THNW 01

Today, my eyes opened with a strange ease.

The dim light that seeped faintly through the gaps of the blackout curtains felt unusually vivid.

Even though it was a midwinter morning, it felt refreshing rather than cold.

My head was clear, and my heart was calm.

It was an exceedingly subtle feeling, difficult to put into words.
‘Today is the day I leave this house.’
And yet, I can be this indifferent.

Perhaps it was because I have lived every single day without forgetting my circumstances, constantly turning them over in my mind.

Slowly sitting up and leaning her back against the bedside as she always did, Anita stared at the coldly chilled space beside her.

Lancelot Edenbahir.

This was, without a doubt, the place meant for her husband, Lancelot.

But in nearly half a year of marriage, the two of them had not shared a bed even once.

It had to be that way.

Because they were a married couple in name only.

She brushed the familiar emptiness, so vacant it felt downright chilly.

Never had she been more grateful that Lancelot was not beside her than she was today.

If she faced his face, the resolve she had steeled herself with might waver.

Anita did not want to be selfish.

For no one else’s sake but Lancelot’s.

Knock, knock.

Always the same hour for waking.

The maids entered quietly, drew back the blackout curtains that covered the windows, and began to stoke the fireplace.
“Madam.

Today, instead of chamomile, I’ve brewed coffee.

We brought in some fine coffee beans at dawn.

The aroma is wonderfully fresh.

It has that bright acidity you like, Madam.”
The middle-aged woman who set a light breakfast and coffee before her, Madame Michela, was an old retainer of House Edenbahir.
“Since it’s especially cold today, it might not be a bad idea to wear your hair down.

Do you have an outing planned, Madam?”
“Yes.

I’m thinking of going into town for a bit.”
“As always, shall I dress you plainly?”
“Please.”
Today, unlike usual, Anita chose her own outing clothes.

A garment that had lain as if hidden away in the deepest part of the winter wardrobe.

A late-autumn dress that alone boasted a bright pink hue.

It was a little thin to wear in winter, but if she fastened her coat tightly, it would be fine.

Madame Michela asked with a puzzled look.
“Was there an outfit like this?”
“It’s something I brought the day I first came here.”
“No wonder I thought it looked bright and soft in color.

It seems you used to enjoy wearing clothes like this before you married.

I think it will suit you well.”
Afterward, when Madame Michela had fastened every button all the way up her back, she clapped her hands with satisfied eyes.
“It suits you so well, Madam!

I hope you’ll wear dresses with this kind of fresh feeling more often.

These days, regardless of the season, everyone….”
Instead of echoing her enthusiasm, Anita gave an awkward smile.

It wasn’t that she couldn’t understand why Madame Michela was chattering so excitedly.

Anita’s wardrobe was always dark.

Because she had only brought in clothes of calm, unnoticeable colors and designs, no matter what the weather was like, the season of what she wore was always either autumn or winter.

A dark wine-colored hat.

A soft reed-colored coat.

A subdued gray dress.

A neat white muffler.

Clothes with restrained colors she had chosen of her own accord, so as not to stand out, wherever she went.

But among them, there was nothing that belonged to Anita.

From head to toe, everything was her husband Lancelot’s.

The jewelry, the bag, even the carousel music box she looked into every night….
‘Lancelot’s consideration for me, left all alone.’
Her husband, Lancelot, treated Anita as a complete duchess.

Thanks to that, the past half year of married life had been abundant, lacking nothing.

It was largely due to Lancelot that everyone in this mansion came to treat Anita as the Duchess of Edenbahir.
‘It was only a marriage of necessity.’
Even though it was a marriage with divorce already planned, Lancelot treated her with sincerity as a duchess.

It was, truly, a life far beyond what she deserved.
“Ah, Madam.

His Grace the Duke said to keep this evening free.”
“…This evening?”
“Yes.

It seems he has something to tell you.”
Perhaps taking Anita’s silence as agreement, Madame Michela left the bedroom without another word.
‘It looks like he’s already left the mansion.’
Her husband had been quite busy lately.

There were many nights he spent away, so their entire conversation amounted to little more than exchanging brief evening greetings just before sleep.

Is it fortunate for me?

After all, I don’t think I could leave as if nothing were the matter after facing that face.

Anita took out the notebook she had hidden deep inside a drawer.

Between the thin pages, a letter she had written a few days ago was tucked away.

A final letter to send to Lancelot.
‘…I can’t hesitate now.’
To the Lancelot of today, her existence was little different from a troublesome burden.

He was the proud master of House Edenbahir, and one of the few heirs to the throne.

Their marriage, because of Anita’s status, gave birth to countless rumors.

Because of a being called Anita, an unerasable scar formed upon Lancelot’s honor, and the label “a man with a wife of base status” followed him.

The open ostracism and contempt among certain noble ladies was not so grueling.

What was hardest was all the mockery and scandal Lancelot had to endure because of her existence.

So let’s leave before it’s any later.

So that Lancelot can cast away his pity.

So that she won’t be a shame to him, and so that he can keep the woman he loves by his side.

After staring down at the notebook for a moment, she carelessly crumpled it between books on the shelf.

She also set the letter neatly atop the table, then lingered for a long while before leaving the bedroom.

Only by leaving it behind like this in secret could she depart from here.

Because Lancelot was the kind of person who would, somehow, hold on to Anita and persuade her to stay here.

Anita’s husband was that kind of man.

He looked cold, but was warm.

He looked sensitive, but was generous.

A caring man.

A gentle man.
A good man.
…A man she liked.

As if he had heard the news of her outing, the old butler standing before the bedroom gave her a slight bow.
“Madam.

The carriage to take you into town has been prepared.”
“It’s fine.

Maybe because the weather is nice, but today I want to walk a little.”
Anita quietly steadied her breathing.

He doesn’t know what you’re thinking.

Don’t be nervous.

As if nothing is wrong.

Just act as you always do.
“When do you expect to return?”
“Around midday.

Don’t prepare lunch.”
“Yes.

Have a safe trip.”
Leaving the butler who bowed politely behind, she stepped out of the ducal residence.

Her steps are short—too short.

The dirt road spread before her eyes felt endlessly long.

I have to go farther from here.

To a place I can’t return from.

To a place where I can endure it even if I miss Lancelot.

Very far away.

At some point, it seemed she had been moving her legs busily.

After running for a long while, Anita suddenly stopped and turned around.

Edenbahir.

My happiest memories.

This moment will be the last of those memories.

The more she looked back, the more she realized just how much she had received from Lancelot.

So now, it was Anita’s turn to step back.

For her husband’s new beginning.