Chapter 4-2

Three months ago.

Jane first met her unimpressive fiancé under circumstances that were anything but pleasant.

“Miss, I believe this is something you should hear.”

Glen, her lawyer, delivered the news with a troubled expression.

A man claiming to be the grandson of her late grandfather’s close friend had requested a meeting with her—bearing documents in hand.

Publicly, the heiress of the Shirley family did not meet with anyone. So Glen, acting as her proxy and legal counsel, reviewed the papers instead.

And what did he find?

An absurd document from their grandfathers’ generation proposing that their children—or grandchildren—be married, complete with a token of proof.

The seal was undeniably her grandfather’s.

Legally, the document meant nothing. It could have been ignored outright.

But due to certain peculiar imperial laws, Jane needed an heir immediately. So she decided to meet the man at least once.

Besides, Ruelne kept intruding into her thoughts, and she felt an inexplicable restlessness because of it. If she bound herself in an engagement, perhaps she’d finally stop thinking of him.

And so.

“So you’re the heiress of the Shirley family! My, you’re breathtaking…!”

To her astonishment, the man—Marcus Caroman—recognized her instantly, even though she’d attended disguised as a newly hired secretary.

Her grandfather had once proudly sent a portrait of his granddaughter to his friend.

Of course, he could never have known that just a few years later, Jane would be left entirely alone, her entire family dead.

As a result, the identity she had managed to keep hidden for nearly ten years was exposed for the first time. Fortunately, the man had foolishly brought the original portrait with him.

He presented it proudly as proof.

After confirming it was authentic, Jane burned it in front of him.

She had a choice.

Drive the man away and use money to suppress whatever rumors he spread—or honor the promise her shortsighted grandfather had made.

At that moment, Ruelne surfaced in her mind.

Stubbornly, Jane gripped the document.

“Fine. Let’s get engaged. Draw up the paperwork immediately.”

“Pardon? Ah—yes…!”

He was transparently greedy. He showed no genuine interest in her, and his ingrained flattery made him look easy to control. Perhaps, she thought naively, this could be a simple solution to her troublesome succession issue.

Afterward, Jane had Glen investigate him and confirm there were no copies of the portrait. A full personal dossier was compiled.

She’d had a bad feeling—and rightly so. Marcus Caroman was riddled with weaknesses. Enough grounds to annul the engagement several times over.

Jane simply collected them quietly.

Ironically, after the engagement became official on paper, Marcus grew even more brazen, adding to his list of faults with remarkable diligence.

“Ugh. Camilla’s the one who drank—so why is my head pounding…?”

The morning after Camilla’s drunken antics, Jane rose with a headache.

Not long after, a maid delivered a letter.

From Ruelne.

It must have been about a year after Ruelne regained his sight.

He had asked, by letter, if he might speak to her more casually. His letters had begun arriving less frequently around that time, and Jane had felt a creeping anxiety.

So she’d accepted immediately—something she would normally have refused. The informal tone, awkward at first, gradually became natural.

‘It’s obvious why his letters became less frequent.’

His world must have widened after he regained his sight. That was what she’d wanted for him. A world of vibrant colors, beautiful skies, people praising him, nobles and power brokers calling for him from every direction. It would only be a matter of time before he reclaimed his status. And if not, she would make it so.

As long as she stood behind him, Ruelne would never again have to contemplate degrading temptations.

That alone should have been enough.

So why did it taste so bitter?

Gradually, the letters grew more businesslike.

And yet, Jane would reread even the most formulaic greeting over and over, drawn to it.

‘My most precious lady… So I matter to Ruelne too.’

She’d let herself think such things.

Then, starting this year, his letters changed.

As if whispering that he longed for her as though she stood right before him.

As the letter continued, Jane’s expression slowly sank, settling into something heavy and subdued.

For the first time, he asked her to visit his school. When she declined after much deliberation, he asked again. He had never done that before.

Could someone plead so earnestly with a person whose name and identity they didn’t even know?

Or was Ruelne merely being polite—and she seeing only what she wished to see?

Jane let out a quiet sigh.

It had been three years now. Three years of suffering from this condition—of Ruelne surfacing in her mind no matter what she did, no matter what she saw.

It was time to cut it off.

“Why not? He’s at that age. It wouldn’t be strange to date dozens of times. If he’d remained a proper noble, he’d already be engaged—married, even.”

Over the course of three years after regaining his sight, Ruelne had returned to being a proper noble. She was proud of him for accomplishing it on his own—and at the same time, wistful, as though he were walking somewhere her help no longer reached.

Soon enough, he would have a lover. Or a fiancée.

Only after listening to Camilla last night did it truly strike her.

He was at that age.

In truth, even without Camilla’s words, she had already been preparing herself.

A recent letter she’d sent him. The postscript referred to her engagement.

For six years, they had filled their letters with the small details of their daily lives. Adding her engagement to that list shouldn’t have been strange.

She’d meant to include it in the previous letter, but for some reason her hand wouldn’t move. So she’d tacked it on as a postscript instead.

Jane bit her lip and picked up her pen.

‘No matter how I think about it, I’m certain I can’t truly like anyone.’

Her fiancé might be pathetic, but how could she feel so little attachment? And had she ever once felt her heart flutter for any man? The only person who came to mind was Ruelne—whom she thought of as family. Lately, she’d even begun harboring irreverent thoughts about him.

It was better to sever it herself.

In reality, it hadn’t been formal at all—merely an old promise without legal weight.

But Jane wanted it to appear respectable. Ruelne would soon enter high noble society. She didn’t want to seem like an inadequate patron in the slightest.

Hurt?

It was laughable.

‘Why would my engagement hurt Ruelne?’

In truth, it was her own heart she was thinking of. If Ruelne were to get engaged without telling her—

A sharp throb.

It would wound her deeply.

Because she regarded him as family. That had to be it.

Once she finished, Jane found she couldn’t bear to reread what she’d written. She folded it at once, sealed it, and sent it off.

Faster than usual. Almost hurriedly.

Who could have known—

“Jane! Jane!”

“…Camilla? What about your work?”

“That’s not important right now!”

—that only a day after sending that letter, her engagement would be broken.

The cause was absurd—and devastating.

“…What? Pregnant?”

Her fiancé, Marcus Caroman, had gotten a noble lady pregnant…!

The problem was—there wasn’t just one.

“…Am I reading a gossip novel?”

“Amazingly, it’s true. Miss Bianca and Mr. Glen are on their way too! Let’s draft the paperwork immediately.”

He had impregnated two noblewomen.

And one of them was married.

Jane’s mouth fell open. She’d thought inviting her to a masquerade was disgraceful enough, but this man had truly plumbed the depths.

At this point, the engagement was over. No matter how useful a greedy man might be, there was no reason for Jane to shoulder this level of risk.

Soon, her secretary Bianca arrived. Then Glen, her lawyer.

Finally, the cause of the annulment himself—her fiancé.

There was none of his usual polish. Stubble shadowed his face, and his clothes hung askew, as though someone had grabbed him by the collar not long ago.

‘So the two women stormed his house, just like I heard.’

She only knew because she’d had someone tail him—originally to document his worsening misconduct. She hadn’t expected to uncover something like this.

“You can probably guess why I called you. Let’s annul the engagement.”

“…Pardon?”

Marcus blinked stupidly, as though he still didn’t grasp his own fault. The dazed look lasted only a moment before he widened his eyes and forced an awkward smile.

“Haha, what do you mean all of a sudden—”

“What do I mean? An engaged man with two pregnant women showing up at his home is nothing short of horrifying. Surely you have enough conscience not to suggest we continue?”

“H-How did you—? Don’t tell me you had someone following me!”

He flared up in outrage.

Jane let out a cold scoff. Just how much had he underestimated her? Had he thought knowing her identity gave him leverage? Well—she had allowed him to think that, to some extent.

“Considering rumors of you living at masquerades reach even someone like me, who rarely leaves home, and you had the audacity to invite your fiancée to the most vulgar one of all—what exactly was I supposed to trust?”

“That’s—”

“Enough. Sign. I’ve already prepared the documents for you.”

He exploded upon seeing the annulment papers, drafted before his arrival. He ranted that following him was a crime, that everything was a misunderstanding and could be resolved.

None of it mattered.

When Jane remained unmoved, Marcus, growing desperate, spat out the threat he’d been holding back.

“You think you’ll walk away from this unscathed? You’re afraid of your identity becoming public, aren’t you?!”

She’d expected that.

“Go ahead. Spread whatever rumors you like. There are already more than ten tabloids a day printing stories about me without evidence.”

Marcus froze.

The portrait…! He’d handed it to her during their first meeting. Only now did the fool realize he’d surrendered his most valuable proof with his own hands.

“And I hear one of the women who visited you was the Countess of Macmillan? Her husband is notoriously jealous… perhaps you hadn’t heard.”

Marcus’s eyes widened.

“He’s quite famous for beheading one of her former lovers. It was ruled a lawful duel, of course. The count faced no punishment.”

The color drained from his face.

“The fact that your head is still attached suggests the countess hasn’t told him. Nor does she seem inclined to. But I’m different, aren’t I? Whether I inform the count—or quietly annul this engagement—depends entirely on you, Marcus Caroman.”

Marcus, trembling all over, finally stamped his seal on the agreement to dissolve the engagement and turned away.

And so Jane’s first engagement—brief as it was—came to an end.

‘Haah… I’m exhausted…….’

It hadn’t been an engagement she’d entered with any real expectation, but this wasn’t the ending she’d wanted.

Watching herself end it so calmly, watching the lawyer smoothly threaten Marcus as he retreated, Jane realized just how composed she was.

At the same time, she understood—and admitted it.

Her engagement had been nothing more than an escape.

After dismissing everyone, Jane covered her face with both hands.

‘……I miss Ruelne.’

A face that had lingered beneath her eyelids for so long, never once fading.

She wanted to see him so desperately.

When Jane slowly opened her eyes, she noticed a familiar envelope on her desk. It was Camilla’s invitation to this year’s business presentation. The date was today—this afternoon. She remembered promising, over drinks, that she would definitely attend. And despite how busy today must be for Camilla, she had rushed over for Jane’s sake.

“We had the awards ceremony for the essay contest our company sponsored, remember? There were tons of Cademel students there. Your young lord was among them, you know?”

Jane’s eyes opened fully. A different kind of resolve now settled across her face.