IDTBLT 09

Chapter 09

A few months ago, which now felt so distant—
King Hermann had ordered Reinhardt to marry Claudel.

So Reinhardt went up to the capital and faced Claudel in person.

“Truly a wise decision, Your Majesty!”
Viscount Dotrisch was grinning from ear to ear, agreeing with every word the King spoke.

But Claudel remained expressionless the entire time.
She was dazzlingly beautiful, yet lifeless—
like a high-quality porcelain doll, meticulously crafted, but empty.

“But… what was that look in her eyes?”

However, when he met Claudel again in the bridal waiting room,
she was completely different from before.

It was as if she had reunited with a dearly beloved person she thought she had lost forever.
Her face was filled with joy as she quietly looked up at him.

“Reinhardt.”

…That tender voice.
It almost felt like she had suddenly become a completely different person.

Then, when Claudel entered the bridal chamber, she showed another strange reaction.
Clutching her nightclothes tightly, she looked at Reinhardt like a rabbit cornered before a predator.

At first, Reinhardt simply thought she was nervous about spending the night with her newly-wed husband.
So he deliberately stepped back.

“If you don’t want this, it’s okay. I won’t force you.”

“Your Grace…”

“Whether we spend the night together or not, you are already the Duchess of Valdemar.”

But that wasn’t the reason.

When Claudel, summoning all her courage, slipped off the nightclothes that completely covered her body—
Reinhardt was at a loss for words.

[Hermann Roel Tscheringen Flandre]
He saw the scar burned into Claudel’s skin.

Reinhardt clenched his jaw tightly as he remembered the mark.

“How could someone carve their own name into another person’s body…?”

His violet eyes went cold.
That petty, disgusting display of possessiveness…

“Not even mute animals would be treated like this…”

It was clear to him that Hermann had arranged this marriage to humiliate him somehow.

After all, Hermann had always been like that.

The King of Flandre, and Reinhardt’s cousin, four years older than him—
Hermann had been wary of Reinhardt since they were children.

“No matter how much you act all high and mighty as the young duke, you’re still beneath me!”

Hermann would throw such rude words at him without hesitation.
Sometimes, when no one else was looking, he would even hit or pinch Reinhardt.

Of course, after Reinhardt grew taller and stronger, Hermann could no longer treat him the same way as before.

“No matter how twisted his personality is… how could he treat people like they’re toys?”

Perhaps because of this, before even feeling insulted, Reinhardt found himself pitying Claudel.

This wasn’t just any woman; it was the new Duchess of Valdemar, the consort of the North’s leader.
If he hadn’t investigated his future bride’s past thoroughly, that would have been strange.

And what he learned about Claudel’s past was…

“It doesn’t seem like she had a happy life.”

Her previous husbands had all been cruel to her.

And while Claudel barely endured those painful marriages, the only person who gained from it was the King.

Yet the rumors calling her a “witch who devours her husbands” spread like wildfire.

But—

“Did Claudel ever really have a choice in any of those marriages?”

Reinhardt was doubtful.

Because years ago, he had already witnessed Claudel’s miserable situation firsthand.

It was at a royal banquet.

Hermann, drunk, had Claudel sitting by his side.
At the time, Claudel had just recently lost her first husband.

People whispered:

“Her husband hasn’t been dead for long, and she’s already busy flattering the King.”

“Claudel should be grateful to me, shouldn’t she?”

Hermann laughed loudly as he pulled Claudel by the shoulders.

“Thanks to me, you’ve been living well as the lady of noble houses until now. Who else would arrange such marriages for you if not me?”

Watching Hermann brag, Reinhardt felt nausea rising in his throat.

But Hermann didn’t stop there.

“Well, Claudel is beautiful. Though we can’t help that she’s low-born.”

Even as she endured all those insulting words, Claudel simply smiled like a picture.

She didn’t resist or get angry.

And Reinhardt felt strangely pained by her helplessness.

He, Hermann, and Claudel—
They all breathed, had self-awareness, could think for themselves, and had warm blood flowing through their veins.

“We’re the same human beings, aren’t we?”

But the Claudel Reinhardt had seen at that banquet… was simply empty.

From the beginning, people had never treated Claudel as an equal human being.

People only treated Claudel like a beautiful but cheap doll.
Claudel, too, acted as if that treatment was natural.

Perhaps her resignation came from her family’s influence as well.
A proper father would never have pushed his daughter to become the King’s mistress just for the family’s prosperity.

“Still… he could have at least wished for his daughter’s happiness.”

In the kingdom, there was an old superstition about wishing happiness for a bride.
Something “new” to bless the bride’s new life.
Something “borrowed” to represent harmonious relationships with others.
Something “old” to symbolize her connection to her family.
And something “blue” to bring the bride good fortune.

But when Claudel stood at her wedding, she had none of these things.
Even though her mother had passed away long ago, her father could have easily provided her with at least those small tokens—if only he had cared.

“…Ugh.”

At that moment, Claudel let out a pained groan.
Startled, Reinhardt turned toward her.

“Claudel?”

She seemed to be having a nightmare.
Deep wrinkles formed across her ivory-like forehead.

“Y-Your M…”

Reinhardt shut his mouth tightly for a moment.

“Does she… still love Hermann?”

Even after he left such cruel scars on her with his pathetic possessiveness…
To the point that she would dream of him in her sleep…

But in the next moment, Reinhardt realized his terrible mistake.

“Forgive me… I’m sorry.”

A single tear ran down Claudel’s pale cheek.

Reinhardt’s violet eyes shook violently as Claudel weakly gasped:

“Please… please spare me.”

In the nightmares she always had, Hermann would inevitably appear.

“S- spare me…”

It was that day.
The day Hermann decided to carve his name directly into Claudel’s body.

“Please, Your Majesty. Don’t do this…”

Claudel trembled like a mouse in front of a predator.
There was nothing else she could do but beg for mercy.

“Stop whining, Claudel.”

Hermann looked down at Claudel with a pitiful gaze.

“Women are always so dramatic, aren’t they? It’s not like I’m going to kill you.”

Clicking his tongue loudly, as if for her to hear, Hermann slowly reached out his hand.

“You love me, don’t you?”

His cold, snake-like fingers slowly brushed Claudel’s smooth skin.
It was the area where he had decided to engrave the King’s name—
just below her chest.

A place that would never show when she was fully dressed,
but one that any man who touched her would inevitably see.

“If you love me, you should accept at least this much.”

At that point, Claudel genuinely began to wonder:
What exactly was love?
Under the name of love, how much was she expected to endure and bear?

“You’re mine, Claudel.”

Suddenly, Hermann grabbed her chin hard.
Claudel gasped for breath.

His eyes glinted sharply like those of a reptile, and it sent chills down her spine.

“Even if you end up in another man’s arms…”

His voice, thick with possessiveness and simmering heat,
burned like a brand against Claudel’s eardrums.

“Never forget that fact, understood?”

Those words felt like shackles.

Claudel’s slender shoulders trembled in despair.

Was she doomed to live her entire life trapped in Hermann’s grasp,
like a caged bird with clipped wings,
forced to look only at him…?

And then—

“…del.”

Someone called her name.

Unlike Hermann’s sticky, suffocating voice,
this one was calm—
and genuinely worried for her.

“Claudel!”

At that moment, Claudel’s eyes flew open.

Through her blurred vision, she could see Reinhardt looking down at her in concern.