It was an unexpected guest.
Rubbing her eyes, Estelle saw the familiar human figure and hurried outside.
"Why aren't you lying down? What are you doing?"
"And Your Grace, what brings you here?"
It was Lennox.
"Of course, I came to see you."
Me? Why?
Estelle was puzzled, never once imagining that Lennox might have been worried about her.
Even the cold hand he had lent her, and the conversation she had half-heard in her sleep—
She had dismissed it all as a dream.
He's not the sort of person who would come looking for me.
If that was the case, then surely…
With one suspicion forming in her mind, Estelle resolved to bring out her trump card.
"Would you mind turning around for a moment?"
Lennox looked at her with eyes demanding an explanation, but Estelle urged him on, pretending not to notice.
"It'll only take a moment."
Her face was still pale.
Not wanting to argue needlessly with her in that condition, Lennox obediently turned his body.
"Stay just like that until I say I'm done."
…Was she trying to make him stand in punishment?
Though baffled, Lennox quietly remained turned away. In the meantime, Estelle brought out that.
Indeed—
Good! Now he won't dare say anything about wanting to come inside!
Feeling rather pleased, she scattered it around. But then Lennox's voice suddenly cut in.
"What exactly are you doing?"
Caught.
Still, the best way forward was with boldness.
"As you can see, it's dirty around here."
Estelle spread open her hand as if sprinkling salt, scattering dust all around her. Her palm was full of it.
Now that Duren was living in the annex, Estelle couldn't keep the place as carelessly as when she had lived alone.
Worried that Duren's lungs might be harmed, Estelle diligently swept away the dust—until one day a thought struck her.
It's getting so clean… the Duke of Winteren might actually be able to come in now!
That was a disaster.
The one advantage of this shabby annex was that Lennox wouldn't dare come near it!
From that day on, Estelle began collecting dust separately.
It was her weapon, reserved for the worst-case scenario, to deal with the severely germophobic Lennox.
"Didn't it just get dirtier in here?"
"No. I was working hard to gather the dust for you, Your Grace."
She had no idea how much he had seen, but there was no way she could admit now, I was storing dust just to drive you away.
"Look at this. I collected quite a lot in just that short time, didn't I?"
Estelle deliberately held out the container of dust to Lennox.
She had expected him to recoil in horror, maybe even stumble backward—but to her surprise, he showed no reaction at all.
"Stop this nonsense and go back to bed."
Step—
Lennox advanced toward her, lightly trampling over the dust she had scattered.
This was nothing like the scene Estelle had pictured.
Wasn't he supposed to be the kind of man who couldn't even come near dust, let alone step on it?
While Estelle stood frozen in shock, Lennox seized the container of dust right out of her hands.
"The doctor advised you to get plenty of rest. Every single time he tells me the same thing—just rest. I wonder if he's a real doctor or a quack."
Muttering under his breath, Lennox closed the lid of the dust-filled container and flung it aside.
"It's trash, so you won't mind me throwing it away, will you?"
Normally, one would ask for permission before acting—but his expression didn't change in the slightest.
Estelle was about to protest when—
"…!"
He suddenly caught her hand, almost snatching it, and pulled her along.
"Take your medicine."
It was Lennox who held her hand.
Not Estelle reaching for him—he was the one who touched her first.
While Estelle sat stunned at that fact alone, Lennox steadily guided her to sit on the bed, handing her medicine and a glass of water.
"W-wait a moment."
"What is it? Don't tell me you're suddenly feeling miraculously healthy?"
"No, it's not that. It's just… you just touched me."
"That's right."
Responding as if it were nothing, Lennox even placed his hand on her forehead.
"It's still hot, but at least better than last night."
It was one shock after another.
Estelle, half-afraid her head might have been chopped off without her noticing, nervously touched her neck and cautiously spoke.
"Are you… all right?"
"What about?"
Lennox replied, his eyes saying, Why are you the one asking me that question? Shouldn't it be the other way around?
"I—I'm dirty."
She was drenched in cold sweat, strands of hair stuck to her forehead, and she hadn't even managed to wash after just waking up.
By Lennox's standards, this was the worst of the worst.
Normally, even brushing against her would have made his skin crawl.
But he only answered indifferently.
"Then wash later."
"No, I'm telling you I'm dirty!"
Frustrated, Estelle raised her voice.
"Your Grace, you just touched a filthy woman!"
"Why do you have to put it so harshly? Illness or not, you shouldn't belittle yourself like that."
…Was she dreaming right now?
While Estelle sat gaping in disbelief, Lennox let out a small, amused chuckle.
"There were times you were in far worse condition than this, yet you clung to me without caring whether you touched me or not. You're making too much fuss now."
"…!"
"You used me like a wet towel—then, once I was of no use, you tossed me aside. Have you forgotten all of that?"
If only she could forget everything.
She remembered someone lending her a cold hand.
She had thought it was just a dream—but no, it had been real. And that hand had belonged to Lennox.
"Back then… I was too sick to even know who it was."
"I thought as much."
Estelle turned her head slightly away and swallowed the medicine.
"Why did you intervene?"
After a short silence, Lennox asked again.
"In front of that monster—you could have died."
Estelle had her own reasons for stepping forward.
But from Lennox's point of view, without knowing them, it must have looked reckless.
She had to give an explanation—something he could accept.
"Because… Your Grace doesn't cherish Duren, does he?"
Cough, cough.
Estelle let out a small fit of coughing before continuing.
"So I thought… at the very least, I should protect him."
"..."
"That's all there is to it."
"You mean to say—you would risk your life for someone you cherish?"
"…Not that recklessly."
"No. You were reckless enough."
Estelle averted her gaze.
With no excuse to offer, she could only fall silent.
The room sank into quiet.
Lennox watched Estelle, still wracked with coughing, and thought to himself.
She was right—he didn't cherish Duren.
But at the very least, I would have secured his safety as my ward.
If he had only met Estelle once or twice, he surely would have said it outright:
Don't meddle needlessly.
Yet Lennox neither defended himself nor excused it as his way of raising the boy.
Instead—
"If something similar happens again, I'll make sure there's no need for you to step in."
He chose to accept Estelle… and to change himself.
He had already experienced firsthand what his stubborn decisions could lead to, and so he resolved not to fall into obstinacy again.
Even if Estelle looked at him with eyes full of disbelief.
Under the weight of her mistrustful gaze, Lennox chose to revoke his own past words and made a new resolve to change, little by little.
"From now on, live in the main residence."
The thought that she had dragged her sick body all the way to the annex just because of one of his orders kept gnawing at him.
Estelle would surely prefer staying in the main residence—it must be uncomfortable for her here.
Or so he thought—
"No."
Estelle shook her head.
"I don't mind staying here until the divorce."
"Until the divorce, is it."
Was she merely refusing out of courtesy, so as not to seem too eager, knowing he might have been waiting for her agreement?
But unlike his assumption, Estelle's tone was firm.
"The medicine's kicking in, so I'd like to sleep now. Could you leave?"
She even went so far as to issue a dismissal order.
Watching her lie down on the bed without another word, Lennox left the annex without a sound.
It was all his own karma.
Stained glass of many colors caught the warm noon sunlight, casting a kaleidoscope of hues across the interior.
Before the great statue of the god, a blond man praying in reverent silence slowly opened his eyes.
"Repeat what you just said."
"Well…"
The elderly priest standing behind him, sensing the man's displeasure, hesitated before answering.
"They say the Duke of Winteren still has not divorced."
"Are you certain his spouse is Estelle Bellonsa? Could it be someone else with the same name, and the rumor simply mistaken?"
"No, it is her. That Estelle, without a doubt."
"To think he has lived with her not just for a few days, but for two whole months."
Murmuring as though he could hardly believe it, the blond man rose to his feet.
"Lord Helios."
Helios Kreutzen.
He was Estelle's fourth husband—the only one still alive.
A man who, due to claims of sexual incapacity, had been divorced without even spending a wedding night.
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