Chapter 01
0. Even if it was the worst misfortune for you, to me…
It was her wedding night.
But there was not even a hint of excitement like a new bride might feel.
Claudel just shrunk back nervously.
“What if he thinks I’m dirty?”
Her thin fingers clutched her delicate nightgown, which was as light as a dragonfly’s wing.
…Even though she knew well enough that no matter what she did, the scars on her body couldn’t be hidden.
“Claudel.”
Just then, a calm voice called her.
Ah…
Claudel flinched and looked toward the man.
He had a face that looked like God had crafted him with care—
Jet-black hair, like strands pulled from the night sky, and noble purple eyes, unique to the House of Valdemar.
Reinhardt von Valdemar.
Today, they had their wedding. He was now her third husband.
Claudel’s cheeks flushed slightly without her realizing.
“He called me Claudel… not Lady d’Autriche.”
It was just her name.
That was all.
And yet, it made her unexpectedly happy—
Maybe because he didn’t treat her like the greedy d’Autriche woman that others saw her as.
As she stayed quiet, unsure what to say, Reinhardt sighed softly.
“If you don’t want to, that’s okay. I won’t force you.”
“Your Grace…”
“Whether or not we spend the night together, you are already the lady of House Valdemar.”
Claudel’s eyes wavered for a moment—
Like small ripples across a lake after a pebble is dropped.
Looking into her clear, blue eyes, Reinhardt repeated firmly:
“That fact won’t change.”
Claudel suddenly felt her chest tighten.
“You… really haven’t changed.”
He was the first man to ever show her warmth—
Someone gentle and kind, who in the end, had tried to save her.
Because of that… Claudel found the courage to speak.
“It’s okay.”
The strength left her fingers, which had been gripping her collar.
After swallowing nervously, Claudel carefully sat on the bed.
“Then…”
Reinhardt gently reached for her collar.
“Excuse me.”
Claudel inhaled sharply without realizing it.
Jet-black hair, as if pulled from the deepest part of the night sky.
Noble violet eyes, unique to the House of Valdemar.
Reinhardt von Valdemar.
He had married her today—her third husband.
Claudel’s cheeks turned a little red without her noticing.
“He called me Claudel… not Lady d’Autriche.”
It was just her name, nothing more.
But still, she couldn’t help but feel happy.
Maybe it was because he no longer saw her as part of the greedy d’Autriche family.
As she stayed silent, Reinhardt let out a short sigh, perhaps misinterpreting her quietness.
“If you don’t want to, it’s okay. I won’t force you.”
“Your Grace…”
“Whether we spend the night together or not, you are still the lady of House Valdemar.”
Claudel’s eyes shook slightly—
Like ripples in a lake after a pebble is dropped.
Looking into her trembling blue eyes, Reinhardt said again in a calm, steady voice:
“That fact won’t change.”
Claudel’s heart felt tight.
“You… really haven’t changed at all.”
He was the first man to ever share warmth with her—
Someone always kind,
Someone who, in the end, had tried to save her.
Because of that…
Claudel found the courage.
“It’s okay.”
The strength left her fingers, which had been gripping her collar.
She swallowed dryly, and then carefully sat on the bed.
“Then…”
Reinhardt gently held her collar.
“Excuse me.”
Claudel instinctively lowered her breath—as if holding it.
[Hermann Roel Tscheringen Flandre]
Below her soft chest, a name was clearly tattooed on her skin.
It was the name of the King.
The tattoo was placed where it wouldn’t show under clothes…
But if someone shared a bed with Claudel,
they would see it immediately.
It was like how a child might write their name carefully on a beloved doll.
The way the King had chosen the spot and marked it in jet-black ink showed how obsessive he was.
“……”
Claudel couldn’t bear the shame any longer and curled up into herself.
What do I do…
If Reinhardt ends up despising me too…?
But Reinhardt acted in a way she never expected.
Huh?
Claudel, stunned, opened her eyes wide.
His long, warm fingers gently brushed over the spot where the King’s name was tattooed.
“It must have hurt…”
His voice, always so steady, was shaking softly in this moment.
“Your Grace…”
Claudel called him in a trembling voice.
His warmth spread over the scar left behind by the King.
A kind, comforting hand… gently touching her as if to soothe the pain.
“You must have suffered a lot.”
The moment he said that, all the tension left Claudel’s body.
Reinhardt looked up and met her eyes.
There was no disgust, no hatred, no contempt—nothing negative at all.
Only those beautiful violet eyes, seeing Claudel exactly as she was.
The honest gaze she loved so deeply.
What do I do…
Claudel bit her lower lip hard, unable to hold back her emotions.
I feel like I’m going to cry…
Reinhardt didn’t rush her.
He just waited—quietly and patiently.
After hesitating for a while, Claudel carefully wrapped her arms around his neck.
His strong arms quickly pulled her into his embrace, as if he had been waiting.
Her cold body suddenly became warm.
“Ah… hng… Your Grace…”
And so, under Reinhardt’s warmth, again and again she reached her peak.
Claudel’s mind drifted to the past that no longer existed.
Before her return—
She had been the King’s puppet and mistress.
…And in the end, Reinhardt had been the one to save her.
* * *
When Claudel was around ten years old—
Her father, the Viscount d’Autriche, stroked her hair and said:
“Someday, you’ll be the most beautiful flower in all of Flandre.”
His bloodshot blue eyes, burning with a strange heat, looked her up and down.
His gaze wasn’t like that of a father looking at his daughter—
It was more like a merchant appraising a valuable item.
How can I sell this for the highest price?
That seemed to be what he was thinking, with a creepy, calculating look in his eyes.
Like a cold hand brushing down her spine, the chill of it made Claudel shudder without realizing.
At the same time, the Viscount d’Autriche continued in a gentle voice:
“As long as I have you, I can raise our family back up again.”
Claudel swallowed hard.
Despite the deep sense of wrongness she felt from him,
this version of her father was different from the one she usually saw—
the one who was always drunk and yelling.
Now, he wore a calm face.
And so, Claudel felt glad that—for once—her father wasn’t angry.
“You’ll do your best for your father, won’t you? Right?”
“Yes, Father.”
When she nodded, he smiled at her for the first time.
“I love you, my daughter.”
Just a small smile—nothing much.
But Claudel desperately held on to that moment of warmth.
Her life had been filled with fear, constantly trying to read her father’s mood,
always worrying whether she’d be the one he took his anger out on that day.
Living like she was walking on thin ice, every single day felt like it was draining the life out of her.
I don’t want to live like this anymore…
So, Claudel threw herself into trying her best to meet his expectations.
“A lady must always walk gracefully, no matter the situation.”
To learn how to walk gracefully, she wore dangerously high heels all day long.
But the shoes were too new and stiff.
Her heels soon blistered and bled, leaving her feet covered in wounds.
“Father, can I rest for just one day?”
Claudel, unable to take the pain, begged her father—
SMACK!
The Viscount d’Autriche slapped her hard across the face.
Her fragile body staggered and fell far to the side.
“Ah… ugh…”
Claudel let out a faint moan.
The blow was so hard her vision went blurry.
After crawling on the floor like a bug for a while, she finally managed to lift her head.
“F-Father…”
Her blue eyes were now filled with fear.
But the Viscount didn’t care.
He glared at her fiercely, shouting:
“How are you ever going to catch the King’s eye like this?!”
Trash men everywhere!!