I have begun serialization. I will quietly leave the Duke's household that I devoted five years to. By the time you realize that I was the one managing the Duchess's medicine and the territory's harvests, I will be laughing beside the Margrave.

It had been five years without a single word of gratitude. At her husband's ducal house, she had reorganized the ledgers, doubled the territory's harvest, and continued to personally compound medicine for her ailing mother-in-law. Yet her husband had never once looked her way. The one he was looking at was another woman. On the day his mistress set foot in the mansion, Seraphina left the ducal house, leaving behind only a single divorce letter. It was not anger. Nor was it sadness. She had simply come to realize, after five years, that there had never been a place for her in this house from the beginning. Her husband still does not know what will happen to the mansion now that she is gone. Under whose name were the contracts with the merchant guild? Who had been adjusting the water gates of the irrigation channels? How many people in this country could compound the medicine for her mother-in-law? Meanwhile, in the northern borderlands, there is a man who has been adding only a single line of personal note to the end of transaction documents for three years. On the wall of his study, there hung something that even Seraphina herself had nearly forgotten. A revenge that leaves no blood on her hands, and feelings left unspoken. Only she knows the answer to both.