Chapter:39
A Misfit Equation
“I apologize for speaking carelessly about your visit to the Duke Orphe’s residence today, madam. I thought the master already knew… Since you went to see family, I believed it was natural to share it.”
Simone’s voice trembled, nearly on the verge of tears.
“But madam, surveillance? Why would you say something so hurtful? Why would the master ever spy on you? You are the precious lady of this house!”
“…”
Anshi’s gaze faltered. She turned her head away.
“…I’m tired. I misspoke. Sorry for being sensitive. I’ll rest now.”
Simone, as if there were still things left unsaid, lingered for a moment but eventually left the room.
“If you need anything, please call for me.”
As the door closed, Anshi curled up again on the bed.
Simone’s voice, wounded and full of disbelief—How could you think that?—brought her spiraling thoughts to a sudden halt.
Only then did she realize how far her mind had been sinking into the depths.
Yes… No matter how ruined Rubelsa’s reputation had become, it wouldn’t have come to that…
It was a suspicion she wouldn’t have dared entertain in the past—an unfounded accusation born purely from insecurity.
When she closed her eyes, her eyelids trembled.
Her spiral stopped.
But she hadn’t surfaced. She was still buried deep.
It felt like her entire body was trapped beneath the soil, being gnawed away by worms.
Simone reluctantly stepped out of the room, casting one last worried glance back at Anshi.
Surveillance, she thought. What kind of husband would spy on his wife right after marriage?
Especially those two—they had married despite others’ objections, out of love.
So why did madam think such a thing?
To Simone, it seemed Madam was teetering on the edge.
People who are more sensitive and sharper than others… they must be carrying deep wounds. It’s because they are not solid within—they raise thorns to protect themselves.
After a moment of hesitation, Simone set off in a new direction.
“There you are.”
Hénet flung open the door to the president’s office of the textile company Damion managed.
Still hunched over paperwork, Damion only looked up after stamping a document. The deep silver pen with wave engravings was set neatly back in its stand.
“How did you know I was here? Have you been keeping someone on me?”
“Surveillance?”
Hénet, flipping through books on the shelf, raised both eyebrows. Damion leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, and casually asked,
“How do you feel when you hear that word?”
Disgusted, or maybe amused. That’s how Damion had felt—he wondered if others did too. One thing was for sure: surveillance was never a pleasant word to hear.
But Hénet, innocent-faced, tilted his head and replied brightly,
“Feels about right, honestly.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I actually asked the secretariat to send me a telegram whenever you came to the company.”
“…So you really were keeping tabs on me.”
“More like answering a call, wouldn’t you say? As a board member here, I do feel a sense of duty to show up when the president does.”
Hénet was both an investor and advisor in several of Damion’s ventures. Because of that, they often crossed paths outside of their shared club.
If anyone asked who spent the most time with Damion last year, saying “Hénet” wouldn’t be far from the truth.
Now, of course, that spot seemed to belong to Anshi de Orphe.
“So what’s with the sudden talk of surveillance?”
“It’s nothing reall…”
Damion started to shake his head but then paused. Lowering his gaze in hesitation, he finally spoke again.
“Hénet, you’ve been in a lot of relationships, right?”
“Please don’t bring up Lenny.”
“This has nothing to do with her. It’s just… something someone asked me, and I started wondering.”
“Okay.”
So this is about him, Hénet thought, but he didn’t let it show. He gave Damion his full attention.
Damion leaned forward. Instead of jumping into the story, he picked up his tea. After drinking the now-cold brew, he let out a deep sigh.
This kind of hesitation was uncharacteristic of Damion.
Must be something serious, Hénet thought as he moved a bit closer.
Then Damion asked,
“What do you think it means when a woman asks a man if he’s been spying on her?”
“Hm…”
So it was about a woman.
After thinking for a moment, Hénet answered,
“Probably one of two things. Either she has something to hide…”
“That’s not it.”
Damion cut in before he could finish, but Hénet continued unfazed.
“Or… she’s become sensitive enough to imagine such things.”
“…”
Damion’s brow furrowed.
So that was the right guess, Hénet thought, shrugging.
“People with a lot of emotional wounds tend to become more reactive to small things.”
Damion gave a low murmur of agreement.
So—was her sharp reaction rooted in hidden scars?
It made sense. Those who’ve been hurt deeply often react strongly to things others brush off. When thoughts are tainted with paranoia, it’s not something that’s easily stopped.
And that… was something Damion understood all too well.
When he was younger, he’d once believed the entire world wanted him dead.
Maybe she, too… was like that.
“Is it because you think I’m unworthy of the Orphe name?” she had asked, baring her thorns.
She was realistic—Damion always thought she understood her situation well. Though their marriage was cloaked in the pretty veil of love, it had started from a tilted scale.
She’d never shown it before, so Damion had forgotten.
Forgotten that Damion de Orphe had “rescued” Anshi de Rubelsa. Forgotten that this was the obvious narrative everyone believed.
But now…
Now, he was beginning to see things differently.
Who is Orphe to make her feel that way?
Was he just a selfish man using her position to achieve his goals?
He remembered how she had cried at their wedding, dreaming of the future. A sharp pain seized his chest.
Then Hénet said,
“Damion… There’s something I’ve been wondering too.”
Damion looked over.
“Your marriage—was it really a plus for you?”
“…”
Of course.
That should’ve been the immediate answer. But it didn’t come.
His lips felt heavy.
Could he really use her as an asset, as he’d planned?
Now… he wasn’t sure anymore.
The once-set equation was starting to crumble.
As Anshi stepped out for her outing, her eyes landed on a carriage entering through the front gate—the emblem of the Marquis of Baylis.
“Anshi!”
Her eyes widened. From the carriage window, Elise leaned out, waving excitedly.
When the carriage stopped, Elise climbed down and trotted over.
“Elise? What are you doing here?”
“I came to see you!”
Anshi frowned slightly, uncomfortable.
“You should’ve sent word. I have an errand today—I’m going out.”
“Where to? Can I come with you?”
She was headed to Roma’s shop. The last time she had taken the gold from the Rubelsa estate, she had promised to return a week later. That day was today.
Since the payment would be handled inside, bringing Elise wouldn’t be an issue. But… would she enjoy a place like that?
“It’s a store that deals in luxury secondhand items.”
“What? Is Lord Damion making you buy secondhand? That’s absurd…”
“No. I know the owner personally.”
“Ah… well, antiques have their charm. Sounds fun!”
Elise quickly adjusted her reaction. Clinging to Anshi’s arm, she beamed.
“I want to come too!”
“You don’t usually like places like that.”
Elise had always lived surrounded by new things—clothes, furniture, everything. As the only daughter, she had never needed to use hand-me-downs.
Even if she had, her doting father would’ve insisted on everything being brand new.
“Still! I might end up liking it once I see it. Come with me in my carriage!”
“Alright.”
Anshi finally gave a nod. It wasn’t even her own store—she had no reason to refuse. If anything, she could use Elise’s visit as an excuse to ask Roma for a discount on commission.
“Take care, madam!”
Simone called cheerfully from behind as Anshi climbed into the carriage.
Elise and Simone locked eyes. Simone clasped her hands and bowed deeply.
Elise mouthed the words: Don’t worry.
With a bright smile, Elise joined Anshi, and the carriage began to roll toward Madame Roma’s shop.
“I thought it would take longer, but everything sold in a day.”
The envelope Roma handed over was thick. The pieces had fetched more than expected. In the end, the weight mattered more than the craftsmanship.
“Looks like this will be quite profitable. You should’ve brought them sooner.”
“Indeed.”
Anshi gave a wry smile.
Breaking into a house she’d been cast out of to steal valuables—she would never have dared such a thing before. She had once lived quietly in the South, clinging only to the thought of killing Cardian.
But once she decided to throw everything away, something like this felt trivial. The truly terrifying part of her life hadn’t even begun yet.
