Chapter 24
For a moment, the image of Valentine holding the unconscious Clarissa and brushing back her damp hair surfaced in Damon’s mind—and his stomach churned.
His hand gripping the reins trembled with betrayal and rage.
Why her feelings had suddenly changed no longer mattered.
“Damn you, Clarissa! If what you want is a divorce, then fine—I’ll give it to you.”
After all, today Aileen had become engaged to Valentine. She would now be treated as the future Crown Princess.
Aileen, who loved luxury and admiration, would quickly grow accustomed to being adored by everyone—and inevitably give up whatever lingering feelings she had for him.
And if she doesn’t… I’ll make her. Getting rid of someone like Aileen isn’t difficult.
If she still clung on, he could simply marry another woman—someone who wouldn’t lie about love.
He despised women who pretended devotion.
What about the eldest daughter of Count Collins, who was drowning in debt? If he paid off her father’s debts and allowed her some moderate luxury, she would likely be satisfied.
Or the second daughter of Baron Beren, who had reached marriageable age but couldn’t hear well—no one had even sent her a proposal.
Maybe she would suit me perfectly, he thought. At least she wouldn’t cling to me and chatter endlessly.
The road from the Racton estate to the imperial palace was completely jammed with crowds celebrating the engagement.
When his horse could no longer move forward, Damon abruptly dismounted.
“Millen. Take the horse. I’ll walk.”
“My lord, it would be best to have an escort on a day like this. Because of your Sian trading company’s pepper monopoly, the Bairn merchants suffered heavy losses. They’re quite agitated.”
“Since when did you start questioning my orders?”
Damon’s pride had been trampled by Clarissa, and the loss of the Magic Tome had left him in a razor-sharp mood.
“M-my apologies.”
“Go to the Merciem estate. If Clarissa has woken up, tell her I’ll grant the divorce.”
“…Pardon?”
Millen couldn’t even bring himself to ask if he was serious.
“Tell her to return to Middletown immediately. We need to discuss property division before the divorce. And once she returns, make sure she doesn’t step outside the estate.”
He couldn’t allow her to roam freely and cause trouble anymore.
His chest was still boiling with anger. If Clarissa provoked him even a little more, he might explode—and he couldn’t even predict what he would do then.
“I… understand.”
Sensing Damon’s unstable state, Millen quietly withdrew.
Damon turned toward the imperial palace, but after only a few steps, he stopped at someone calling him.
“Baron! Did you come to watch the parade?”
It was the eldest daughter of Count Collins and the second daughter of Baron Beren.
Both had dressed extravagantly to attract attention at the banquet—their heavy makeup and strong perfume were overwhelming.
“I’m on my way to the Rite River. I’m to assist His Highness Valentine during the ritual for the goddess’s blessing.”
“Then let’s go together! We’re heading there too.”
The two ladies flanked him, smiling brightly.
Just imagining walking between them all the way to the river irritated him.
They weren’t asking for much—just to walk together—but he simply didn’t want to.
He had always been like this. He had never felt interest in women, never felt excitement.
Ironically, the only person he had ever allowed close to him… was Clarissa.
Damn it!
His anger toward her only deepened.
She had said she would repay his kindness. She had said she would live quietly like she was dead.
Grit— his teeth ground together.
“I just remembered something I need to do. Go ahead without me.”
Without waiting for a reply, he turned sharply and kicked a small stone in irritation.
“This is driving me insane.”
After venting his frustration, he cut through an alley and headed toward the Rite River.
Soon, a vast field opened before him, and the river shimmered in the distance.
As he walked toward it, a desperate voice called from behind him.
“Damon!”
The last voice he wanted to hear.
He slowly turned—and his sharp eyes fell on Clarissa rushing toward him.
What the hell is that appearance?
Her hair was completely disheveled, her dress filthy and covered in thorn seeds.
Noble ladies who had arrived early were already whispering.
“Goodness, look at Baroness Craig. Did she just roll around in the forest with someone?”
“There are plenty of thorn flowers behind the Crown Prince’s palace too. Perhaps she got them there?”
“With someone? Alone in the forest?”
“The Crown Prince was at the ceremony the whole time. Could she have seduced one of his guards?”
The malicious whispers were loud enough for Clarissa to hear—but she ignored them and approached Damon.
“Damon! I need to talk to you.”
“Is this another scheme? Showing up like this just to humiliate me?”
“The road was blocked, so I had to run as soon as I got out of the carriage.”
Only then did he notice—she was holding her shoes in her hands.
She had run barefoot?
He let out a dry laugh.
“What urgent matter made you run barefoot to find me? If you’re that eager for a divorce, go to the temple and get the papers issued.”
“…You’ll grant it?”
“You wanted it. Fine. I’ll give it to you. But not the wasteland.”
Her eyes trembled slightly.
“Damon.”
“I’ll give you the Middletown estate. The attached lands too. And one million Berk. That should be enough—you don’t need to covet the wasteland.”
“Let’s talk about that tomorrow. No—come back to Middletown with me now so we can discuss it.”
Clarissa set down her shoes and clasped her hands together.
But to Damon, her desperation looked like nothing but an act.
“Since when did you think you could tell me what to do? Was I that laughable to you?”
“Damon! You’re in danger. Ingis Racton is planning to shoot you with a poison arrow—from across the river!”
Damon let out a small laugh.
She hated him enough to demand a divorce, yet didn’t want him to die?
Ah… it’s about the inheritance, isn’t it?
Since there was no heir, if Damon died, Clarissa wouldn’t inherit anything.
Of course, Damon had no intention of dying.
He had some resistance to poison—at worst, he would just lose consciousness and fall into a deep sleep.
“How did you find out Ingis is trying to kill me?”
“I overheard it in the forest. They were gathering Tara flowers. He might already be aiming at you right now!”
Her eyes were filled with worry, her lips trembling.
For a brief moment, Damon wished—just once—that she truly cared for him.
But her truth was simple.
She wanted a divorce.
She had abandoned him.
I must be useless to her now.
After all, Valentine was there—desperately holding her when she collapsed.
A surge of uncontrollable anger rose within him.
“Get lost, Clarissa. Whether I live or die, you can go live your life.”
“D-Damon! This is about your life—you can’t ignore me!”
“I should’ve ignored you from the moment you begged me to marry you. You’re nothing to me—just a source of trouble.”
“…!”
“I’ll say it again. Bring the divorce papers. As soon as possible.”
He turned and walked away.
Clarissa ran after him and grabbed his arm.
“Just this once—please listen to me.”
“Let go! A woman like you—two-faced—I can’t stand it.”
He shook her off and kept walking.
Clarissa stared at his back, then collapsed to the ground as her legs gave out.
Fine. If you’re so determined to die, then die, Damon Craig.
She had practically gone mad on the way here, biting her nails until they bled.
The carriage had been stuck, so she had thrown away her shoes and run—only to be ignored like this.
Miranda rushed to support her.
“My lady, people are watching. I told you to change your dress first…”
“…They’ll fall off on their own as I move. That’s how they spread—trying desperately to survive. Let’s forgive them.”
At that moment—
Damon stopped.
He slowly turned his head as if frozen.
Clarissa was already being led away by Miranda.
Why… are you saying that? Could it be… you were that person?
A faint longing filled his eyes. His chest tightened painfully.
“…Clarissa. Wait.”
He turned and hurried after her.
Her words echoed in his mind:
“They’ll fall off on their own as I move. That’s how they spread… trying desperately to survive. Let’s forgive them.”
He had heard those words before.
“…Could it be you?”
A memory he never wanted to recall surfaced.
Flashback
After the Rochenka family was annihilated, the young Damon was thrown into a cart and dragged to an unknown place, locked in a windowless room.
He didn’t know where he was. He didn’t know what would happen to him.
Among a group of cowering people, he barely clung to life, dressed in rags.
Before he was captured, his nanny had stripped off his blood-soaked clothes and dressed him in a coachman’s son’s outfit.
She even shaved off his black hair completely—so no one could recognize him.
Damon wanted to die.
He cursed his own weakness—being too young, too powerless to harm the monstrous Duke Racton.
Then one deep night—
