13.
She didn’t even harbor the obvious questions: Why did Father and Max leave those reporters be?
At the time, she was merely trembling with the fear that Max had discovered her disgusting true self.
Back then, she should have questioned it.
How did ‘Le Xixe Siecle’ obtain information about those women?
Why did Duke Blanc not move to protect the honor of his only heir to the title?
And why, for that matter, did she feel no dissatisfaction with such a father?
She didn’t know it then, but she knows now. Freya said, her eyes sunken and dim as she watched the gas-lit night streets.
“Milla, we might end up spending this summer at Blanc Castle.”
“…Yes, Madam.”
As if following Freya’s lead, Milla’s expression darkened. It went without saying that neither of them had particularly fond memories of that place.
Perhaps it was the forced march of visiting four locations in a single day, but Freya’s eyes blinked slowly before they finally shut completely.
On the precarious edge of sleep, Milla’s murmuring reached her.
“Madam, I like the way you are now.”
Even though Freya didn’t respond, Milla continued in a hushed whisper.
“I hope you do whatever you want, just like you are doing now, without worrying about what others say.”
At the words of a girl who would never leave or betray her, no matter how many lives she lived or what state she was in, the corners of Freya’s mouth relaxed of their own accord.
“That’s why I hope you won’t have to suffer anymore, Madam.”
“I hope so too, Milla.”
I hope I don’t have to suffer anymore, either.
It had been a long day. With that final thought, Freya’s consciousness sank into the darkness.
✦ ✦ ✦
“Madam.”
Freya opened her eyes at the sensation of someone gently gripping and shaking her shoulder. The carriage had come to a stop.
The mansion, lit up and bright, was silent and peaceful.
Suddenly, her first twenty-two years—spent being swept away by circumstances without knowing a thing—came to mind.
Having heard the divorce declaration for the first time, she had been a madwoman in the truest sense.
Around that time, not even a week after the announcement, the sound of objects being smashed and shattered had rung through the mansion day after day. Freya’s bedroom, littered with shredded fabric, jagged splinters of furniture, and the remnants of broken ornaments, had looked like the quarters of an aristocrat raided during the revolution.
It was so severe that even Mathilde, who had once tried to intervene, had been horrified and fled to the room farthest from Freya’s chambers.
‘Though I couldn’t do that now even if someone asked me to.’
A dry chuckle escaped her. Feeling that she had changed quite a bit, Freya’s footsteps grew a little lighter.
But they say one shouldn’t let their guard down.
The moment she crossed the threshold of the mansion’s gate, a woman’s sharp voice pierced the air.
“Max, it’s the truth. Son, have I ever meddled in your married life until now? Do you know how desperate I must be to do this? That girl is truly insane!”
At the top of the stairs leading to the second floor, Max and Mathilde were raising their voices.
It seemed that today’s events were not over just yet. When Freya silently signaled to Milla, who was standing by her side, the maid nodded and vanished.
“Madam has returned.”
When the butler announced Freya’s arrival, the two people standing face-to-face turned to her simultaneously.
“Let’s continue this conversation later.”
Mathilde, having met Freya’s eyes, flinched, muttered something to Max, and made a quick exit.
Freya followed Mathilde’s retreating figure with a detached gaze. It had been quiet for a few days, and she couldn’t even wait that long…
“Don’t pay any mind to Mother.”
It was only then, at the voice from beside her, that Freya turned her gaze toward Max.
“It’s not something worth your concern.”
“I understand.”
Freya nodded, as if emphasizing her agreement. She didn’t mention that Mathilde was trying to commit her to an asylum, but Freya didn’t care.
No matter how much Mathilde tried to deceive him, Max wouldn’t listen. At least, not as long as Freya didn’t say something truly insane, like, “I died because of you and followed you to your death, so I’ve returned from the past.”
Freya shifted the subject naturally.
“I didn’t think you’d come today. What brings you here?”
At Freya’s question, Max tilted his head at an angle. Did he not know that it was he who had ordered the surveillance, or was he pretending not to?
“There’s something I wanted to confirm.”
“Is that so?”
With an indifferent attitude, Freya walked past Max and opened her bedroom door.
“I’m a bit tired today, so I’d like to hear it while I prepare for bed. Would you like to come in?”
Ordinarily, this was a suggestion he would have grimaced at before fleeing. However, Max stared at Freya for a moment before obediently entering her bedroom.
“So, what is it you came to confirm?”
Though they had never spent a night together, Freya—who had a history of trying to ravage her husband while he was bare—began to undress as if it were nothing. Max looked away as he answered.
“I heard you claimed the article’s contents were false.”
At his blunt, direct statement—without even trying to test her—the line of Freya’s mouth softened.
She liked this side of him.
Before their relationship had deteriorated beyond repair, Max would occasionally do this: show his true feelings without any pretense or flowery language.
When she heard him speak so rawly—a man who, at some point, had only shown her a polished, refined facade—Freya often felt as if Max were making a silent demand, as if saying, ‘I have nothing to hide from you, so you must not hide anything from me either.’
At such times, she would be reminded of her young prince who, long ago, would casually break into the space where she was hiding and reach out his hand recklessly. Freya’s heart would swell with an emotion she couldn’t distinguish as a sob or a laugh.
Though she hadn’t expected to hear such a bold confession that he had put people on her tail, Freya suppressed a cynical laugh and answered in a calm voice.
“To be precise, I said there were parts that were not true.”
At Freya’s words, Max turned his head involuntarily.
At the same time, the sound of a white nightgown brushing against her milky skin, hidden beneath the pitch-black dress, tickled his ears.
Following her delicate ankles, which looked as if they could be grasped in one hand, the thin fabric clung to her skin, which appeared as clear and lustrous as if it were holding moisture.
His gaze, which had been traveling up along her flowing legs, the curve of her hips, and the slender yet voluptuous lines that followed, hesitated for a moment before belatedly returning to its place.
Freya, as if she didn’t care about his gaze, straightened her clothes, sat at her vanity, and continued.
“I suspected you of having an affair, so I hired someone to look into the women you met. And I went to find those women. That is true. But the claim that I threatened them and tried to kidnap Madam Rossignol is false. Whether you believe that or not is your choice.”
“…Why didn’t you say so back then?”
“I wanted to. But you were so furious at the time.”
The day the article came out was the first time she had seen Max truly angry. Without raising his voice even once, Max had warned her in a voice as cold as ice not to touch him or those around him ever again.
Perhaps that was the first time she realized that, to Max, she was nothing more than a complete stranger…
That was why she couldn’t say it. Freya added with a bitter smile.
“I was afraid you wouldn’t believe me, and even if you did, you would still despise me.”
Max said nothing. But as he rarely opened his mouth in front of her anyway, Freya didn’t pay it much mind and asked.
“Is that all you wanted to confirm?”
No answer came. Only then, feeling a sense of unease, did Freya turn to look at him. Max was staring at her as if he wanted to say something, but in the end, no words escaped his lips.
“…I had something to say, too.”
Freya, who had been gazing into those deep blue eyes in the silence, finally spoke first.
“I’d like to start working from next Monday. Would that be alright?”
“I trust you realize that’s in two days?”
Freya shrugged. Max opened his mouth again, as if asking her to reconsider.
“In my opinion, it would be best for you to learn the bare minimum common sense required for management first.”
“I haven’t learned about management, but I’m a fast learner. Don’t worry, Monsieur Partner.”
Her playful response only heightened Max’s wariness.
“Is there a particular reason you’re in such a hurry to start working?”
She could see suspicion dawning in Max’s eyes, but it couldn’t be helped. Just as he said—she had a reason why she had to start working in a hurry.