CHAPTER 06
Victor knew he had a talent for making people despise him.
He had known it since he was so young that he could no longer remember his own age. Perhaps, while he was still growing in her womb, his mother had whispered to him,
“My beloved child… please don’t be born.”
After Marina finally fell asleep, Victor carried her to her bedroom himself instead of leaving her to the attendants.
When he returned, blood from the scratches on his neck had soaked through his white shirt. The Dumpelt family’s physician hurried over and quickly treated the wounds.
Meanwhile, Blight handled the reporters in Victor’s place.
“As you can see, our young master wishes to become a member of the royal family out of filial devotion. Duchess Marina has tried to strangle him and kill him countless times, yet he still strives to fulfill his mother’s lifelong dream.”
The reporters obtained what they wanted and immediately scattered, each racing to publish an extra edition before the others.
Victor walked through the rain and climbed into the carriage.
Blight returned after finishing the interviews and set the carriage in motion.
On the way back to the estate, he asked worriedly,
“Did the doctor treat your injuries properly, sir?”
“I should have chosen the monastery Scarlett was sent to myself.”
“…Pardon?”
“This place is far too comfortable.”
As he spoke, he pulled a cigarette from his inner pocket.
Blight lit it for him with a lighter.
“I don’t know much about Melin Monastery.”
“My father must have connections there.”
After a brief silence, Blight cautiously continued,
“By the way… Madam hasn’t sent any letters since last week. She used to write every three or four days.”
He wanted to suggest that Victor visit her but lacked the courage to say it outright.
Unexpectedly, Victor answered.
“I’m already dealing with enough trouble because of Scarlett.”
Even among his subordinates, Victor had kept his mother’s condition a secret.
Now the entire nation knew.
Anyone could understand why his anger toward Scarlett had not easily faded.
Still, no one had expected it to last this long.
No one dared ask why he remained so furious.
After hesitating for a while, Blight spoke again.
“Please don’t be too angry when you hear this, sir.”
Victor exhaled smoke through the carriage window and looked at him.
“What is it?”
“Madam… has been very ill. She developed a high fever, so she moved to the villa last week.”
Victor frowned.
“Why would I be angry?”
“She… left the monastery on her own…”
“Scarlett was the one who said she’d stay there for a hundred days. If she wants to leave, let her leave.”
“…Was that really the arrangement?”
Blight looked genuinely surprised.
Everyone except Victor had assumed Scarlett had no say whatsoever about entering or leaving the monastery.
Scarlett herself had probably believed the same.
Victor asked,
“She’s sick?”
“They say her fever is very high.”
Scarlett had always been frail.
Victor knew she barely ate and had very few foods she actually liked.
Hearing that she was ill caused his expression to darken.
“Then why did she go to the villa?”
“…Sir?”
“If she’s sick, she should come home.”
“…Ah! You’re absolutely right.”
Blight brightened immediately.
“I’ll send someone to bring Madam back from the villa at once.”
“Bring her here immediately.”
Salantier Fever was a terrifying illness for people with weak constitutions.
Victor’s expression remained grim.
Apparently forgetting about the cigarette in his hand, he allowed ash to fall onto the carriage floor, making the obsessively tidy Blight visibly uncomfortable.
Scarlett had not even completed two full months at the monastery before she was struck by a severe fever.
Sleeping on a stone floor with nothing but a thin blanket and being forced each day to invent sins to confess to Father Delphio gradually broke both her body and spirit.
She looked as though she might die before Gregory could even force her to sign the divorce papers.
Pale with panic, Father Delphio hurriedly sent her away from the monastery.
She was taken by carriage to the Dumpelt family’s nearby villa.
Even there, Scarlett was so weak she could barely move her head.
The previous night her fever had become dangerously high.
She vaguely remembered overhearing the doctor say that tonight might determine whether she lived or died.
Yet when she opened her eyes again…
she realized she had survived after all.
Perhaps she was tougher than she’d thought.
Or perhaps the Dumpelt family’s physician was simply that skilled.
The moment Gregory Dumpelt saw her awake, he hurried over.
Turning to his secretary, he ordered,
“Help Scarlett sit up and put a pen in her hand.”
Breathing heavily, Scarlett was forced upright by the secretary.
She silently watched him place a pen into her trembling fingers.
Gregory held out a document.
“It’s a confidentiality agreement.”
…
“I’ll give you the money you asked for.”
Scarlett stared blankly at the papers.
Gregory continued,
“This amount will be enough for both you and your brother to live comfortably for the rest of your lives.”
Her vision remained blurry, but her fever had subsided enough that she could roughly understand what was written.
When she simply continued staring at it, Gregory urged impatiently,
“Hurry. Sign it.”
Scarlett gazed at the contract for a long moment.
Then, with hands so thin they had become almost skeletal during her stay at the monastery, she signed her name.
Next, she picked up a sheet of stationery bearing the Dumpelt family crest and carefully copied the letter attached as a condition of the agreement.
The doctor says my illness is contagious. I don’t want to make you sick, so I’ll stay at the villa. I’ll see you next month, my love.
After writing the last words, all her strength left her.
She slowly collapsed back onto the bed.
Half-lidded eyes watched Gregory place the documents into an envelope.
Then Scarlett spoke weakly.
“…Please give me the divorce papers too.”
Gregory’s anxious face immediately lit up.
“Y-You mean it?”
Scarlett simply closed her eyes.
Gregory kept asking over and over whether she was serious.
When medical treatment finally brought her back to consciousness later…
the divorce papers were already lying beside her pillow.
Scarlett considered catching Salantier Fever to be an incredible stroke of luck.
Gregory, who had initially intended to throw her out without giving her a single coin, probably felt quite differently.
Forced to let her recover at the villa, he ended up providing her with the finest medical care and the best food in all of Salantier for an entire month.
Little by little, Scarlett’s fever disappeared.
As soon as her health began improving, she devoted herself to repairing Polly’s broken clock—the one Candace had brought from the kitchen maid.
Whenever sadness threatened to overwhelm her, concentrating on this miraculous new talent lifted her spirits.
Carefully polishing the gears, she fitted the final piece into place.
Tick…
The clock began running again.
Just then, someone knocked on the open door.
Looking up, Scarlett saw the estate’s financial manager, Andrei Hamilton.
“My lady, could you check these receipts?”
“Of course. Come in.”
A very tall, extremely thin young man entered.
His slicked-back hair made him appear almost as tall as Victor.
Since marrying, Scarlett had personally selected Victor’s belongings.
Whenever she couldn’t find something she liked, she even altered items herself.
Looking over a list of flower vases intended for Victor’s office in spring, she neatly wrote a note beside it.
“On my husband’s birthday, make sure there are roses of every color…”
She looked up and smiled.
“I used to search for four-leaf clovers and leave one on his books every birthday.”
“You really went that far?”
“I thought… maybe it would touch him.”
“Wouldn’t the person who found the four-leaf clover be the one most touched? You should’ve been satisfied with finding it.”
At Andrei’s blunt remark, Scarlett glared at him for a moment before laughing.
“You’re right. I’ll think of it that way.”
Then Andrei pointed at her notes.
“But why are you writing this down? You always arranged the roses yourself.”
“I’m getting divorced.”
“I see.”
That was all he said.
He seemed utterly uninterested.
After finishing her notes so someone else could take over in her place, Scarlett closed the folder.
Gathering her courage, she asked,
“I rented a storefront on Seventh Street because I want to open a clock shop. But… I know absolutely nothing about running a business. I need some help.”
Andrei let out a disbelieving laugh.
“So you’re trying to recruit an elite manager from a business of this size… to work for a tiny startup with no future?”
“…Yes.”
“I’ll do it.”
“…Huh?”
Scarlett blinked in astonishment.
Holding the documents against his chest, Andrei pointed toward Polly’s repaired clock.
“You fixed that.”
“It was a clock that every other clockmaker had failed to repair.”
For perhaps the first time, genuine excitement appeared on Andrei’s face.
“In that case, tell me the address. I’ll move everything there in advance.”
“Oh! Here!”
Scarlett hurriedly handed him the address she’d already written down.
Andrei tucked the note into his pocket, bowed politely, and left the room.
Scarlett stared after him in disbelief.
“…He’s really doing it?
Just like that?”
