The waiting was always the hardest part.
Anastasia Hoshin sat by the grand bay window of her study, watching the rain streak across the glass in long, deliberate lines. She forced herself to breathe slowly—in through her nose, out through her mouth—just as her tutors had taught her years ago to manage high-stakes negotiations.
She needed to stay calm. There was nothing to be done until they arrived, so the only rational course of action was to rest, mentally prepare, and maintain complete composure for the moment Julius and Rem stepped back through the mansion's front doors.
Over the past few days, she had actively tried to relax. She practiced her breathing. She even tried to find it in her heart to forgive Rem. After all, Julius was a remarkable man—a paragon of knightly grace and devotion. It was only natural, almost inevitable, that a fragile soul like Rem would falter and yield to his presence. Anastasia didn't hold that against her.
In fact, Anastasia felt a strange, almost maternal pity for both of them.
She knew how Julius would act when he returned. He was a proud man, a perfect gentleman on the outside, and in front of Rem, he would undoubtedly put on a show of strength. He would raise his voice. He would use dramatic words. He would probably even demand a divorce.
Pure theater, she thought with a soft, bitter smile.
What would Julius even do without her? He was brilliant with a sword and immaculate in court, but when it came to the cold, harsh realities of life and management, he was practically a child. She had built his world. She had provided the structure, the funding, the direction—she had even orchestrated the situation with Rem for him. If she allowed him to leave, his life would collapse into aimless chaos. He couldn't survive without her steady hand guiding him, whether he realized it or not.
She knew he was prone to foolish pride. He had even shown flashes of absurd jealousy whenever her name was linked in business with Subaru. Anastasia chuckled quietly to herself at the irony. If Julius only understood the sheer scope of what she had arranged—the absolute, selfless sacrifices she had made for his desires—he would realize how absurd his grandstanding really was.
To pass the long hours of isolation, Anastasia had taken up painting again.
She spent hours in the quiet corner of her studio, applying layer after layer of oil to canvas. The artwork was not a landscape or a portrait of nobility; it was a disturbing visual manifesto of her possessiveness. She rendered Rem and Julius bound together in an intimate, restrictive tableau—Rem wearing a modified maid's uniform bearing the prominent logo of the Hoshin Trading Company, trapped within the lines of Anastasia's artistic control.
To Anastasia, the canvas wasn't vulgar; it was a blueprint. It was proof of ownership, a visual promise of the future she was engineering.
If Rem was going to bear a child—a daughter, perhaps, to carry on a legacy within these walls—Anastasia was entirely prepared to be a wonderful, forgiving mother to it. She wanted it so deeply it made her chest ache. If Rem ultimately chose to leave after fulfilling that purpose, Anastasia would grant her freedom. She genuinely cared for Rem, viewing her as a dear friend, almost a sister. But sacrifices had to be made for the greater good of the household.
"I just hope he doesn't ruin it," she whispered into the empty room, her eyes fixed on the drying paint. She felt a familiar knot of worry in her stomach. Julius was so rigid, so bound by his code, that he might fumble the entire arrangement out of misguided guilt.
Though Anastasia had never considered herself particularly devout, she found herself praying. She visited the local chapel dedicated to the Divine Dragon, kneeling in the quiet sanctuary to lay out her heart. She admitted her flaws to the silent altar. She acknowledged that she might have been a little harsh, perhaps a bit too forceful with Rem, but it was all driven by a higher purpose. It was for the preservation of her home and her family. She prayed fervently that any child born from this grand design would be healthy and strong.
When she returned to the manor, the atmosphere was suffocatingly tense.
The household staff moved like ghosts, whispering in hushed tones behind closed doors. Anastasia had noticed the way the senior maid looked at her earlier when carrying out the tea tray. The maid's eyes had lingered for a split second on the uncovered canvas in the studio, her face draining of color before she quickly bowed and hurried out without a word.
Anastasia didn't care. Let them be unsettled. Let them whisper. They were simple people who couldn't comprehend the immense weight she carried or the complex foundation she was laying.
If Rem truly intended to step into her shoes, Anastasia was even willing to make room for that possibility. It was a painful thought—the idea of being replaced—but Anastasia was nothing if not pragmatic. Rem would need a legitimate place to raise a child. If Rem proved capable of handling the documents, managing the estate, and taking on the heavy administrative burdens of the Hoshin name, Anastasia might even allow it... provided Rem took her name, dressed according to her standards, and acted precisely as Anastasia would.
The heavy silence inside the Dragon Chapel was the only thing that gave Anastasia a sense of control. Before the grand, carved relief of the Divine Dragon, she knelt on the polished stone, her hands tightly clasped.
In her mind, her heart was pure. She was the victim here—the one who had been betrayed, misunderstood, and forced to carry an agonizing burden.
"I forgive her," Anastasia whispered into the empty, cold chapel, her voice echoing softly against the high ceilings. "Even after everything... even after she betrayed my trust and ruined what we had, I forgive her. She was like a sister to me."
A sudden wave of regret pinched at her chest. If she had known how things would turn out, she wouldn't have sent Yae to join them that night. She should have gone to the hot springs herself. But it didn't matter now. What was done was done.
She looked up at the stone dragon, her eyes wide, shining with an eerie, unblinking intensity.
"I love Julius," she continued, her voice trembling with a mixture of devotion and quiet rage. "I get angry at him, and I get angry at Rem for being a homewrecker, but I still forgive her. I can't imagine my life without Rem in Julius's life. Why can't she just... become like me? I was willing to give her my name. I was willing to give her my wealth. She would just have to accept a new identity, but it's a fair trade. She'd be replacing a pathetic husband with a real man like Julius."
Anastasia bowed her head lower, resting her forehead against her folded hands.
She knew what the servants were saying. She had seen the way they whispered in the corridors, the terrified, bewildered glances they exchanged when they saw the portraits she had painted in her study. They called her crazy behind closed doors. But they were ignorant. They didn't understand the foundation she was laying. She was preparing a home for Julius and Rem. She was preparing the estate for the reality of Julius taking a mistress.
She began to recite her prayer, her voice rising in a desperate, delusional chant:
"Grant me Patience to endure Rem's anger... Give my mind Chastity against her lustful urges toward my husband... Give me Temperance to endure her gluttony in this affair... Give me the strength to maintain Charity even when she acts like a leech upon my generosity... Let me remain Diligence in building this family while she sloths around... Give me the strength to show Kindness to that envious bitch who tried to steal my husband... And let me stay Humble, even though she is the one who needs humility—acting so proud, as if having a husband was an excuse not to run after Julius!"
A flash of heat flared behind her eyes, her breath catching in her throat as anger briefly shattered her calm demeanor. But she forced a deep, shuddering exhale, smoothing down her skirt.
"No," she muttered to herself, soothing her own mind. "I forgive her. I will let her have Julius. It is for Julius's sake."
She looked up at the ceiling, shivering as a sudden, icy chill swept through the chapel. She felt entirely alone. She pressed her palms together, silently running through every argument, every debate, and every scenario she had rehearsed over the last two days. She was ready. She had logical answers for every accusation Rem could throw at her. She would prove that everything she had done was right.
A servant rushed into the chapel, bowing nervously without meeting her eyes. "Lady Anastasia... the carriage. It has entered the estate grounds."
Anastasia's heart fluttered. "My lovely Julius... he's finally home."
She stood up, composed her posture, and walked out to the grand courtyard, flanked by the line of trembling servants. The carriage pulled to a heavy stop, kick-starting a cloud of dust.
When the door opened, Anastasia took a deep breath, stepping forward with an open, welcoming expression.
Rem was the first to step down. Her face was flushed deep red, her breathing heavy and jagged.
Anastasia opened her mouth, extending a hand. "Welcome home—"
She never finished the sentence.
Before Anastasia could even process the movement, Rem closed the distance in a blur. Rem's fist swung with the full force of her body, shattering the air and cracking heavily against Anastasia's jaw.
The impact lifted Anastasia off her feet. For a split second, the world tilted upside down—sky, stone, and screaming servants blurring into a dizzying streak—before she crashed violently onto the hard cobblestones.
Darkness flooded the edges of her vision as her mind reeled from the impact. The last thing Anastasia heard before slipping into unconsciousness was the chaotic sound of boots rushing across the gravel, and Julius desperately tackling Rem back, holding her violently trembling frame as Rem screamed through raw, blood-curdling tears:
"I'LL KILL YOU! I'LL KILL YOU, ANASTASIA!"
Then, everything went black.