Chapter 9

The Northern Grand Duke’s Wife, I Can’t Do This Because It’s Too Cold

To Daven.

“Oh.”

I let out a little exclamation at the letters that appeared naturally beneath my hand.

I thought I could only read this language, but apparently I could write it just as well.

After finishing my day, I returned to my room and prepared a letter for Daven.

I had been a little concerned because we had parted rather hurriedly last time…

And I thought I should at least let him know that I ended up not needing the documents he had prepared for me.

‘Come to think of it, it’s not that I didn’t use them. I couldn’t use them. Mikhail burned them so thoroughly that not even ashes remained.’

Thinking about what had happened made me let out a hollow laugh.

Anyway, Daven had helped me in many ways, including with my younger brother, so I should at least tell him what I planned to do from now on.

I’m Aisha. I’m in the North right now.

I leaned over the desk and concentrated as I scribbled.

Then an unmistakably displeased voice immediately pierced my ears.

“You married the Grand Duke of the North. Of course you’re in the North.”

…

Mikhail was sitting right beside me, holding one of my hands.

‘Why on earth is he reading someone else’s letter?’

His expression was so shamelessly confident that I didn’t even know where to begin criticizing him.

“Could you let go of my hand?”

“No. Your hand is cold.”

That was true, but…

He was using that as an excuse to keep peeking at the letter I was writing.

Ugh.

Because of this meddler, I couldn’t make any progress.

I couldn’t even write what I wanted to say.

I needed to tell Daven that I didn’t think I would be getting divorced, and that my attempt to run away had failed…

I held the quill and trembled for a long while, but in the end, I couldn’t write a single word.

“Mikhail. Go sit across from me.”

“Why?”

“You keep holding my hand, so it’s uncomfortable. And I can’t write a letter when you keep looking over.”

“Then you don’t need to write one.”

Mikhail took the opportunity to try to persuade me.

Honestly.

What was he so unhappy about?

I kept pushing him away by the back until Mikhail reluctantly moved to the other side.

His expression looked even more sour than before, though…

‘He’s not sulking again, is he?’

Ah, whatever.

That wasn’t important right now.

I should get to the point.

I placed the quill back against the paper.

“I don’t understand why you’re writing a letter to that man.”

Just when I thought he had finally become quiet, Mikhail spoke again after less than a few minutes.

I continued moving my hand and answered casually.

“I’m just checking in. Telling him that I’m doing well.”

“There’s no need to tell him that. Of course I’m treating you well.”

My hand stopped, and I slowly glanced up at him.

‘Why does his lack of affection seem to be getting worse? I haven’t even done anything. This is a problem. If this keeps up, he’ll eventually become so obsessed that he’ll do something to Mabel…’

I shook my head and continued writing.

Future heroine, I am innocent.

As I diligently moved the quill, I eventually noticed that Mikhail had gone quiet.

He was sitting with his legs crossed, his eyes calmly closed.

‘…It’s actually more awkward now that he’s suddenly quiet.’

I had never been good at enduring this kind of atmosphere.

In the end, I kept writing while casually asking him a question.

“Um, why do you dislike Daven so much?”

I really had been curious about this.

Could it really be because he was simply from the South?

Even so, there was hardly another character as kind as him.

He smiled warmly at everyone and was always considerate.

He didn’t even hate the Crown Prince who had driven him away.

That couldn’t have been easy.

“First of all, I don’t like his face.”

“What?!”

I raised my voice without realizing it.

‘Gasp! My old instinct to defend my favorite character just came out!’

Mikhail glared at me with narrowed eyes before continuing.

“Just imagining those eyes, nose, and mouth makes me feel like I’m going to sweat from the heat.”

That was true.

It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say his character design was the textbook definition of a sunny male lead.

He certainly suited the Grand Duke of the South.

…Anyway, his conclusion was that he disliked Daven because his face looked warm?

Just when I was beginning to feel utterly dumbfounded, Mikhail spoke again.

“Actually, there’s something else I dislike most about him.”

“What is it?”

Mikhail moved his lips a few times before finally closing them.

What was that about?

Did he not want to tell me?

“Well, don’t hate him too much. He’s my friend.”

I didn’t know exactly how much Daven had helped me while I was in the South, but there were already plenty of things I was grateful to him for.

“…You seem quite fond of him.”

I had said it without much thought, but Mikhail smirked and pulled himself closer.

“I knew it. No wonder that man suddenly came to see my wife without even sending word.”

“Uh… When did you know?”

“Why? You almost sound like you were hoping I didn’t know.”

“Ah, no!”

I slowly leaned away from Mikhail’s face as it continued drawing closer.

In the end, I couldn’t even finish writing the letter.

I had to spend quite some time arguing back and forth with him instead.

Through the crack of an open door, the noisy room of the Grand Duke and his wife could be seen.

One person watched the bickering couple with an expressionless face before turning away and stepping several paces back.

—They seem to be getting along quite well. I didn’t expect that.

A man’s voice sounded in his left ear.

The person hiding behind the door drew a faint light from his fingertips and brought it to his ear, concentrating on the voice.

—I heard they were awkward with each other when they first got married. Was that wrong?

“That is correct.”

A low chuckle came through the light in his ear, as though the man found the situation amusing.

—Did you take good care of the Baron?

“Yes. Since the Grand Duke was keeping an eye on him, I secretly knocked him unconscious and put him on a carriage headed for the South.”

—Good. It would be a waste to use such a useful card only once and throw it away. We may have another opportunity to use him, don’t you think?

There was no answer.

The man merely stared into empty space with an indifferent expression.

—Anyway, good work. I’ll contact you again soon.

The voice on the other end suddenly cut off, and the faint light around his ear gradually disappeared.

Only then did he begin walking away.

“Your Grace, a letter has arrived from the North.”

“What?”

“It’s probably just another invitation, right? I’ll throw it away.”

Daven grabbed the Baron, who was about to throw down the newspaper he had been reading and leave the office.

The Baron, whose arm had suddenly been seized tightly, was utterly bewildered.

“Why are you doing this? You always throw away invitations from the North.”

That was true.

The southern and northern nobles had a customary practice of sending invitations to one another out of courtesy, but neither side usually attended.

The distance between them was one reason, but there were also so many differences between the two regions that they had difficulty understanding one another.

As a result, Daven had developed a habit of refusing almost every invitation from the North.

Of course, given his personality, he didn’t have the heart to coldly throw the invitations away himself.

So the Baron, one of the servants closest to him, had tacitly taken care of throwing them away instead.

It was a convenient way for Daven to convince himself that he hadn’t thrown the invitation away himself.

In its own way, it was a task performed for the sake of his master’s conscience.

The Baron was about to silently dispose of this invitation as well, but then he remembered how Daven had seemed somewhat uneasy after returning from the North recently.

So, just in case, he had brought the letter to ask for permission.

As it happened, Daven had been waiting for a letter whose arrival was uncertain.

Without realizing it, hope began to rise within him.

“Why are you so nervous? Here’s the letter.”

He slowly opened the letter handed to him by the Baron.

There was no seal on it, which suggested that it had been sent secretly.

Daven forced himself to calm his pounding heart as he opened the letter and read the very first line.

To Daven. I’m Aisha.

Daven’s expression softened instantly.

The letter he had been waiting for had finally arrived.

He didn’t even think to sit down somewhere.

He simply stood there and began reading the entire letter.

‘Anyone could tell who this is from.’

The Baron thought to himself.

After serving the Grand Duke for many years, he had learned that his master was surprisingly expressive when it came to his emotions.

The Baron guessed that the person who had written this letter must be someone who had been friends with the Grand Duke for a long time.

Meanwhile, Daven’s expression gradually became more serious.

Just as he had hoped, Aisha had intended to leave Mikhail.

But she had failed to escape.

And now, she had apparently given up on the idea of divorce altogether.

Daven was stunned.

Why wasn’t she trying to leave again?

Had she really come to like the North?

Or perhaps Mikhail had…

Mikhail has been taking very good care of me. It’s still cold, but I’m slowly getting used to it. I think I might even be able to go out into the city soon. Apparently, there’s an ice festival in the North. Isn’t that fascinating? We’ve decided to go together soon.

Daven continued reading with eyes that could no longer smile.

You helped me so much, but it seems it all ended up being for nothing. Thank you, and I’m sorry. Take care, my dear friend.

The final sentence was written in neat, careful handwriting right to the very end.

For some reason, that made his heart ache even more.

“……”

He looked terrible.

The Baron cautiously watched him before picking up the newspaper Daven had thrown aside earlier.

“Baron.”

“Yes?”

“When is our flower festival again?”

“The flower festival? That’s still quite a while away. About two months.”

“Two months…”

Daven’s complexion became even worse than before.

The Baron watched his master bury his face in the letter in despair, completely unable to understand what was happening.

‘…What’s wrong with him?’

He couldn’t bring himself to say it aloud.

All he could do was mutter quietly to himself.