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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 40
Chapter Title: My Husband Returned
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A recall order was issued for Demian. The ostensible reason was his wife's deteriorating health.
However, the real reason was that family issues had been heavily publicized, causing a stir in the capital, and he was to return quickly to sort things out.
Having packed his bags just in case, as Aracilla’s letter had instructed, he departed for the capital as soon as the order came. It was true that he was returning earlier than expected, just as she had said, but given the reason, it wasn't exactly welcome.
On his way to the capital, Demian read the newspaper his subordinate had procured for him. The events that unfolded at the Hounds Countship's tea party were described with exaggerated language.
‘Starved, beaten, exploited.’
They certainly covered all the bases, just like when I was a child. His usually firm lips twisted. He crumpled the newspaper almost to a ball.
Demian knew. This was all Aracilla's plan. That much was clear from her earlier letter instructing him to prepare for his return.
She had set a trap for the Grand Duchess and made a bold move to call Demian back.
So, half of it must have been overly exaggerated, but strangely, Demian couldn't calm down. His heart pounded with an unpleasant sensation, like someone anxious and restless.
‘What is this feeling, exactly?’
Was he, ridiculously, worried that another victim like himself would appear?
Or was it already feeling a pathetic sense of kinship and pity, fearing that Aracilla had endured similar hardships to his own childhood?
‘She couldn’t have done the exact same thing to her as she did to me. That was only possible because I was young then.’
Demian made a cold assessment. No matter how much she was the Grand Duchess, she couldn't have treated Aracilla exactly the same way.
He smoothed out the crumpled newspaper. Then he carefully scanned the article. His golden eyes stopped at the phrase, ‘The Vandermir Duchess collapsed with a pale complexion, like a brittle leaf falling onto parched earth.’
‘—Is she very ill?’
He recalled her pale, thin neck, slender wrists, and waist, which he had seen up close sometime before.
Unlike her unpredictable and audacious personality, her appearance was truly delicate. So, he couldn't even tell if the talk of her illness was true or false.
‘It wasn’t pity, it was worry.’
Realizing he was worried that Aracilla might genuinely be ill, Demian ran a hand over his face and sighed.
Since when had he become so full of sentiment? He immediately opened the carriage window, called a subordinate, and ordered,
“From now on, we ride to the capital without stopping.”
* * *
In the stuffy aristocratic society that valued etiquette, it was natural for a married woman to become a member of her husband's family.
At this time, the new bride became a newcomer to the family, and her husband's family members became her superiors, teaching her. Among them, the husband's mother or grandmother, who would pass on the position of mistress of the house, was the direct superior.
Typically, to uphold the existing order, the superior would teach the newcomer harshly. They would make her cry and sniffle, breaking her spirit so she couldn't even hold her head up.
Then, when the newcomer bore children and time passed, the superior's position would be handed over. She, in turn, would become the superior and welcome a new newcomer.
In other words, every young noblewoman had experienced harsh treatment in their in-laws' home.
This was why, in the recent conflict between the Vandermir Grand Duchess and the Vandermir Duchess, surprisingly many people sided with the latter.
"I know what it's like, having gone through it myself; it was too much."
Moreover, the exaggerated misdeeds, passed through many mouths, made the Grand Duchess appear to have crossed a line, which in turn led to sympathy for Aracilla.
"How much must the young Duchess have suffered?"
The public's sympathy intensified as she, having collapsed at the tea party, failed to recover her strength and remained confined for days.
‘Ugh, when is Demian finally coming?’
Aracilla herself, having recovered her strength long ago, was itching to get up, but she purposely stayed in bed, feigning illness.
“Audrey, where has Demian reached?”
Aracilla asked Audrey, the only one privy to her feigned illness. She would only get out of bed once her husband arrived.
“He’s reported to have crossed the eastern wall at a faster pace than expected, so he should arrive around tomorrow afternoon.”
“Oh, really? Then I should send a letter to my sister, asking her and Mother to come visit.”
The news had blown up more than expected, throwing the Hugo Marquisate into a frenzy. Aracilla had desperately restrained them from rushing over through Iris.
Since things had come to this, she intended to leverage her family's support by emphasizing her relationship with Demian, so her family couldn't arrive before him.
Most importantly, Demian had to arrive for them to formally remove the Grand Duchess.
‘If I were to send the Grand Duchess away, it might provoke a negative reaction.’
No matter how you looked at it, it was better for a grandson to send his grandmother away; a granddaughter-in-law doing so could appear presumptuous.
Thanks to this, despite the commotion, the Grand Duchess had remained in the mansion, and Aracilla had not yet sent her away.
‘Demian has to be the one to seal it.’
To give the Grand Duchess no leeway whatsoever, Aracilla was thorough. She intended to prevent her from barging in whenever she pleased again during their marriage.
The long-awaited day of Demian's expected arrival.
Aracilla threw open the doors to visitors, which she had previously kept closed, using her recovery as an excuse.
She planned to display affection for her husband in front of others, signaling that there were no issues between them as a couple.
“Ah, I should have told Demian to buy a bouquet or something on his way.”
It was just as that thought occurred to her, and she was about to send a magic messenger pigeon.
Knock, knock. Someone knocked on the door.
Thinking it might be her sister and mother, Aracilla immediately allowed the unidentified visitor into the room.
“Come in.”
But the person who entered when the door opened was neither her sister, nor her mother, nor even Demian.
It was the Vandermir Grand Duchess.
The Grand Duchess had suffered for the past few days. She had never experienced such humiliation in her life.
Decades of history and honor, built as a noblewoman who reigned over high society, had crumbled in mere days.
Having faced an unprecedented media onslaught for the first time in her life, the Grand Duchess was beside herself.
"Do they know who I am?! How dare they treat me this way?!"
But no matter how much she, as the perpetrator, fumed, the newspapers simply ran articles like, ‘Is the Vandermir Grand Duchess suffering from an anger management disorder?’
‘I cannot return to the Ducal territory like this. I must set everything back to how it was!’
The Grand Duchess gritted her teeth, intending to hold Aracilla, the source of the current situation, responsible. However, Aracilla had secluded herself, feigning illness, and locked her door.
She wouldn't listen even when asked to talk.
And to force her way in was risky; the mansion maids guarded the room like a fortress, and she was wary of strange rumors spreading.
In the end, the Grand Duchess endured, feeling as if her insides were boiling and melting, waiting for Aracilla to end her seclusion.
Then, upon hearing that Aracilla had finally agreed to receive visitors, she rushed over without delay.
The maid guarding the door had been lured away by the Grand Duchess’s own maids, allowing her to enter easily.
“……”
“……”
Amidst the uncomfortable silence, the Grand Duchess scrutinized Aracilla with sharp eyes.
“Ha, I knew it.”
Due to her pale makeup, Aracilla still looked somewhat ill. But the Grand Duchess believed that merely by sitting on the sofa, she had fully recovered her health.
In truth, it wasn't a mistaken belief. Aracilla was indeed healthy now.
“You’ve been healthy for days already, haven’t you just been lazily dawdling in your room?!”
But when she was abruptly scolded and accused without clear evidence, Aracilla couldn't help but feel displeased.
“That’s not true, Grand Duchess.”
“Silence! I’ve never seen anyone as cunning and sly as you. How dare you undermine my dignity in front of everyone?!”
Even the rumors spread by the mansion maids were sensationalized in the news, dragging the Vandermir Grand Duchess’s image through the mud.
She had suddenly become a person who cruelly tormented her young and beautiful granddaughter-in-law out of ugly jealousy. When she, who had always been above the clouds, descended, reporters eagerly pounced.
Her reputation, built over the years as a wise and elegant noblewoman, respected by high society, crumbled overnight.
She tried to pressure the newspapers using the Vandermir Ducal Family's influence, but strangely, a few outlets refused to comply, making it impossible to stop a string of gossip articles disguised as follow-up reports.
This was why the Vandermir Grand Duchess, seething with venom, had no choice but to seek out Aracilla. It was all because of Aracilla.
“If I were your grandmother, would I have thrown a Purple Violet Turning in a place with so many eyes watching?!”
“If you were my grandmother, Grand Duchess, you wouldn’t have given me an invitation with a single violet dot on it in the first place.”
Aracilla looked directly at the Grand Duchess, her blue eyes shining with intelligence and vitality, just as they had on the first day.
Looking at those eyes alone, she didn't seem like someone who had suffered through harsh treatment from her in-laws.
“How dare you talk back to me now! The image of the Vandermir Ducal Family, damaged because of you, cannot be restored even with a billion gold!”
Why is it because of me? It's the result of your own uncivilized behavior.
Aracilla swallowed the words that had risen to her throat. While she no longer needed to grovel before the Grand Duchess, it wasn't yet time to bare her teeth completely.
“I won’t say much more!”
The Grand Duchess, having barely regained her composure, declared with a stern face.
“I will arrange a gathering, and you will explain that everything was your misunderstanding and delusion, born of excessive imagination. Then, you will immediately follow me back to the Vandermir Ducal territory.”
Aracilla felt a pang in the back of her neck at the absurd suggestion. Did she really think she would say yes to that?
Just as Aracilla, facing the Grand Duchess’s gaze, which clearly still looked down on her, was about to bare her teeth,
“Have you finally lost your mind, Grandmother?”
A low, heavy voice cut between the two women. Without even turning around, Aracilla knew who had arrived.
The changed air current, the Grand Duchess’s rapidly shifting expression, and the slow, heavy footsteps approaching clearly revealed his presence.
Her long-awaited husband had returned.
* * *
The first words Demian uttered upon entering the mansion were:
“Where is my wife?”
The loyal butler reported that her Ladyship was in her bedroom. So, Demian headed straight for the bedroom without even changing his clothes.
Thanks to this, he was able to catch the Grand Duchess spouting nonsense at Aracilla.
“Why would my wife go to the Ducal territory with Grandmother? Her husband, I, am right here.”
Even as he retorted to his grandmother in a chilling voice, his eyes were fixed on one person.
As if feeling the sharp gaze, Aracilla slowly turned her head. Demian, who was approaching her, flinched.
Her eyes, glistening with a faint wetness, looked as if they were about to spill tears at any moment.
“Demian…”
Her slightly subdued voice trembled faintly as she called out to him. Demian moved faster and more agilely than ever before.
In just three steps, he reached her and stood, his large body shielding Aracilla.
The Grand Duchess’s expression was not good as she watched this. She opened her mouth, sending a hostile glare at her grandson.
“You are truly rude, let alone greeting this old woman upon seeing her.”
“Can that compare to a grandmother who shows up without warning?”
“Indeed. You should have checked in more often. I couldn’t bear not knowing how my grandson was living.”
Demian didn't even let out a scoff at the shameless reply. He simply looked down at the Grand Duchess with cold eyes and said in a low voice,
“Leave our house immediately.”
“What?!”
The Grand Duchess, as if dumbfounded, let out a loud snort. Crossing her arms, she arrogantly lifted her chin.
An undeniable aura flowed from her, who had lived as the mistress of the Vandermir Ducal Family for decades.
“Why is this *your* house?! This place inherently belongs to Vandermir. Do not dare to use it as if it were yours when it is not!”
Demian was not hurt by her remarks, which subtly treated him as an outsider. Words of this kind were too familiar to even sting.
He deliberately curved the corner of his lips smoothly and met the Grand Duchess’s gaze. The Grand Duchess flinched at his cold smile.
“No matter how much you deny it, Grandmother, I am also a Vandermir.”
His fierce voice, like nails scraping down a blackboard, rang in the Grand Duchess's ears.
“Don’t turn away now, after raising me to be a true Vandermir who would stop at nothing to achieve their goals.”
