04.

Riad Ingel was essentially the savior of the Ingel family.

The previous Baron Ingel had amassed a fortune so vast that it could never be squandered, no matter how extravagantly spent. He even bought a title with that wealth. But there was always an insurmountable wall—the world of nobility, where birthright and lineage were everything.

Yet, their son, Riad, had risen to become the emperor’s right-hand man, a feat that was almost unimaginable for a family of their status. How could the baron and baroness not adore him?

That’s why they now stood below, beaming with joy as they welcomed him home with open arms.

But Henesstia felt differently.

The news of Riad Ingel’s return felt like the countdown to a bomb she had long feared would finally go off.

Her legs gave way, and she slumped into a corner of her room, her mind swirling with the words the maid had delivered to her earlier.

“The Baron said you don’t need to greet the Count, just stay in your room.”

It was almost laughable. Just yesterday, they had been urging her to prepare to bear Riad’s child, acting as though they’d put her at the front of his welcoming party. Yet now, they had locked her away in her room.

Even if she had gone out to greet him, neither the baron nor baroness would have welcomed her presence, and she feared what Riad’s reaction would be.

Rumors claimed that he was an aloof man who wasn’t interested in trivial pleasures, but Henesstia didn’t fully trust those rumors.

‘How could he be any different, being raised by parents like the Baron and Baroness?’

Even if he seemed composed and stable now, having achieved so much, surely he had inherited some of their traits.

Her vision swam as her eyes darted around the room, catching on a long fur hanging on the wall, which in her anxious state, she momentarily mistook for a whip. Startled, she shuddered before realizing it was only the fur. Still, a cold chill ran through her.

As the unease settled in, Henesstia reverted to an old habit that had formed over time—biting her nails. It wasn’t until she tasted blood that she quickly pulled her hand away from her mouth.

“Could the Count be angry that I didn’t come to greet him?”

A wife who hadn’t even bothered to meet her husband upon his long-awaited return—if Riad Ingel didn’t know the full situation, it would certainly be cause for displeasure.

“It’ll be fine, it’ll be fine,” she reassured herself.

The Baron and Baroness must have explained it to him. After all, it was they who had ordered her to remain confined to her room.

Isolated from all the excitement surrounding Riad’s return, Henesstia hadn’t eaten breakfast or lunch, nor had she had a sip of water. But she wasn’t hungry, nor did she feel thirsty.

All she could do was pace restlessly around the room, trying to soothe the gnawing anxiety that churned in her gut.

* * *

How much time had passed? The only sound in the room was the ticking of the clock, and as dusk fell, the warm glow of sunset began to creep into the space.

Finally, Henesstia cautiously lifted the curtain she had hurriedly closed earlier.

Though there were still a lot of people outside, there was no trace of the knights who had returned with the Count. She let out a breath, though she wasn’t sure if it was in relief.

With a little of her worry dissipated, her stomach growled loudly.

Skipping meals had become routine, but she hadn’t eaten properly since the previous day, and her nerves had worn her out completely.

As more time passed, the scent of food wafted into her room, along with the sound of laughter and music from the party downstairs. Her hunger intensified.

‘If things go like this, I won’t get to eat anything tomorrow either.’

After any party, the servants were always too busy to attend to her, leaving her neglected as usual.

Given her past experiences, she could already see herself starving tomorrow. Thirst soon added to her misery, and her throat began to feel dry and cracked with every breath.

“I’m so thirsty…”

Her body felt as parched as a drought-stricken land. After a moment of hesitation, Henesstia finally decided to change her clothes. The Baron and Baroness were at the party, and so was the main guest, Count Riad.

After thinking it over, Henesstia remembered a well behind the castle, near the stables and incinerator. No one would be there.

She couldn’t risk going to the kitchen. She had no desire to be sneaky, as the Baron had once mockingly likened her to a rat. So, carefully, she peeked out into the quiet hallway, ensuring no one was around before she began to walk.

‘If I go quickly, it’ll be fine.’

The corridors were dim, with only a few candles burning in their holders, casting weak flickering light along her path.

Stepping outside, the cool night breeze and the eerie stillness of the grounds greeted her.

If she walked in the opposite direction, she knew she’d soon reach the lively, bright, and fragrant atmosphere of the party. But Henesstia kept walking toward the darkness, driven by thirst.

As the moon, veiled by clouds, shed a faint glow on the landscape, she spotted the well in the distance.

Even though no one was around, she walked with perfect posture, her steps steady and deliberate as she made her way toward her destination.

And if she were honest with herself, she was slightly relieved she didn’t have to greet Riad Ingel.

‘At least I don’t have to see him.’

This thought lightened her steps as she quickened her pace.

The man.

Yes, the man she had never met, who was supposedly her husband, though it didn’t feel real.

“…”

“…”

She thought she wouldn’t have to see him.

But then—

A sudden sound sliced through the air, freezing the world around her. Her red eyes flicked toward the well as her mind went blank.

In the darkness, illuminated only by the pale light of the moon, golden eyes gleamed like those of a beast.

Henesstia stopped in her tracks.

The clouds shifted, and the moon gradually revealed itself, casting a silvery beam that fell upon the figure standing by the well.

A man, his hand resting on the edge of the well, was pouring water over his body, drenching himself. As he stood upright, his gaze landed squarely on Henesstia.

Slowly, his wet lips parted.

“Henesstia Ardin.”

His voice was deep, cold, and dry, weighing down on her like a heavy burden.

Riad Ingel.

His golden eyes glinted under the moonlight as he pushed back his wet hair, revealing his sharp, clean-cut features.

Water droplets trickled down his chiseled face, running over his broad, scarred chest and down his muscular frame. His bare upper body was marked with battle scars, his powerful muscles flexing as he breathed.

For a moment, Henesstia couldn’t move, paralyzed as though the world had come to a halt.

She couldn’t even scream or gasp—just standing there without making a fool of herself felt like an accomplishment.

“And now, I suppose you are Henesstia Ingel.”

Riad said, his voice calm and composed.

He took a long stride toward her, closing the distance between them.

That was her limit.

The sharp scent of animal hide and the lingering smell of blood filled the air, causing her to instinctively take a step back. It was a reaction driven purely by instinct.

She tried to brace herself, to hold her ground, but with Riad approaching from the darkness, it felt like she was prey cornered by a predator. Her heart began pounding uncontrollably.

“Isn’t that right, my wife?” he asked.

He didn’t seem to care that Henesstia remained silent or that she was clearly avoiding him. He simply stepped forward, closing the distance she had just created, until he stood directly in front of her.

“You didn’t come out to greet me today…”

In the dim moonlight, his figure loomed over her, casting a shadow that enclosed her within it.

Henesstia slowly, very slowly, lifted her head. The amount of courage it took for her to perform that simple act was something Riad likely couldn’t even begin to imagine.

“Yet, here you are, showing me your face.”

Their eyes locked in the space between them.

Up close, Riad’s face was more striking than she had anticipated, and that made it all the more terrifying. His appearance, though cold and distant, was far more intense than she’d expected.

Her voice would have trembled if she spoke, so Henesstia straightened her back even further. It was like a small, harmless animal trying to puff itself up in an attempt to appear larger—completely ineffective.

She quickly spoke, trying to explain.

“I didn’t stay behind because I didn’t want to greet you. The Baron and Baroness told me not to…”

She had no idea how he would react. Even after speaking, her insides twisted painfully, her anxiety worsening by the second.

“That’s a convenient excuse.”

Her carefully chosen words, meant to be truthful, were easily dismissed.

Riad’s cold voice caused Henesstia to lower her head even further. His voice, quieter than before, made her wonder if he was angry.

‘Why is this man even here like this?’

Riad should be the center of attention at the grand party, not standing by a well, dressed as he was. It made no sense to her.

“Is that mouth only for making excuses?”

Henesstia flinched. His voice was intimidating. She glanced at his hand, which hovered near his waist.

He wouldn’t… he wouldn’t hit me, would he?

There were rumors about Riad Ingel’s lenient treatment toward even war captives and children, suggesting he was a man of measured temperament. But Henesstia couldn’t rely on that alone, especially after all she’d suffered under his parents.

She couldn’t let her guard down. If he struck her with those large hands, someone as fragile as her would surely collapse.

Then he reached out.

Involuntarily, Henesstia squeezed her eyes shut and hunched her shoulders, bracing herself. But his hand only brushed against her hair as it missed its target.

Not giving up, his hand swiftly moved and grabbed the shawl draped over her shoulders, clutching it tightly. The fabric wrinkled in his grip.

“…Ha.”

Riad let out a short, bitter laugh as he stared at the shawl now in his hand.

“You act as if I would harm you. Or perhaps…”

He slowly ran his fingers through his damp hair, pushing it back as he murmured.

“Are you afraid of being mistreated by a man of such low birth?”

His cold, golden eyes narrowed as he withdrew his hand, taking a step back.

An uncomfortable silence settled between them.

Henesstia wanted to say that wasn’t why she had flinched, but the words wouldn’t come out. The moment his hand had reached toward her, her heart had plummeted, as if it had dropped to the floor and was now pounding at her feet.

Any faint curiosity about what kind of man he was vanished into the night air, replaced entirely by fear.

“Lady Ardin,” he called her.

“…”

He used her former title, the one she held before marriage.

She knew what it meant—he didn’t acknowledge her as his wife.

Henesstia finally lifted her head. Their eyes met—her red ones, filled with uncertainty, and his golden ones, glowing like polished metal under the moonlight.

Riad Ingel simply stared down at her, wordlessly.

His eyes were like melted gold, as if he had submerged them in the deepest depths of a golden pool. Each time his long lashes fluttered, his gaze grew darker and deeper, as if it might swallow everything around him.

“I’m… Henesstia Ingel,” she said, her voice shaking slightly.

The humiliation of her current situation, of having fallen so low, made her lash out in desperation.

There was no trace of the grace or calmness she once prided herself on. Her voice lacked the warmth and charm she used to wield so skillfully in her former life.

“I am not Lady Ardin anymore.”

“Is that so?”

Riad smirked, crushing whatever courage she had managed to summon.

“If you want to be an Ingel, then you must act accordingly.”

He casually reached for a shirt that had been lying on the side. Despite being wet, the white fabric clung to his body as he pulled it over his muscular frame, but he didn’t seem to care.

“Prepare yourself and come to my room.”

He buttoned the shirt, one by one, all the while mocking her with his calm words.

“I wonder if the noble lady will come willingly to her husband’s chambers.”

The cool breeze that had once felt refreshing now chilled Henesstia to the bone, like an icy wind cutting through her very soul.