Chapter 59
Once Wilford began, his tongue seemed incapable of stopping.
“Do you even know what happened after your father’s funeral?”
All the merchants who still remained at his side had suddenly turned their backs.
They whispered that they’d heard the truth of his past.
‘The fool made a stupid mistake and killed all his horses, didn’t he? How could we trust the hay he brings after that?’
‘What if my livestock ate it and dropped dead?’
Wilford had protested desperately, but they were adamant.
His fists clenched in rage.
Who on earth had spread such poisonous rumors?
He’d even moved regions precisely to escape the old talk.
It hadn’t taken long to discover the source.
‘You’d best drop Marsha, Viscount. You never loved her anyway, did you? If you keep your mouth shut and quietly step aside, the debts hanging over House Emelide’s will be taken care of.’
That threat had forced him to send Marsha a cruel letter of broken betrothal.
Of course, even without Lucas’s pressure, ending things had already been inevitable.
But if he hadn’t been cornered so viciously, at least he might have said farewell to her face.
“But after you disappeared, things became even worse!”
‘You’re hiding Marsha, aren’t you?’
That man—smiling so gently, so courteously it was infuriating—how deranged his eyes had been.
He had looked like someone who hadn’t eaten or slept for days, a hollow husk of obsession, pressing Wilford again and again.
“For a long while, he hounded me, choking my business until my debts only grew!”
Wilford spat. “How a commoner could have so many connections, I’ll never understand!”
Yes, it was Lucas.
Because of him, Wilford had borrowed, and one debt had spawned another.
Damn it all…
He had no home to return to, nothing left.
Many nights he’d drowned himself in cheap liquor, thinking it would be better simply to drink himself to death.
But then—that devil had appeared again.
‘You know Marsha has vanished from the Duke of Gloria’s lands, don’t you?’
‘Of course I know! Ah—though only because you’ve said it so often. It’s not because I hid her, never that!’
Pale as death, Wilford had waved his hands frantically, but Lucas had only sighed in weary disgust.
‘You must meet the Duke of Gloria.’
‘What?! How am I supposed to meet him!’
‘You can move within the duke’s territory, can’t you? And besides…’
Lucas’s eyes had blazed like steel as he added,
‘You even have a pretext.’
If it had only been another threat, Wilford might have thrown himself down and begged to be killed instead.
But this time, Lucas had whispered a different lure: he would erase every single one of Wilford’s crushing debts.
“So you risked your life for debt money?”
Marsha’s sharp words made Wilford flinch.
He wanted to deny it, but the truth gnawed at him.
Yes—he had staked his life.
The Duke of Gloria could have him executed at any moment for lingering here uninvited.
“I had no choice!” Wilford snapped. “All I had to do was ask the duke a single question about you, and all my debts would vanish. How could I throw that chance away?”
One word to the duke, and his slate would be wiped clean.
What was a little risk to his life in comparison?
…Well, perhaps it was a great deal.
Groaning inwardly, he let his gaze rake over Marsha.
Her hair was cropped short, like the village women here.
She was thinner—clearly she’d suffered.
And yet… even in the dim light, her eyes shone bright, and her lips and nose retained the same delicate beauty as ever.
Of course—such features wouldn’t vanish with a bit of hardship.
But why… Why was that lovely face glaring at him with such contempt?
To Wilford, who remembered only the girl who had always smiled shyly and sweetly at him, this Marsha was something alien—something wrong.
Like snow falling in summer, like sweltering heat in the dead of winter.
Has she really stayed angry all these four years?
If I try to drag her off, she’ll only fight me harder.
Yet if he returned to Lucas with nothing but the words ‘She’s in the duke’s estate’, Lucas would rage.
Why didn’t you bring her to me?
he would demand.
I need to soothe her now, coax her, and take her with me.
Resting one hand at his belt, shrugging as though unconcerned, Wilford let a smirk tug at his mouth.
“Marsha. I understand why you resent me. But as I said before, it was Lucas who cornered me. If not for him, I’d never have treated you so cruelly. You know, don’t you? I did like you. More than a little.”
The words were meant to pacify, but they weren’t entirely lies.
She had been pretty, and though well-born, she’d never flaunted it.
She had always put Wilford’s feelings first, always delighted in pleasing him.
She had been the perfect woman.
Even after losing her family’s power, keeping her at his side would have been a point of pride—if only for a while.
“You must have suffered a lot. I can see it from the way you’ve cut your hair like some peasant woman.”
Closing his eyes with a pained sigh, Wilford shook his head.
“But all that suffering ends now. Come back with me. That man—he would lay down his life for you. He’ll protect you, without question.”
“Idiot.”
“…What?”
His eyes snapped open wide.
“Stupid bastard,” Marsha spat, fists clenched. “Do you even call yourself a man?”
“You—what did you just—”
Wilford’s mouth twitched violently, unable to form words.
“Breaking off the engagement—I can accept that. What else could a beast like you, blinded by money, have chosen?”
“B-beast? Did you just—did you call me a beast?”
Shocked, his once-loose tongue suddenly felt heavy and stiff.
“On second thought, a beast would be better. Even animals remember the hand that feeds them. But you—you couldn’t even offer condolences when my father, who had helped you, passed away.”
“The Count of Emelide never did me any favors!” Wilford exploded, rage breaking free.
Marsha’s shout rose higher, cutting him down.
“Never did you do me any favors? Yes, Father sometimes spoke harshly to you! But was it always like that? Did he scold you when you did well? No! He shouted because you failed, over and over again, repeating the same mistakes!”
Wilford’s face twisted.
For a heartbeat, the furious woman before him blurred with the memory of Marsha in her fine dresses, smiling at him with shy warmth.
‘Wilford, I know. You’re a brave man. You’ll succeed. Someday Father will be proud of you.’
“Tell me honestly. Did you ever truly try? You lived carelessly off my father’s money, played the part of a businessman while squandering everything!”
‘I respect you.’
“You wasted his fortune and thought you could live idly for life, didn’t you?”
Wilford’s pupils shook.
Sweet, innocent Marsha Emeride—many times she had suffocated him with that unwavering faith, forcing him to act the diligent, respectable man he was not.
And yet… at her side, he had sometimes believed it himself.
Believed he was worthy of love, worthy of respect.
But now, the woman who had once seen him that way was stripping all illusions bare.
“Father postponed our marriage again and again because he knew your true self. He was not foolish—he was wise. And I’m grateful. Because of him, even if I lost the Emelide name…”
Her eyes pierced him like blades.
“…I was spared the horror of being trapped with the likes of you for life.”
“Ugh…!”
Wilford trembled, suffocated by shame.
He had thought he could be angered, but never humiliated.
Yet now he was—because the one who had once been his greatest supporter was the one condemning him.
His lips quivered.
“Even if I disappointed you, what fault does Lucas bear? He truly cares for you.”
Marsha gave a short, bitter laugh, one corner of her mouth lifting.
Even now, he grovels, clinging to another man’s name to save himself.
“Whatever Lucas feels, it doesn’t matter. I will never follow you. Not now, not ever, Wilford Rosenny.”
Her voice was firm with restrained fury.
Wilford’s eyes narrowed, sharp as a blade, his stance braced as though he might lunge at her any second.
“Marsha Emelide …”
