“Useless fairy wench.”

In her previous life, Esriel had been that kind of existence to her husband.

An illegitimate daughter of an enemy king, bestowed upon a defeated imperial prince.

His wife, his shame, the butterfly he ultimately burned.

In this life, what kind of existence was her husband to Esriel?

He was the flame, the flower that consumed her as she burned.

So now, she would fly freely.

—After first repaying old, festering grudges.

“Kill my half-brother for me.”

“Bear a child. A silver haired boy. I want that child.”

With that, a pact was forged. It was a contract utterly in her favor.

The moment the mark of their oath was carved into each other’s shoulders, Esriel made a vow.

‘This time, I will be the one who’ll use you. Then, I’ll throw you away.’

*

Kylian’s cold gaze lingered for a long while on the child’s light brown hair.

As if by habit, he took out a cigarette and held it between his lips, forgetting even to light it as he traced the small, delicate features of the child with his eyes.

“So the bastard who calls himself the child’s father left you in this filthy mire? What an impressive sort of love that is, isn’t it.”

The crooked tone that spilled out in place of white smoke was no different from before.

But his voice.

The voice that had always frightened Esriel was trembling beyond control.

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