How to Part With You Perfectly, Chapter 1
Where did it all begin?
Was it when I took that man’s hand at the northern monastery? Or was it when I blinded myself with vengeance against my own flesh and blood, determined to return to the capital at any cost?
If not that, perhaps the root of my misery was simply that I had been born into this world at all.
Like many condemned prisoners facing death, I traced back the steps of my hopelessly tangled life, but no clear answer ever came.
It made sense. From my earliest memory, people had always detested me. Searching for the beginning of a misfortune already upon me brought nothing but a sense of utter powerlessness.
I scowled irritably at the sliver of sunlight slipping through the crack in the stone wall, then jerked my head away.
Tucking myself into the corner to escape the blinding glare, I felt the damp, cold bite of the stone against the back of my head.
The stone prison reeked of stagnant water. Without a single small window, the light barely reached inside, and with no ventilation, the air hung thick and stale.
‘Come tomorrow, this wretched place will finally be behind me.’
Thinking that brought a strange sense of relief. Rather than dragging out a trampled life where I merely clung to breath, it was better for everything to end completely. Tomorrow, I would break free from this exhausting cycle and finally find my rest.
All my desperate struggles to survive felt hollow now; my will to face the world had collapsed overnight. The moment my child died—the sole reason I had endured a life steeped in agony—the world lost all meaning to me.
After all, no one else in this world had ever loved me, and I had no lingering attachment to a world without her.
There was nothing to pass the time in this cell. The charges pinned on me were absurd and deeply unjust, but after a day or two, screaming myself hoarse had begun to feel pointless.
Joseph had finally found the pretext to wipe me out completely, and he was not a man to let such an opportunity slip away. My very existence was a blemish on his legitimacy; with me gone, he would at last become an unblemished emperor.
Resignation had come swiftly, for no one in this place would ever listen, no matter how loud I screamed. By my third day in the cell, I had stopped crying out my innocence and meekly accepted my death.
Looking back, it was hardly a curse. Though it would be a shameful death, my child was waiting on the other side. Perhaps it would be better than this world anyway.
Trapped in a cramped space with nothing to do, idle thoughts naturally take root in the mind. A prisoner locked in a cell was no exception.
Curled up in the corner, I tried to picture what would unfold tomorrow after my severed head was strung up in the square.
The tales of the outside world that the guards chatted about outside the door—plainly intended for my ears—served as fuel for my imagination.
Idle gossip about which woman the Grand Duke, my husband, was tangled up with. Rumors that fresh evidence proving my guilt was surfacing by the day.
They said the people beyond the castle walls were holding a festival, rejoicing that the day the wicked woman’s head rolled had finally arrived. Things inside the imperial palace were surely no different.
By now, Marianne and Joseph were likely already raising their glasses. Had my death not been their lifelong dream?
It wasn't hard to imagine them grinning ear to ear at the sight of my severed head hanging in the square.
‘None of it matters.’
Whatever others said about my death was none of my concern. I had never received pity or compassion in life, so death would be no different. But still…
A man’s face drifted faintly through my mind. A noble, unyielding man who had never once broken, no matter the circumstances.
Would he be glad?
He was not petty enough to laugh in the face of another's death. Yet I was the one who had brought nothing but disgrace upon a life forged in honor and glory, the very culprit who had driven his most precious daughter to her grave. Even if he did not laugh openly, he might feel relieved inside.
My gaze darkened as I stared down at the sunlight pooling on the floor.
The mere thought of it was unbearable. More than death itself, I feared the reaction he would show once I was gone.
Would he smile? Or might he feel even the slightest sliver of pity?
Losing myself in those futile thoughts, I pulled my knees to my chest and buried my face against them.
I wished the day would hurry along. A phantom departed from this world would feel nothing at all.
How much time had passed? The harsh screech of a rusted iron door opening nearby jolted me awake. The guards only bothered coming all the way to my cell when they brought meals, so a good deal of time must have elapsed.
With my face still pressed against my knees, I listlessly turned my head. Through the tangle of unkempt dark hair, a figure walking toward me came into hazy view.
Yet something was wrong. Instead of the usual drab, rumpled uniform, the clothes were unmistakably luxurious. And the short, stout frame I expected was slender today, entirely different from usual.
The moment my dull gaze caught the ring on the man’s finger, my eyes went wide. I snapped my head up.
Meeting that cold gaze, I forgot how to breathe. The person who had opened the door and stepped inside was not a guard, but my husband.
‘I never thought he would come…’
After our daughter died, he had fallen apart just as badly as I had, but now he stood before me, impeccably groomed once more. As his gray-violet eyes swept over my face, I quickly averted my head. The belated thought of my own dreadful appearance struck me.
In contrast, he was as flawless as ever. His handsome face was unchanged, and his stride toward me remained, as always, without a fault.
He seemed far too composed for a man whose wife was to be executed tomorrow, and the faint dregs of pride left inside me stirred.
“What are you doing here?”
I hadn't meant for it to sound that way, but the words came out cold. Used to my hostility, he merely stared down at my face instead of answering.
Our gazes tangled at an angle.
At last, he parted his lips.
“Soliet’s funeral has been concluded. She was laid to rest in the sunniest spot in the family cemetery at the Grand Duchy, so Your Highness will be pleased.”
A hollow laugh spilled from my lips at his impassive tone. What was the use of knowing that, when in the end I wouldn't even be able to lay a single chrysanthemum before her? Even in death, I would never be buried beside my child.
It felt as though I was enduring every worst horror a mother could face. Losing my child was not enough; I was framed as the murderer who killed her, and in the end, I was denied even a place beside her in the earth.
Knowing how easily she took cold, the thought of her lying beneath the chilled soil tore at my heart. It was I who should have died, not Soliet…
“Are you mocking me?”
Having eaten almost nothing since being locked away, the voice scraping past my throat was thin and pathetic.
“Joseph stripped away every title I had.”
“…”
“Not only did he demote me to a bastard, but he also made me your mistress.”
Being struck from that damned imperial family register meant nothing to me, but having my name erased even from the ducal lineage was another matter entirely.
If my marriage to my husband was nullified, did that not make my dead daughter a bastard? Having lost any semblance of honor long ago, I cared little for myself, but the thought of her name being dragged through the mud was unbearable.
“It will be better for everyone once I'm gone anyway. Joseph, Marianne, those filthy vermin, not to mention you…”
I cut myself off and stole a glance upward. The man still stood like a tree, looking down at me.
Carrying the weight of the years since our first meeting, his face was noticeably leaner than I remembered. Wrinkles creased the corners of his eyes, and his brilliant golden hair had faded somewhat.
Yet he remained beautiful. The air about him had shifted since his youth, but he was still a singularly handsome man.
I sneered inwardly. He had always been the object of every woman’s desires, so even after I died, he would live surrounded by their advances.
With his wealth, renown, and good looks, it was only natural. Crucially, he had no son to inherit his title. While that fact had always been a source of chronic anxiety for me, it was a blessing to his ardent admirers.
After stillborn delivery of our last child, I was told I would never bear another. Once the world caught wind of that, the women blatantly making eyes at my husband had multiplied.
Until now, he might have refrained from taking a mistress for our child’s standing, but he would have no reason to hold back anymore.
Besides, with the Emperor personally annulling our marriage, his record was wiped clean and unblemished. My imagination would likely turn into reality before long.
Once I was out of the picture, he would start a family with another woman and live on comfortably, as though nothing had ever happened.
The thought alone made my stomach turn.
“There were always plenty of women vying for the place at your side, so taking a second wife will be effortless. Whoever she is, she’ll at least give you a son. Allow me to congratulate you in advance.”
“Self-pity to this extent is an illness.”
The voice coming from above was frigid. The eyes meeting mine from so close were just as cold.
“Even without Your Highness saying so, the festivities outside are already in full swing. To say nothing of those residing within the imperial palace.”
Hearing that voice utterly devoid of feeling, I bit the inside of my cheek.