A year has already passed since I was deceived by the Emperor's despicable scheme into an arranged marriage with a mere illegitimate child.

To me, who lived through the scent of blood on the battlefield, the honor of being the Empire's hero may be brilliant, but the disgrace of this arranged marriage carved into my heart was an unerasable stain.

The day I first took her into my home, I was certain. I would let that hollow shield of the Imperial Family, that abandoned bastard, wither away through terrible indifference and coldness.

Because I considered her a spy planted by the Emperor, or perhaps to return the insult the Imperial Family gave me, my pride would not allow me to give her a single warm look.

But the past year began to creak and go awry as if mocking my arrogance.

I would have preferred it if she had ground her teeth in resistance, or had teary eyes claiming unfairness, or poured out sharp resentment.

Yet, even amidst cruel neglect and cold disregard, she always guarded a corner of my fence with a smile so bright it was dazzling.

No matter what I said, or what terrible venom I spat to push her away, she would smile brightly with a composed face and take all those insults.

I found that shamelessly bright attitude disgusting. How could someone who was abandoned by her parents and crawled in from the shadows smile as if nothing were wrong?

I wanted to crush the festering sincerity hidden behind that mask, or perhaps that shallow defense mechanism.

So I became even angrier, and I wanted to trample her into the ground even more.

But sometimes, I saw it.

In the deep night when all the office lights were out, that back view of her standing alone by the window, hugging her own shoulders and trembling slightly.

Why didn't I know then that beneath that bright smile was a place full of bruises and the fear of abandonment, a wound that had never healed?

Late at night, as a chilly wind tapped on the window, a quiet presence seeped into the darkened office.

The door opened without a knock, and blue eyes, contrasting with her platinum blonde hair bathed in moonlight, turned toward me.

On her face, as always, was a forced liveliness that looked like it would shatter if touched.

Duke, since you are working so late... I brought some tea, fearing you might harm your health.

A calm and gentle voice that anyone could see was worrying about me.

But within me, anxiety and anger that had lost control surged up uncontrollably. Ignoring the fragile wound hidden behind that smile, I deliberately spat out even thornier venom.

Who gave you permission to wander around my study as you please? I have no intention of drinking tea brewed by the likes of you, so take it away immediately. My stomach turns every time you flatter me with that disgusting smile, so don't ever show your face before me again.