TRACR 54

Chapter 54

“Throw away what you don’t need.”

Octavio’s words churned in his head like a spell.

How meaningless the past seemed, when he had clung so desperately to Rebecca for fear of losing her. In the end, what moved him was nothing more than a small blemish.

Yes—hadn’t Rebecca begged him just yesterday to abandon her?

With grim resolve, Zeppelin summoned a servant.

At the mere sound of his cough, three attendants waiting outside the door rushed in at once.

He ordered them to open the wardrobe.

Zeppelin carefully scanned the long row of clothes.

He clicked his tongue—nothing seemed suitable for a day like today.

The attendants busied themselves, holding garments up for him to see.

He kept shaking his head until his eyes fell on a tuxedo hanging against one wall.

It was the one he had worn the day he proposed to Rebecca.

Because of its symbolic meaning, he had carefully preserved it ever since, like an artifact on display.

A satisfied smile spread across Zeppelin’s face.

The perfect attire to mark both the beginning and the end.

“Once again, you’ve come to see me today.”

“Oh, you worried about me? How thoughtful of you.”

“…at least, tell him that.”

Zeppelin, hand on the ornate golden doorknob, froze at the sound of Rebecca’s gentle voice.

Her voice was unchanged—still sweet, elegant, and lovely.

Though he had firmly resolved to abandon her, remnants of their memories clung stubbornly to his feet.

He forced himself to crush those feelings and flung the door open.

“Zeppelin?”

Rebecca stared at him wide-eyed.

As he stepped toward her, Zeppelin frowned.

The heat of the season had made her stench worse than before—but that wasn’t all. He had spotted a black cat nestled in her arms.

“Another cat? I’ll have to order stricter pest control.”

Rebecca hastily let Leo slip out the window.

Then she straightened her clothes and her posture as if nothing had happened.

“Really, getting so worked up over a single cat?”

A brief silence fell between them.

Zeppelin pressed a handkerchief to his nose to ward off the tickle. He inhaled deeply the lingering perfume clinging to the fabric, then tucked it back into his pocket.

Rebecca studied his every movement with a faint smile.

“Do you have something to say?”

“Do you remember this suit?”

Zeppelin gestured at the clothes he wore.

Her expression remained blank as she looked him over.

How could she ever forget?

That was the day she had willingly walked into her own coffin.

Rebecca remembered even the sound of his breathing from that day.

“Of course. Isn’t that what you wore when you proposed to me? Ah, I miss those days.”

She truly did miss them.

If only she could go back, she would not be trapped in this grotesque farce. She would have refused his proposal and lived peacefully as the naive eldest daughter of House Obelia.

Zeppelin lowered his head beneath her reminiscing gaze.

The blisters covering Rebecca had grown more grotesque than ever.

He could no longer deny it.

His once-lovely fiancée was ruined beyond repair.

“Are you not in pain, Rebecca?”

Rebecca flinched at the sorrow in his sky-blue eyes.

It was almost the first time he had ever shown such concern.

Not in pain?

There had never been a single day in her life without pain—because of him.

The truth swelled in her throat, but what came out was different.

“If this is my fate, then so be it.”

“Yes. Fate. Let’s blame fate, the both of us.”

“What do you mean?”

“Become a saint, Rebecca.”

She widened her eyes, then narrowed them, silently questioning him.

Zeppelin frowned, sighed, then spoke flatly.

“Divorce me. I can’t stand to watch you deteriorate any further.”

“So you’ve decided.”

Rebecca let out a weary laugh.

Divorce. At last, he had spoken the word himself.

“I asked for this, but hearing it aloud still stings.”

He should have hesitated, just once.

The Rebecca of old would have shown reluctance, would have clung a little.

She swallowed her joy and instead put on a sorrowful face, lightly grasping his arm.

“You won’t reconsider?”

Zeppelin stared at her hand touching his arm, his face contorted.

Then, as if burned, he coldly slapped her hand away.

Her arm was covered with swollen, bursting blisters.

Rebecca gazed down at her rejected hand with a wounded expression.

Zeppelin pitied her, but his mind was set.

No—he was certain.

I, Zeppelin Devonshire, no longer love the Rebecca before me.

Pity was not love.

He sat her down before a mirror.

“Look closely, Rebecca. This is what you are now.”

Rebecca smiled faintly, the expression already fading.

“Hideous, isn’t it?”

“Yes. Hideous. What husband in the world would welcome such a face? And besides—you’re barren.”

“…”

“You can’t bear heirs. My patience isn’t strong enough to live with a wife stricken by a dreadful disease. So you must divorce me, Rebecca.”

She slowly lifted her head, wanting a more definite answer.

“So you’re abandoning me, Zeppelin?”

Her deep blue eyes were clearer than ever, and he hesitated.

But the foul stench wafting from her brow brought him back.

“Yes. Hate me if you must. But remember this: it’s as if you abandoned me. You let yourself rot away.”

How typical.

These Devonshires always claimed things were unavoidable.

Rebecca let out a hollow laugh at his refusal to take any blame.

Zeppelin turned his back.

He didn’t want to see her any longer.

Fearing his resolve might falter, he hurried to the door.

From behind, she cried out at his broad back:

“You’re the one abandoning me! You’ll regret it.”

He stopped, but without turning replied:

“I won’t regret it.”

The door slammed. Behind it, Rebecca’s voice rang out, unable to contain itself.

Zeppelin thought it was weeping.

But in truth, it was laughter—unstoppable, ecstatic laughter.

I did it. At last, I can escape this place.

Yet her joyous steps gradually slowed. Rebecca tilted her head back and sighed.

“Then why do I feel so filthy inside?”

It was what she had desperately wanted.

She had even begged him last night, in case he might waver.

So why did this dreadful feeling gnaw at her?

Instead of blissful freedom, disgust filled her.

“Urgh…”

Rebecca gagged. With nothing in her stomach, nothing came up.

The acrid smell of stomach acid filled her nose as she sank helplessly to the floor.

Was it because Zeppelin’s eyes had held hesitation, unlike in her previous life?

Or was it simply the confirmation that he had only ever loved her body?

Tap. Tap.

Rebecca’s gaze lifted to see Leo tapping on the window.

“You’re still here, Leo?”

When she opened the window, Leo padded in with a flower clasped in his mouth.

“This is… a Celebration Bloom.”

Its blue, red, and yellow petals blended like fireworks.

Imperials often exchanged it when there was something to celebrate.

A smile as bright as the blossom spread across Rebecca’s lips.

It wasn’t even the season for such a flower—it must have been hard to find. Where had he gotten it?

Meow.

Leo nudged the flower closer, as if congratulating her.

Rebecca gladly accepted his gift.

“You’re right. This is worth celebrating.”

She hugged Leo tightly, and he purred—a sound so like the soft groans Julian used to make when she stroked him.

The next morning, two carriages stood ready before Devonshire Manor.

“Go,” Zeppelin said as he boarded one, his face making it clear he would not ride with Rebecca.

Dressed in a black dress up to her neck, her face hidden beneath a veil, she looked as though attending a funeral.

No one came to see her off.

Inside, the household was busy disposing of her clothes and jewelry.

Only Grace watched her departure blankly through a window.

Rebecca climbed into her own carriage.

She had brought nothing with her when she arrived, so it was fitting she left with nothing.

Zeppelin had offered her alimony, but she refused.

She wanted nothing that had belonged to him.

The road to the central temple was smooth.

The divorce procedure was simpler than she’d expected.

Since their vows had been sworn in the name of the goddess Defria, dissolving them required a priest’s approval.

Rumors that Rebecca was both a saint and afflicted had spread widely through the empire.

The grounds for divorce were ones no one could deny.

The priest stamped two documents and handed them to Rebecca and Zeppelin.

After a mandatory two-week waiting period, the papers would be filed with the imperial office, and their marriage would be officially over.

“It’s over.”

“Yes. Over.”

Years of marriage ended in an instant.

For a moment, neither spoke.

Zeppelin glanced sideways at Rebecca. With her black veil, her expression was unreadable.

“I truly hope you’ll be happy.”

It was the customary farewell—and sincere, too.

He waited for her reply, but she gave him only silence.

Yes. I’ll be happy. And your misfortune is only just beginning.

Rebecca hid a bitter smile beneath her veil.

When it was clear she would say no more, Zeppelin sighed.

“Then, farewell…”

He left. He left her alone.

Rebecca blinked, hardly believing it.

At that moment, a heavy die rolled to her feet.

“What’s this…?”

She picked it up—solid iron.

Someone must have thrown it in a fit of excitement.

Rebecca held the weighty die and stared at Zeppelin’s retreating back.