Come and Cry at My Funeral - Chapter 275

After immediately having the illegitimate girl’s room changed and ordering that food unfit even for beggars be thrown out, Izar, who would be staying at the estate for a while, found himself thinking about that woman every day.

‘Is that shepherd girl just stupid?’

She had the dowry from House Antares, so there was no reason for her to live so miserably.

He supposed it was possible she simply didn’t know the true value of noble jewelry yet, and thus hadn’t been able to make proper use of it.

Maybe it was hard to spend with Electra and the eyes of House Antares constantly on her.

‘Or perhaps she’s even more cunning than she appears.’

How convenient that she just happened to be outside at the very moment he arrived. Thanks to that, the situation ended up favoring her, didn’t it?

‘In the end, that woman is cunning. Without a doubt.’

He was convinced the woman had been in league from the beginning, a partner in crime who had joined in Izar’s plan in exchange for enjoying a life of luxury as the ‘Duchess’.

So, when he erased her name from the marriage contract, he felt not a shred of guilt.

Yet, somehow, it didn’t sit right with him to think that way.

‘…Then I’ll just watch her for a while, that’s all.’

Of course, it wasn’t as if he was trailing after her everywhere she went.

It was just that, when the timing was right and she happened to come to mind, he’d observe from a distance to see how she acted when she thought she wasn’t being watched.

With her meals changed, even from afar he could see her complexion improving. The servants, who had never even glanced her way when Izar wasn’t around, grudgingly attended to her, and her body, which had been bent from hardship, gradually began to straighten.

Even Electra’s murderous demeanor seemed to have been somewhat subdued by Izar’s shouting.

“Recite everything up to this part today.”

Of course, that was only relative to before.

Electra drilled the woman on the etiquette and knowledge expected of a noble lady in the study.

Sometimes, Izar would stand silently on the second floor, listening as Electra berated the woman to memorize lines of court poetry.

“The Duke has returned, but that changes nothing. If I come back and you miss even a single line… you know what happens, right?”

“…Yes, Elder Madam.”

The woman only nodded meekly under Electra’s threatening tone.

However, as soon as Electra and Head Maid Merope left in a huff, she quietly took out a handkerchief.

‘What is she doing…?’

Izar watched as the woman meticulously scrubbed the spots where the two had sat.

Unable to fight back in any other way, it was as if she stubbornly needed to erase even the faintest traces.

Once she’d finished, the woman acted as if nothing had happened and bowed her head over the towering pile of poetry books.

“…Ahem.”

Izar quickly cleared his throat.

Why had he almost laughed watching that? Was it the trivial but subtle defiance she showed?

‘Come to think of it, she was like that even back in her shepherd days.’

Even when he had watched her as a reckless youth, she’d secretly tap the sheep between the eyes with her staff.

Those sheep were the ducal estate’s property, after all.

He pushed aside his doubts about whether she was stupid and revised his impression of her.

The woman spoke little and was obedient, but had a certain stubborn streak. She knew how to express her feelings when it came to things she disliked.

‘I’ll remember that.’

And whenever he watched her, the headaches that plagued him seemed to ease, even if just a little.

So, the reason he kept observing her was all out of necessity. Nothing more.

***

By their second year of marriage.

Although the Emperor despised him, the Arcturus family was an indispensable pillar of the Empire’s stability.

As Izar’s achievements mounted, the Emperor was forced to reluctantly host a banquet in his honor.

But, as always, the Emperor, intent on slighting Izar, specifically ordered him to ‘bring your wife’.

Thus, when the woman appeared in a stifling dress with her face covered by a veil that reached to her chin, Izar was already at the limit of his patience.

As she cautiously approached, he shot her a sharp side glance and rebuked her.

“Take it off.”

“…Pardon?”

“Take off that bothersome veil.”

“Ah, y-yes.”

Izar understood why Electra insisted on such old-fashioned attire and why she taught it to the woman.

Izar’s own mother had been called a ‘shameless woman’, so the present Duchess was expected to display the opposite. A model of propriety.

To be clear, the reason he ordered her to take off the veil was because he was fed up with such nonsense.

The woman hastily removed the veil from her face. As she lifted it over her head, a small, clear face appeared.

Her delicate face, framed by translucent honey-colored lashes that moved slowly up and down. Perhaps she was wearing makeup; her pale pink lips gleamed smoothly, and her cheeks were tinted as if brushed with peach nectar.

But most of all, her large eyes shone quietly, like verdant foliage reflected on water.

When their eyes met, a searing heat radiated in a circle from deep within Izar’s chest.