“Discard what you don’t need.”
Octavio’s words echoed like a spell.
All the days he’d clung to Rebecca, terrified of losing her, felt meaningless now. A single pimple moved him more.
Yes, hadn’t she begged him to abandon her yesterday?
With grim resolve, Zeppelin summoned a servant.
At his cough alone brought three waiting outside rushing in.
He ordered the wardrobe opened.
Scanning the long row, he clicked his tongue—no outfit suited the day.
Servants frantically presented clothes; he kept shaking his head.
Then his eyes landed on the tuxedo hanging on one wall.
The one he’d worn the day he proposed to Rebecca.
Kept as a memento after that single use.
A satisfied smile spread across his face.
The perfect garment to bookend their beginning and end.
* * *
“You came to see me again today.”
“Worried about me? How thoughtful.”
“…Tell him that.”
About to turn the ornate golden doorknob, Zeppelin froze at Rebecca’s soft voice.
It was unchanged—sweet, elegant, lovely.
He’d resolved to cast her aside, yet lingering memories clung stubbornly.
Stomping them down, he flung the door open.
“Zeppelin?”
Rebecca’s eyes widened.
He approached, then frowned.
The warmer weather worsened her stench, but the black cat in her arms bothered him more.
“Another cat? I’ll order stricter pest control.”
Rebecca hurriedly shooed Leo out the window, then straightened as if nothing happened.
“It’s just a cat—no need to overreact.”
Silence fell.
His nose tickled; he covered it with his handkerchief, inhaling its perfume deeply before pocketing it.
Watching every gesture, Rebecca smiled.
“Something to say?”
“Remember this outfit?”
He showed her his tuxedo.
She regarded it expressionlessly.
How could she forget?
The day she’d walked into her own coffin.
She even remembered his breathing that day.
“Of course. The suit you wore when you proposed. Nostalgic—the good old days.”
She truly missed them.
If she could return, she wouldn’t have to endure this farce.
She could’ve rejected his proposal and lived as the carefree eldest Obelia daughter.
Zeppelin lowered his gaze at her reminiscing eyes.
Her blisters grew more grotesque.
He had to accept it.
His beloved was ruined forever.
“Isn’t it painful, Rebecca?”
Her heart jolted at his sorrowful sky-blue eyes.
He’d never shown such concern before.
Painful?
Not a single day without pain, because of you.
Truth rose in her throat, but she said something else.
“If it’s my fate, what can I do?”
“Yes. Fate. Let’s blame fate.”
“What do you mean?”
“Become a saint, Rebecca.”
Instead of answering, she widened then narrowed her eyes, asking silently.
Frowning briefly, he sighed and spoke calmly.
“Divorce me. I can’t watch you rot here.”
“You’ve decided.”
Rebecca smiled weakly.
Divorce. He’d finally said it.
“I asked for it, but hearing it stings.”
He should try to stop me at least once.
The old Rebecca would’ve clung.
Swallowing joy, she put on a hurt face and gently grasped his arm.
“No chance you’ll reconsider?”
Zeppelin scowled at her touch, then harshly brushed her arm away.
Swollen blisters covered it.
Rebecca stared at her rejected hand, looking wounded.
He pitied her but felt, but his resolve hardened.
No, it solidified.
I, Zeppelin Devonshire, do not love the current Rebecca.
Pity isn’t love.
He sat her before the mirror.
“Look closely, Rebecca. This is you now.”
“Hideous.”
“Yes, hideous. What husband would welcome this face? And you’re infertile.”
“…”
“My patience isn’t strong enough for a wife who can’t bear heirs and has a dreadful disease. So divorce me, Rebecca.”
She slowly raised her head.
Wanting clearer confirmation.
“So you’re abandoning me, Zeppelin?”
Her deep blue eyes, clearer than ever, made him falter.
But her foul forehead stench snapped him back.
“Yes. Hate me if you must. But remember—you abandoned me first. You ruined yourself.”
Couldn’t help it.
This family was full of things that “couldn’t be helped.”
Rebecca laughed hollowly at his blame.
Zeppelin turned away.
He didn’t want to see her anymore.
Fearing his heart might waver, he strode to the door.
Rebecca shouted at his broad back.
“You’re the one abandoning me. Regret won’t help.”
He paused, not turning.
“I won’t regret it.”
The door slammed shut.
Behind it came Rebecca’s voice, which he took for sobs.
In truth, it was laughter.
Uncontrollable laughter of joy.
I did it. I’m finally free.
But her triumphant giggles faded.
She lifted her head, exhaling bitterly.
“Then why do I feel so filthy?”
It was what she’d desperately wanted.
She’d even begged him last night, fearing he’d ruin it.
Yet this awful feeling…
Euphoria was overshadowed by disgust.
“Urk…”
She dry-heaved; nothing came up.
Smelling bitter bile, she slumped.
Was it Zeppelin’s hesitant eyes, unlike her past life’s end?
Or confirming he’d only loved her body?
Tap-tap.
Leo tapped the window as she laughed emptily.
“Leo, still here?”
Opening it, he entered with a flower in his mouth.
“A firework flower…”
Blue, red, and yellow petals bloomed like fireworks—a flower exchanged for celebrations.
Out of season and rare.
Rebecca’s smile bloomed as brightly as the flower.
“You’re right. It’s worth celebrating.”
She hugged Leo tightly; he purred.
The sound resembled Yulian’s shallow moans when stroked.
* * *
The next morning, two carriages waited before the Devonshire estate.
“Go.”
Zeppelin boarded one, face saying he refused to share with her.
Rebecca, in a high-necked black dress and veiled face, looked dressed for a funeral.
No one saw her off.
The household was busy disposing of her jewelry and clothes.
Only Grace watched her departing back from a window, forlornly.
Rebecca climbed her carriage.
She’d arrived with nothing, so leaving with nothing was proper.
Zeppelin offered alimony; she refused.
She wanted nothing of his.
The road to the grand temple was smooth.
Divorce was simple.
Vows under Goddess Defria required a priest’s permission to dissolve.
Rumors of her sainthood and divine illness had spread.
The reason was convincing enough.
The priest stamped two documents, handing one to each.
After a fortnight’s consideration, sending them to the imperial office, they’d no longer be married.
“It’s over.”
“It’s over.”
Their long marriage ended in moments.
Silence lingered.
Zeppelin glanced at her veiled face, unreadable.
“I hope you find happiness.”
A standard farewell—yet sincere.
He waited for her reply, but only heavy silence returned.
Yes. I’ll be happy. And your misery is just beginning.
Behind the veil, she hid a venomous smile.
When she stayed mute, Zeppelin sighed.
“Then…”
He left her alone.
Disbelieving, Rebecca blinked.
Then a large die rolled to her feet with a clatter.
“This…”
She picked up the heavy iron die.
Likely thrown by an excited gambler.
Holding it, she stared at Zeppelin’s retreating back.
