Chapter 170: Where My Heart Leads
Though Aracila had reclaimed the important documents entrusted to the Hugo estate, she couldn’t focus on them. Her mind was too tangled, the words on the pages blurring before her eyes.
Should I really divorce Damian like this? The thought gnawed at her.
Damian himself wanted it, and those around her seemed to think it was for the best. She couldn’t deny the affection she felt for him, a personal attachment that went beyond reason. Yet their marriage had always been a calculated arrangement, built on mutual benefit. Now that Damian had declared there was no further gain in it, perhaps the rational choice was to set aside her feelings and agree to his request.
If I divorce him, maybe Frederick will hate him a little less…
The crown prince was the most likely mastermind behind Damian’s entrapment, and he was also the strongest supporter of Duke Vandemir’s calls for justice. Originally, Frederick and Damian had been mere acquaintances, but their paths had collided because of her. When Damian struck down Marquis Grant, Frederick’s right-hand man, he became a thorn in the prince’s side.
In truth, none of this would have happened if not for her. She could understand, to some extent, why Damian regretted their marriage.
Father’s right. Divorcing him and helping from a distance might be better.
But why did the idea feel so deeply unsettling?
Sprawled across her bed, Aracila let out a series of heavy sighs. Staring blankly at the ceiling, she was jolted from her thoughts by a soft knock at the door.
“Ari, do you have a moment?” Iris’s voice came through the slightly ajar door as she peeked inside.
Aracila sat up quickly, nodding. “Come in, Iris.”
“Thanks,” Iris said, slipping inside and quietly closing the door. She approached the bed, settling beside her sister. A brief silence hung between them.
Iris glanced at Aracila, whose spirit seemed unusually dim, and spoke gently. “I never would’ve guessed your marriage to Sir Damian was a sham. It did seem odd, though—someone like you, who never showed any interest in romance, suddenly having a secret love affair.”
“I’m sorry for lying,” Aracila murmured.
“It’s alright. I’m sure you had your reasons,” Iris replied, her response far more forgiving than their parents’. She trusted that her sister wouldn’t have stirred up trouble without cause.
Still, noticing Aracila’s downcast expression, Iris ventured, “So, are you going to divorce Sir Damian?”
“…Probably,” Aracila said after a pause. “It’s what he wants, and Mother and Father think it’s for the best.”
“Then why do you look so unhappy?” Iris asked, her voice soft as she reached for Aracila’s hand.
The gentle touch made Aracila’s nose sting with emotion. She felt as broken as she had when she’d been expelled from the Magic Tower. Her sister’s kind voice crumbled the walls around her heart.
“I feel like I’ve ruined everything,” she said quietly.
Regret fueled useless hypotheticals. If she’d been honest with her family from the start and sought their help, would things have spiraled this far? Or if she’d agreed to the divorce before the New Year’s festival, resisting her own greed for their marriage, would things have turned out better?
Aracila wasn’t one to dwell on regrets, yet they tormented her now.
Iris studied her sister’s shadowed face before asking softly, “What do you think you’ve ruined, and why?”
“Because I acted on my own judgment, I disappointed Mother and Father. And my marriage to Damian—it’s wrecked our relationship. He regrets it,” Aracila said, her voice heavy with guilt.
Never in her life had her emotions been so knotted, so impossible to untangle. The path she’d once charged down with single-minded determination now felt like it had plunged into a pit of chaos.
Maybe, she thought, swaying and unmoored, it would be best to follow the advice she heard most often.
“If I want to make things right now, maybe divorce is—”
“Do you really believe that?” Iris cut in, her tone unusually firm. Her warm, intelligent eyes, reminiscent of summer’s lush greenery, fixed on Aracila.
“Do you know why Mother and Father are disappointed in you?” she continued, addressing her wide-eyed sister calmly. “It’s because you tried to bear your burdens alone instead of sharing them with us.”
Iris paused, letting her words sink in. “We’re family, Ari. We’re supposed to lean on each other more than we do with others. But you’ve rarely done that, and it’s always made us sad and worried.”
Of course, they knew Aracila could handle herself—she’d always been capable. But as her family, they longed to be her support, a role they felt they’d failed to fulfill. Her dreams and talents had driven her to choose a harder path than most from a young age, making their desire to stand by her even stronger.
“But since marrying Sir Damian, you’ve changed,” Iris said. “You’ve started to work together with those around you, facing challenges as a team. It’s been noticeable.”
“Have I?” Aracila asked, uncertain.
“Yes,” Iris replied. “That’s why I don’t see your marriage to him as a bad thing. It feels like it’s been a chance for you to grow.”
The time spent with Damian had been grueling for both of them, not just him. Aracila had faced trials she’d never encountered before—new enemies, countless difficulties. But hand in hand with Damian, she’d navigated those challenges, sometimes leaning on him, sometimes turning to her family for help.
She might see it as a weakness, but to Iris, it showed her sister had learned to live more collaboratively—a rare and valuable shift for someone with the stubborn streak common among mages.
“But it’s all over now, Iris,” Aracila said, her voice heavy with gloom. “Damian and I will probably divorce soon.”
Iris’s expression grew serious. She grasped Aracila’s shoulders, turning her to face her squarely. With no trace of a smile, she asked clearly, “Aracila, do you really want to divorce Sir Damian?”
“…No,” Aracila admitted after a moment.
“And do you think Sir Damian truly wants to divorce you?”
Aracila fell silent, her brow furrowing in thought. Slowly, she shook her head. “No.”
When she’d visited him, Damian had hurled sharp words at her, but he hadn’t once met her eyes directly. Her mind had been too clouded to notice it then, lost in a fog of confusion, but Iris’s clear voice brought it into focus.
The words that had struck her deepest during their conversation, the ones that rang with his truest sincerity, were these: “Please, don’t make a foolish choice that ruins your future.”
It was advice born of concern for her, far more genuine than his talk of divorce or regret.
But Aracila’s expression darkened again. She realized it was all just her own sentiment. In the end, it was merely her interpretation, nothing more.
“But that’s just my personal opinion. Shouldn’t we respect what he himself said? After all, we married with the promise of divorce…”
“What were the conditions for divorce? That it would happen the moment one of you wanted out?”
Aracila shook her head. In the beginning, their relationship had been strained, so they hadn’t drawn up the contract lightly. To prevent either from backing out prematurely, they’d tied it to a specific condition: Damian’s inheritance of the ducal title.
Iris, tidying her slightly disheveled lavender hair as she lay in bed, spoke softly. “Aracila, you always act headstrong, but I know you’re thinking of others more than yourself.”
“…”
“You married for the family’s sake, you’re refusing divorce for Damian’s sake, and now you’re considering accepting it for both the family and Damian.”
Iris pinched her younger sister’s cheek, with enough force that Aracila blinked rapidly.
Ouch, Iris…
Being pinched on the cheek as an adult was startling yet oddly grounding, snapping her out of her gloom. Noticing the shift in her sister’s expression, Iris gave a gentle smile. “But Aracila, think carefully. You’ve gotten halfway to becoming the Master of the Magic Tower because you never cared about others’ opinions.”
“Well, that’s true…”
“So do the same this time. Follow your heart. Not what’s best for everyone else, but what you want.”
That approach had always yielded better results for Aracila. Knowing her sister better than anyone, Iris added with a smile, “They say love is something you fight for, don’t they?”
Aracila’s eyes widened, her face a mix of shock and confusion as she stammered, “W-What? Iris… how did you know I have feelings for Damian?”
“Some things can’t be hidden, no matter how hard you try. Besides, it’s always clearer to a third party than to the people involved.”
At first, Iris had found their union puzzling, but the way they looked at each other grew increasingly telling. That’s why suspicions about their relationship, from Iris and others, had dwindled.
Patting her sister’s shoulder encouragingly, Iris watched as Aracila lowered her head, lost in thought. Reflecting on their conversation, Aracila finally found clarity amid her turmoil. She realized what she truly wanted.
“I want to stay by Damian’s side,” she declared abruptly.
“Yeah?”
“Yes. I can still help him if we divorce, but I can’t be there for him the same way.”
“Then do it.”
Iris offered a faint smile, her calm support more empowering than any words of comfort.
Follow my heart.
Mulling over Iris’s advice, Aracila made her decision.
I’m not divorcing him.
The next morning at breakfast, Aracila firmly stated her intention to maintain her marriage. Expecting a stern rebuke from her parents, she braced herself, but their reaction caught her off guard.
“I knew you’d say that, Aracila,” the Marchioness said with a sigh, while Marquis Hugo nodded in agreement.
Aracila blinked, bewildered. “I didn’t think everything you two showed us was an act,” the Marquis said. “If it was, our daughter would be an actress, not a mage—and so would Damian.”
“Then why did you tell me to divorce him yesterday?” Aracila asked, a touch incredulous.
The Marquis answered gravely, “Aracila, Damian’s situation is dire. The Vandemir family is pushing harder for his execution. This isn’t something mere feelings can resolve anymore.”
A superficial bond formed by a contract marriage wasn’t strong enough to withstand such pressure, especially when urged to divorce. If mishandled, Damian could truly die, and the fallout would engulf Aracila, his wife.
“We thought, as your parents, we had to pull you out of that fire if your resolve wasn’t strong enough,” the Marquis continued.
“I’m not escaping alone. I’ll drag Damian out with me, even if I have to grab him by the collar.”
“That’s the kind of determination we needed to see to keep supporting you, despite your deceit,” the Marquis said, his lips curving into a gentle smile.
The Marchioness, sipping water as if to soothe her nerves, added, “Now that we know your heart, grab Damian by the collar and get him out. We’ll always believe in you, Aracila.”
“Thank you, Mother, Father,” Aracila said, bowing her head, deeply moved.
The Marquis and Marchioness exchanged a glance, chuckling helplessly. No parent can outmatch their child.
After breakfast, Aracila returned home with a lighter step, important documents in hand. The Hugo family formally rejected Damian’s proxy divorce request.
When Collin learned Damian was exploring other ways to push for divorce, he immediately reported to Aracila.
“My lady, the Commander might take the divorce to court.”
“That’s fine. If it goes to court, I’m confident I’ll win.”
Flashing a self-assured smile, Aracila penned a letter to Damian.
Based on their premarital contract, which stipulated divorce only upon his inheritance of the ducal title, she declared she wouldn’t accept any divorce demands. Even if Damian pursued legal action, the contract’s clear terms would bind him.
“I have no intention of giving up on you, so you’d better give up first, Damian. I’m tougher than you are.”
Pouring her heart into each carefully written word, Aracila added a final greeting and handed the letter to Collin.
“Go to the visit and make sure he reads it. Got it?”
“Yes, my lady,” Collin replied confidently, tucking the letter away as he left.
Setting down her pen, Aracila stretched with a contented sigh. As she prepared to review the documents she hadn’t fully read yesterday, Rudy burst in, holding the long-awaited reply.
“My lady, a letter’s arrived!”
Aracila quickly took it, checking the sender: the Archduchess of Keystone, one of the two imperial figures she’d appealed to for help.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ✧: *. ꕥ .* :✧ﾟ. ───
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