DD PROLOGUE

Prologue. The End of a Romance

My love—won through relentless pursuit after falling for him at first sight—was known throughout the Empire. Everyone had heard of us. Our story was the romance of the century…and the most scandalous gossip. A count’s daughter shamelessly following around a duke’s second son—some called it vulgar, others pitied such childish infatuation while still snickering behind their fans.

I didn’t care what they whispered.
A girl newly debuted into society attends a party hosted by a ducal house, sees a handsome, elegant man, and falls in love. Could there be a better story for gossip? And because he was the most eligible bachelor in the Empire, my adoration must have seemed laughable—just a little girl’s foolish crush.

Yet the girl never cowered.
Every time he pushed her away with a polite smile, she smiled brighter. She confessed her love even while his expression twisted with disgust. She clung to him shamelessly—pathetic, foolishly grinning, and unashamed. I threw myself at love with an intensity that shocked everyone.

Thanks to my father, trusted by the Emperor, and my older brother, a prodigy who climbed quickly into high rank, society didn’t dare ostracize me.

Time passed, and my devotion became as routine as sunrise and sunset. Some even found me endearing. And then—almost exactly one year after I confessed—he finally turned toward me.
The Empire’s most desirable man, known for his refined manners and flawless looks, finally saw me.

He smiled at me genuinely.
He treated me sincerely.

And the bachelor who had been the Empire’s greatest prize—

fell for her after one year of relentless love.

The girl became a woman.
The lively, cheerful, impulsive child grew into a calm, composed, rational lady. She became the wife of the man she loved, and bore children who resembled them both.

There was no naïve little girl anymore.
Time had made her an adult. As a duchess, she carried the weight of duty on her shoulders.

Yet in front of him, she was still that same lovesick girl—
the one who would give everything for love.

Only now, she could not be reckless. The woman had elegance and composure. She could calculate gains and losses, smile at those she disliked, and speak sweetly even when her heart was silent.

She worked tirelessly to become a duchess worthy of her title—
poised, noble, untouchable.

Everything changed except for one thing:

She still loved him.

“…You…”

Isilia raised trembling eyes to look at her husband. Her smile was stiff, painfully awkward. Only the title she held kept her conscious—how disgraceful it would be to faint in front of the servants. Even so, after the introduction he just made, even that pride felt paper-thin.

“…You…”

No words came out.

People say that when something unbelievable happens, the mind goes blank. Apparently, it was true.

Seeing his wife speechless, Luyan sighed softly. He took her hand in his—gentle, reassuring. Her rigid body unwound involuntarily at his touch, and Luyan suppressed a laugh at the sight.

Isilia nearly lost her grip on reason.

He can’t be serious…

Her legs trembled. She forced herself to stand, and then—

“Let me introduce you properly.
This is Lady Marillian von Inderik. She will become my concubine.
Marillian—this is my wife, Isilia von Endrianz.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Duchess. Marillian von Inderik. Please, call me Mari.”

The woman tucked her long red hair behind one ear and spoke softly.

Isilia answered with silence.

Inderik.
That was another ducal house—one famed for producing legendary knights, loyal founders of the Empire. Red hair and amber eyes… clearly the mark of that prestigious bloodline.

Was this truly happening?

Her chest ached.
A concubine. He wanted a concubine.

She understood. Some nobles kept secret mistresses or unofficial lovers.
Fine. She could understand that.

In five years of marriage, Isilia and Luyan had never fought—not once. If he harbored dissatisfaction or resentment toward her, and this was how he chose to resolve it, then… perhaps she could accept it.

But her heart hurt anyway.

The tenderness in his eyes when he looked at the other woman stabbed her.
The gentle voice he used made her ears ring.

He introduced the woman openly—in front of servants.
Brazen. Confident.

Isilia understood her place. A duchess—the legal wife—had no right to object.

But still…

Her heart shattered.

So she stood there, dazed, watching as the two walked away.

Do you know?
Do you know why the duchess had called everyone today?
Do you know why the servants were gathered, why the halls were prepared, what tomorrow is?

Do you know?

“….”

Isilia turned away from the direction her husband disappeared.
Servants looked nervously at her reactions.

The young Duchess of Endrianz smiled.

So this is how the romance of the century ends.

With a hollow laugh, she clapped her hands. There was much to do.
Head held high, shoulders squared, she gave orders.

Because tomorrow—on the eve of her beloved daughter’s birthday—

she was introduced to her husband’s mistress.

Morning came as usual.
She visited her children, ate breakfast with them, checked the household. Her husband would return late—he’d been terribly busy lately. It was spring, the busiest season.
Still, she wished he would come home early.

Isilia touched her cheek.
Her heart burned, but her skin was cool.

The girl who once flushed and giggled over every trivial thing had learned how to hide emotions. Her heart pounded loudly in her ears, but her face was serene. She had trained herself—relentlessly—so she could survive in high society, so she could carry the title of Duchess.

The elegant, untouchable Duchess.

How many hardships had she endured to earn that name?

She entered the hall with a quiet smile.
Servants bowed. She looked around—everything prepared for her daughter’s birthday.

Her daughter had been born on the first day of spring.
Blue hair like her father’s. Golden eyes like Isilia’s.

Thinking of the child brought a soft, genuine smile to her lips.
Some servants stared, mesmerized.

Then—her gaze met his.

Isilia froze.

Servants, noticing her stare, turned their eyes toward the entrance.
The Duke was walking toward her—with someone beside him.

“….”

Isilia turned to her children.
Her daughter was greeting the other children—well, technically, her son Johan was doing the greetings on her behalf, holding onto her hand protectively.

The sight made Isilia smile.
Such a reliable little gentleman.

When she lowered her fan, her expression shifted—stern, sharp. The approaching ladies flinched instinctively. Too harsh, she thought, and softened her gaze. Warm golden eyes appeared, and the ladies cautiously stepped closer.

A duchess never reveals her true expression.

The impulsive girl had vanished long ago.
She had given herself up—completely—for him.

She endured suffocating corsets, jewelry that bruised her collarbone, endless etiquette lessons. She poured her soul into becoming the perfect duchess.

Her eyes narrowed slightly.
The chatter around her faltered. A subtle tension spread among the women. One woman finally spoke up.

“D-Duchess Endrianz… His Grace is…?”

Spit it out.
Isilia lifted her gaze. The woman’s dress was garish—almost trying to outshine the hostess. How tasteless.

“My husband is at the palace. A message arrived this morning, quite sudden. It seems even he was surprised.”

Ah, I see—His Grace must regret missing today—well, it is a busy season—
Murmurs flowed immediately.

Isilia closed her fan.

“I only hope my daughter isn’t disappointed.”

“She’s such a mature child—I worry because she doesn’t show her feelings. Thankfully, the guests seem to be cheering her up.”

“Oh, we are the ones grateful for the invitation! My daughter has been bragging all week—”

Isilia offered polite responses while her mind drifted.

She remembered how he held their disappointed daughter in his arms…
Even though that morning, he’d shared breakfast with another woman.

Mari. Marillian von Inderik.