Chapter 0

Slap.

I felt a strange, tingling sensation run through my hand as I slowly regained consciousness. Then, all at once, a brutal flood of awareness crashed into my head.

My arm muscles, moving against my will, lifted again with force. And once more, that grotesque, uncanny feeling in my palm.

Slap.

Immediately, liquid splattered across my face, reeking of iron. A muffled groan slipped from the tightly clenched teeth of a man.

I couldn’t bear the sharp clarity of all those sensations, and I felt myself sinking back into unconsciousness. Then I heard someone’s urgent voice calling out to me.

“Lady Claire!”

No. Don’t call me that name.

“Lady Claire. Oh my! Did she faint? She’s the one who struck him, and yet she’s the one who passed out?”

Tha… that’s not… true…

***

I had a terrible dream. A dream where I whipped someone.

And strangely enough, it felt exactly like the scene from the novel I had read just before my mother-in-law called me in.

No way. Ha, ha, ha, ha.

“Milady, Lady Claire, wake up. It’s almost time for breakfast with the Count.”

‘Ugh, will someone please shut that girl up with the weird language?’

“Goodness, sleeping soundly while that boy spent the night tied up hand and foot? You’ll be struck down by heaven. And you didn’t faint yesterday, you were just sleeping! Come on, wake up.”

Still dreaming, huh. Must be sleep paralysis.

“Milady, if you don’t wake up, you’ll just scold me later for not waking you. Please, wake up, milady! Lady Claire!”

“Aaaargh!”

I couldn’t ignore it any longer. The horrifying truth hit me all at once, and I sat up screaming.

“How—how old am I?”

“Milady, what on earth do you mean?”

“I said, how old am I?”

“Sixteen, of course.”

“Him—where is he?”

“Who?”

“Him… what’s his name… the sub male lead guy.”

“The sub-male-lead?”

“No! The one with the silver hair.”

“Oh. You tied him up in the training yard yesterday, remember? Don’t know if he’s still alive.”

“What? Take me to him, now!”

“All right. But, pardon me for saying, don’t you feel the least bit sorry for him? And milady! You can’t go outside dressed like that—”

No way, no way. If I’m sixteen, then he’s seventeen. Surely I haven’t branded his face yet? If I have, then… then I…

The cheeky maid came chasing after me, and when I stopped at a fork in the path, she threw a cloak over my shoulders.

“Huff, huff, what’s so urgent? Do you really need to torment a grown man right this second?”

“Shut up! Just lead the way!”

“Fine, fine.”

I all but shoved the impertinent girl ahead of me until the training yard came into view. Knights stripped down to the waist were drilling, but the moment they saw me, they all stepped back. Their eyes glared at me with undisguised contempt.

But I had no time to care about their scorn.

What I saw next was a scene straight out of the novel.

The villainess had branded that boy—whatever his name was—with a searing iron bearing her initials, then bound him hand and foot to a wooden post.

I’m doomed.

I stepped forward with shaking legs. If that had already happened before I arrived, I’d run to the ends of this world.

The closer I came, the heavier the air grew. The knight captain beside me approached with caution.

“Raise… raise his face.”

My voice trembled uncontrollably.

“Yes, milady.”

He seized the boy’s hair and yanked.

“No! Gently! I said gently!”

I ground my teeth, issuing the command.

That’s not his hair you’re holding—it’s my lifeline.

“…Yes, milady.”

This time, he carefully lifted the boy’s face.

And when I saw it, I nearly gasped out loud. That face… that face…

It was maddeningly, devastatingly my type.

The silver-gray hair I’d only ever seen in illustrations shimmered beneath the blazing sun. His eyes, filled with contempt, were so fierce I forgot my own predicament.

That face—the delicate features, the ocean-blue eyes, the lips so vividly red no pigment could match them. Even the long lashes—he looked as though he had been sculpted out of light itself.

And, thank God, there was no brand on his face.

***

Three years into marriage, there were still no children.

But then—who was this woman sitting in front of me now?

“Seyoung, you know as well as I do that Hyuntaek has done his part.”

Done what, exactly?

“His secretary—this girl here, Hyerim—she’s given birth to Hyuntaek’s child. What else can we do?”

Done what, exactly?

“You need to know when it’s time to step aside.”

Excuse me… what?

Meanwhile, my mother-in-law was smiling fondly at the baby. Without realizing it, my eyes followed hers.

Does the baby look like Hyuntaek?

When you’re hit with something truly absurd, your brain just stops working. I stared blankly at the child while my mother-in-law slid a white envelope across the table.

“I’ll handle Hyuntaek’s signature. You just need to sign here. The alimony will be generous—no need to worry about your future.”

The woman sitting beside her was someone who’d once even come to dinner at our house.

I should’ve sensed something then… but even if I had, what would have changed?

As I reached for the envelope, I saw it. The tiniest curl of her lip.

By the time I came to my senses, my so-called mother-in-law and the woman who’d borne my husband’s child were gone.

All that remained on the table was the baby’s pacifier, abandoned and rolling around as if mocking me.

A few days later, I went to Hyuntaek’s office. I only wanted to hand over the signed divorce papers to the cheating bastard who had fathered a child with another woman. But as I was crossing the street—

A screech. A violent crash. My body was flung into the air.

Through my flickering vision, I saw Hyuntaek’s terrified face.

Tsk. What nonsense…

I knew instinctively—I was about to die.

What a wretched woman I am.

With my last strength, I seized his tie and yanked him down. I whispered into his ear, my final words:

“You…”

“What? What is it?”

“You need to get a fertility test.”

Because the envelope I held in my other hand contained more than just the divorce papers.

Inside were the paternity test results for that secretary’s child and Hyuntaek.

The probability of him being the father: practically zero.