through his, pressing closer to his side.
The night wind was cool as they walked out of the mansion toward the back garden, but pressed so close together, she didn’t feel cold at all.
Even when her breath came out white in the chilly air, it only felt refreshing.
If only it could end with just a quiet walk between the two of them, she would want nothing more.
But before long, their destination appeared before them. Inside the glass greenhouse, Gray was already waiting.
Just seeing his red hair made Anne feel exhausted before anything had even begun, but she steadied her heart.
This wasn’t about Gray. This was about her—and Hannibal.
Summoning her courage, Anne pushed open the greenhouse door.
“Anne?”
The moment Gray heard her, his face brightened. But then, when he saw Hannibal following behind her, his expression immediately darkened.
Anne walked past the flustered Gray and sat down first, speaking in a cold voice.
“I can’t afford to be caught in the same kind of rumors again.”
How could she trust a man who had once chased after her for a private talk, only for it to end in scandal?
Gray’s face showed deep disappointment at the turn of events, which was completely different from what he had envisioned.
He glanced nervously between Hannibal and Anne, who sat side by side.
“I didn’t think you’d come with him, Anne.”
Of course he had expected her to come alone. His wounded expression only drew a sharp, dangerous look from Hannibal.
Sensing the atmosphere, Anne quickly spoke up in a firm tone.
“Unlike someone who casts people aside at the slightest suspicion, Hannibal trusts me, Duke Benton.”
Her manner was flawless, elegant—befitting Hannibal Clyade’s fiancée.
When she then gave Hannibal a meaningful look, Gray’s lips twisted bitterly.
“Anne, I came here to help you.”
He spoke hesitantly, almost as if checking Hannibal’s reaction.
“You were the one who asked to meet secretly.”
As though she had schemed something, he made it sound as if she had brought her fiancé only to humiliate him.
Anne couldn’t understand why Gray was doing this to her. This wasn’t affection—it was harassment.
If he truly felt sorry for the way he had treated her before, he wouldn’t be acting like this now. If he had even liked her a little, he would never trample on her honor.
Even the late Duchess at least made her feelings toward Anne clear.
Gray’s feigned pitiful expression was nothing but disgusting. Hannibal, seeing Anne’s resentment, mocked him.
“So you’re saying the sole reason you came all the way west was to help Anne Perot?”
To think a duke would come west for such a reason—Hannibal’s question was sharp. Gray answered casually,
“Of course, I also came to serve as a bridge between Prince Nathan and the young count. But there’s a proper order to things, isn’t there?”
Both Anne and Hannibal were shocked at how lightly he spoke, as if supporting the first prince and securing the imperial succession wasn’t even important to him.
Hannibal’s eyes grew darker with hostility.
“So pursuing another man’s fiancée takes precedence?”
His voice was sharp, cutting. Anne glanced at him—he didn’t need to go this far.
“Hannibal.”
She called his name gently, trying to calm him. But seeing this, Gray’s face twisted with anguish.
Hannibal then deliberately placed his hand on Anne’s shoulder, showing off their closeness.
Their affectionate display, their gazes meeting, pushed Gray over the edge. He slammed the table with a bang.
“I am Anne Perot’s only true lover! Her one and only partner and husband in this world—”
“Shut up!”
Husband?
Anne turned on him, shouting, chills running down her spine. Her trembling was so strong that Hannibal could feel it through his hand on her shoulder.
But she knew Gray would only be pleased to see her shaken, so she steadied her breathing and spoke firmly.
“You are nothing to me now, Gray Benton.”
Whether his blood-red eyes filled with grief, anger, or hatred—it no longer mattered.
Anne no longer cared how Gray looked at her. All she focused on was pouring out her own feelings.
You are nothing. We ended long ago, and there will never be another beginning.
“Anne…”
Gray called to her pitifully. Anne gave no answer, but he still treated her as if she were the same woman he once knew—
The maid who had loved only him, the fragile duchess who had depended on him.
“Anne, I know you’re still hurt. Stay angry until your heart heals—it’s fine. I still have so many things I need to tell you. You must feel the same.”
His tone, as if coaxing a sulking child, and the sidelong glance he gave at Hannibal revealed his true intent.
It was as if he were forcing Anne to accept him, hinting that there were secrets between them Hannibal could never know.
Rather than respecting her, he was trying to use her past to manipulate her.
Anne, who thought she could no longer be disappointed, flinched at this new display of cowardice.
Perhaps mistaking her reaction as wavering, Gray’s confidence swelled again.
“Do you think anyone else could understand what happened between us? Anne, he knows nothing. Clyade can do nothing for you. But I—I can make you happy. Not some barbarian from the west, but me, a duke. Only I can heal the scars of your past. You know this, Anne.”
Thumping his chest, Gray spoke passionately, then leaned toward Anne, whispering:
“And if you knew what I’ve endured for your sake, you’d be shocked.”
