Chapter 12
Of all people, it was Sieghart—the one-man Natasha never expected to come looking for her.
He tilted his head slightly as he caught her just about to leave.
“I just… have some business to take care of,” she said, her voice faltering.
As she spoke, she heard the sound of a lock clicking into place.
Startled, she looked toward the door and saw him slipping the key into his pocket.
He had locked it—deliberately.
The sheer audacity left her stunned.
She glared at him, silently demanding an explanation. In response, Sieghart calmly pointed out her true intentions, as if justifying his own rudeness.
“A trip to the Duchy of Kshant… quite a long journey, don’t you think? And you weren’t going to tell me?”
“…What are you talking about?”
“That’s not how this works,” he said coolly. “The money you planned to spend, the carriage you were going to take, the clothes on your back, the roof over your head—all of it belongs to me.”
He walked toward her and tossed a sheet of paper at her feet.
It was the letter—the one she had sent to the Grand Duke of Kshant. The very one that should have been sitting on his desk.
“You were planning to betray me.”
The words were spoken low and calm, but they landed like a thunderclap.
Natasha could only stare, stunned. Why was that letter here, crumpled on the floor?
Why wasn’t it in the Grand Duke’s hands?
Was this their reply?
A refusal—telling her not to contact them again?
Her mind went blank, unable to process anything.
Sieghart stepped closer and gently gripped her shoulders. His expression was sharp, but his hands were careful—like he knew just how easily he could hurt her.
“You offered to cooperate with the Duchy.”
“…”
“And you were choosing them over this place? You must be confused. You’re no longer a princess. Once you’ve given them what they want, they’ll toss you aside like garbage.
They won’t protect you—they’ll exile you.”
He sounded as if he was trying to lecture her, and Natasha let out a dry laugh.
Exile? Treated like trash?
How amusing, she thought.
He spoke as if that would scare her—as if she hadn’t already been living as an outcast within these very walls.
The threats held no weight.
She had already experienced worse right here.
“I only chose a lesser hell to escape the one I’m in now,” she said coldly.
“Don’t talk to me like I’m a fool.”
Natasha swallowed down the sharp edge in her voice.
There was no point in raising it—no point in fighting.
He would just scowl and move on, unmoved.
Any outburst from her would be written off as nothing but an emotional tantrum.
So she stayed calm, even when she was burning inside.
“This place is hell to you, then?”
“Would you rather I called it paradise?”
His voice carried a faint note of disbelief. Even that sliver of confusion felt dishonest.
She had been betrayed by the man she loved.
Scorned by her own servants.
Stripped of her freedom and locked in her room like a prisoner.
What other word could describe this life but hell?
“It was a good place once. Under the protection of a proud noble house, I didn’t have to fear death.
I had knights to protect me, servants to support me.
I lived in comfort, ate well, slept in luxury.
For a ruined princess, I had more than I deserved.
But this place became hell…”
“…”
“…because of you, Sieghart.”
The words slipped out, a bitter sigh of truth.
She couldn’t hold it in anymore.
What infuriated her most wasn’t his actions—but his obliviousness.
He didn’t even seem to realize the weight he carried in her life.
“Then… what if I changed?”
“…What?”
“What if I became a loving husband? If I truly loved you—could hell become paradise again?”
It could have, she thought.
She didn’t say it out loud.
That truth… she couldn’t bring herself to admit.
Not now.
Not to him.
It was too late.
He should’ve changed when she first reached out—when she asked him to help her, when she begged him to save Kayeina.
But instead, he had turned away.
Now, only when she tried to escape, did he show affection.
As if it were enough to make her stay.
That afternoon was no different from the countless dull days before.
But then, someone came to visit her study—a place that rarely saw guests.
“You’re requested in the dining hall.”
A maid, polite and well-mannered, gave a small bow and led her out.
Of all people, it was Sieghart—the last person Natasha expected to come find her first.
He tilted his head slightly as he caught her trying to leave.
“I just… have something to take care of,” she mumbled quickly, trying to dodge the moment.
But then, she heard a quiet click—the door locking.
She turned her head in alarm and saw him slipping a key into his pocket.
He had locked the door.
Her breath caught in her throat.
As she stared at him in disbelief, he calmly justified his actions by exposing her plan.
“A trip to the Duchy of Kshant would be quite long. Were you planning to leave without telling me?”
“W-What are you talking about?!”
“No can do,” he said smoothly. “The money you were going to spend, the carriage you were going to ride, the clothes you’re wearing, even the house you live in—they’re all mine.”
He walked toward her and tossed a letter onto the floor in front of her.
It was the letter—the one meant for the Grand Duke of Kshant.
“You were planning to betray me.”
His low voice hit her a second late.
Why was the letter on the floor?
Wasn’t it supposed to be on the Grand Duke’s desk?
Could this be their answer?
A silent rejection? A warning never to contact them again?
Natasha’s mind froze, blank and white as snow.
While she stood stunned, Sieghart approached and gently gripped her shoulders.
His face was stern, but his hands were unexpectedly careful—like he knew just how easily he could cause pain.
“You were going to side with Kshant.”
“…”
“And you chose them over here? You’re mistaken. You’re no longer a princess. Once they get what they want from you, they’ll discard you like garbage. They won’t protect you—they’ll exile you.”
His words sounded like a warning, but Natasha couldn’t help but laugh.
Garbage? Exile?
What a joke.
He spoke as though her current life was somehow better—as if being cast out would be worse than what she already endured.
But here, she had long been treated like an outsider. Like she didn’t belong.
“So, what if I chose a lesser hell to escape the one, I’m in now? Don’t talk to me like I’m some kind of fool.”
She held her voice in check.
What would be the point of screaming?
He would just blink and shrug, as if her pain were nothing more than a tantrum.
If her suffering would only be written off as rebellion, there was no point in lashing out.
“This place is hell to you, then?” he asked.
“Would you prefer I called it paradise?”
There was a flicker of confusion in his tone.
Even that moment of doubt felt insincere.
She had been betrayed by the man she loved.
Abandoned by her servants.
Trapped, day and night, in this room with no freedom.
What else could she possibly call it, if not hell?
“It was a good place,” she said bitterly.
“Under the roof of a powerful house, I didn’t have to fear death.
I had guards to protect me, servants to help me, fine food and rooms too grand for someone like me—a princess from a fallen kingdom.”
“But all of that… turned into hell.”
“…”
“And it’s because of you, Sieghart.”
The words escaped like a final breath.
She hadn’t planned to say it—but his obliviousness was too frustrating to bear.
“You think if I change, things will get better?”
“…What?”
“If I become the loving, devoted husband you wanted… will hell turn back into paradise?”
Maybe…
The thought surfaced.
But she swallowed it before it could pass her lips.
She had her pride.
And besides, it was too late.
He should have changed when she needed him—when she begged for help, when she pleaded for Kayeina’s life.
Now, when she was trying to run, he suddenly showed concern?
Now, he decided to care?
That same afternoon passed like any other—dull and uneventful.
But then, someone arrived in Natasha’s study—an unusual occurrence.
“You’re expected in the dining room.”
The maid gave a respectful bow and guided her out.
As Natasha walked through the hallway, other servants stopped and bowed—visibly startled.
The same ones who had never acknowledged her as the Duchess before were now showing her full respect.
When she entered the dining room, Sieghart was already seated at the head of the table, waiting.
His posture was perfect, composed.
When he heard her footsteps, he turned his head toward her in one fluid, elegant motion.
“…I told you I don’t need fake kindness anymore,” Natasha muttered as she sat in her usual seat.
“This fake kindness you find so tiresome,” he replied easily, “you’ll get used to it over time.”
His tone was calm—like someone who had seen this strategy work before.
Once the food was served, Natasha slowly began to eat.
The meal dragged on in awkward silence.
I feel like I’m going to be sick…
The chef’s cooking—praised by all—tasted like nothing.
Her appetite was gone. Her stomach felt heavy, her chest tight.
And the reason was clear.
It was his gaze—watching her too closely, too intently.
“…I can’t eat. I’m going back to my room.”
She stood, left the dining room, and headed toward her room.
Her heavy dress tangled around her legs, but she didn’t care.
She ran. Hard.
Her heart raced—too fast to blame on exercise alone.
But when she arrived, something was off.
Her room—the one that had been completely fine this morning—was empty.
All of her belongings were gone.
Before she could process it, footsteps approached behind her.
It was one of the maids, catching her breath after clearly rushing through the hallway.
“We’ve moved your things, my lady. You’ll be staying in a new room starting today.”
“…Without even telling me?”
“It was all done very quickly. Please forgive us for not informing you in advance.”
The maid bowed respectfully, and Natasha found it difficult to stay angry.
They walked the familiar halls until the maid stopped in front of an even more familiar door.
She stepped aside, motioning for Natasha to enter.
“…This must be a mistake.”
“No, my lady. The Duke gave us instructions.
He ordered your belongings moved here and said you’d be sharing his quarters from now on.”
“You mean… I’m to share a room with him?”
“Yes, my lady.”
She tried to object, shocked—but the maid’s tone left no room for doubt.
It was real.
So, this is what he meant by becoming a “better husband” …?
Natasha could only feel disbelief at how quickly Sieghart had flipped his attitude.
Naturally, Natasha didn’t welcome his change.
His fake kindness only brought back memories of the day she begged and was rejected.
The more Sieghart wormed his way into her daily life, the harder it became to breathe.
I don’t understand him.
By morning, a crowd of maids arrived—clearly acting on Sieghart’s orders.
They rushed in to help her get ready, filling the room with noise and movement.
Natasha sighed quietly, watching the chaos.
He had once pretended to love her—put on an act for half a year.
Then, once he got what he wanted, he cast her aside without a second thought.
Yes, he had pretended to be her husband for a moment.
But it had only lasted a moment.
If you don’t want to dine with me, if you don’t even want to kiss me… then let me go. Let’s end this and return to our separate lives.
The memory came back to her—when she first entered the duchy and he had avoided her under the excuse of being too busy. Then suddenly, after an incident, he changed and started treating her kindly.
That time too…
Yes, it was after she had asked for a divorce.
Just like now, when she tried to leave him, he began pretending to care.
Is there still something he wants from me?
He’s probably just waiting—until I let my guard down. Then he’ll walk away again.
This time, it would be her turn to use his kindness.
If he believed she’d given up on escaping, then this was the perfect moment.
Her disillusionment had made her realistic.
That day, Natasha went obediently to the dining room.
She finished the meal he had specially prepared with all her favorite dishes, then casually made her move.
“I want to go out for a bit. Maybe to a nearby village. Would that be okay?”
“I’ll assign a knight to escort you,” he replied.
“And… if possible, I’d like to go in disguise.”
His eyes narrowed at her, but she quickly added:
“The villagers… I don’t want to draw attention. Since it’s not an official outing, I just want to relax a little.”
“I understand. I’ll summon a priest to help you change your appearance.”
“Thank you, Sieghart.”
She gave him a smile—a practiced one, entirely insincere.
He returned the smile.
Maybe that’s why he didn’t ask any more questions and simply allowed her to go.
