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Our White Marriage Is in Its Third Year: In Other Words, There Are Only Seven Days Left Until I Can Legally Leave You, My Lord

Seven days left until I can leave you, My Lord.

Translated by: ME

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*****

「My Lord, might I have a word with you?」

「Go ahead.」

It was another day, just like any other, devoid of change.

We held conversations, but our eyes almost never met. My brusque husband was a busy man; he was constantly poring over documents, fueling himself with nothing but light snacks he could pick up with one hand. He never took the time to actually savor his food. He was a man who lived his life by the second, constantly trimming away any perceived waste.

The Royal Minister of Finance—that is my husband, Lord Dominic Ångström. He turns twenty-six this year, but he possesses a level of dignity that makes it hard to believe he’s still in his twenties. They call him the Demon of Finance. The Devil. The Cold-Blooded Man. It’s said that even the King himself trembles under his gaze, and he is no different here at the estate.

「Regarding the business venture for the confectionery specialty shop I mentioned previously—」

「No.」

「I-I haven't even finished—」

「It is fine for you to come up with unusual sweets. I will even permit the business development. However—I will not allow a Duchess to personally bake the confections. If you wish to make them within the estate, I don't mind; I will even compromise as far as serving them at tea parties. But I cannot give you permission to sell items you have personally crafted.」

「—!」

He spoke flatly, without so much as a twitch of his eyebrows. It was true that my proposal might be unbecoming of a Duchess, but being a pâtissière had been my dream since long ago. In my previous life, I died from overwork while in the middle of saving up funds to open my own independent shop.

When I was reincarnated, I grew up as the daughter of an Earl, and since my parents were supportive of my baking, they cheered on my dream of becoming a pâtissière. But then—an engagement was arranged by royal decree, and I had no choice but to become a Duchess.

I resigned myself to it as my noble duty.

(As long as I can still bake,) I thought.

I never slacked in my duties as the lady of the house. I fulfilled my responsibilities as a noble, as a Duchess... and just like that, our loveless white marriage was entering its third year.

「...So, no matter what, you intend to oppose me becoming a pâtissière, My Lord?」

「Yes.」

The same exchange of words as always.

I lowered my eyes at the permission that remained out of reach, no matter how many times I begged. I had intended to agree if he would just compromise or offer a middle ground—but his answer hadn't changed. He had provided me with a life of luxury as a Duchess. From that position, he likely wanted to say that baking was nothing more than a trivial hobby. But for me, baking is the very joy of living.

For the sake of that joy—

Managing to suppress my emotional impulses, I let out a small sigh.

「I understand.」

「...I see.」

Without sparing me a single glance, my husband picked up his cup and took a sip of his coffee.

「Then, on our third wedding anniversary—seven days from today—I shall have us divorced.」

「...Huh?」

「In seven days, the requirements for a 'white marriage' will be met, so there should be no issue.」

「.........」

My husband's eyes went surprisingly wide, and as he tilted his cup, he ended up spilling coffee all over the table. Yet, he paid no mind to the mess and stared back at me.

I wonder how long it’s been since our eyes last met. He has beautiful, long platinum hair and silver-rimmed glasses. His eyes are a sharp yet stunning emerald green, and while he has handsome features, he looks terrifying when expressionless. I feel like prey being targeted.

Enduring the oppressive pressure that felt like it was piercing my skin, I gave voice to all my pent-up frustrations.

「It seems there is a woman at a brothel whom you visit frequently on weekends without returning home. If you have her adopted by a noble family first and then marry her as your second wife, it shouldn't cause any scandal.」

「............」

To say nothing even after I’ve gone this far... It must mean he doesn't even feel like talking to me. But since I’ve brought it up, I have to see this through!

「No matter what you say, My Lord, I will open my confectionery shop as a pâtissière. It has been my dream forever, so you—Lord Dominic—who stands in my way, are my enemy! Even if we have to clash in divorce mediation, I will absolutely leave you!」

By the end, I was just acting out of sheer desperation. I finished my piece and stormed out of the room. My husband remained frozen; he didn't even make a move to stand up, let alone try to stop me. Half of me felt relieved, while the rest was filled with disappointment, sadness, and emotions I couldn't put into words.

But I accepted that this reaction was reality. Though my vision blurred with tears, I stubbornly refused to cry.

A 'white marriage.'

About a hundred years ago, the Church revised the conditions for divorce.

The condition is met if a couple has been married for over three years without consummating the union or producing children.

The reason there had been few divorces in this country until now was due to the "Pairing System," which strongly inherited the blood of Divine Beasts.

Nobles generally enter arranged marriages, but before parents make the final decision in childhood, young boys and girls from across the country are gathered to play together. There, the parties involved would find their fiancé—their fated partner—early on. It was said that by etching a "Pair Mark," they would deepen their bond and become a devoted, harmonious couple.

However, the blood of the Divine Beasts thinned, and the pairing system was abolished. Around that time, the class divide among the nobility widened, and it became commonplace for parents to decide marriages arbitrarily. As a result, because there was no escape through divorce in these political marriages, instances of violence and bloodshed increased.

The final blow was a tragedy caused by a "throwback" to the Divine Beast origins.

It is said that, rarely, some individuals undergo a "reversion to type" during their growth into adulthood. One man underwent this throwback after marriage and rejected his wife, claiming she was not his fated partner. The woman developed a mental illness, and the man, enraged by the inability to divorce, grew violent. Ultimately, a family massacre occurred, which led to the legal recognition of white marriages.

With that background, although divorce is a scandal for the nobility, it has become taboo to openly disparage it. I’m glad I wasn't reincarnated a hundred years ago.

Rather than continuing a cycle of infidelity, domestic violence, or cold family relationships, I believe people should take the path to mutual happiness. Having the memories, knowledge, and values of my previous life, I personally don't have such a negative impression of divorce.

While there may be disadvantages to living as a noble, I intend to drop my rank and live as a commoner the moment the divorce is finalized, so it’s not a problem at all. In fact, it will be much easier than this suffocating lifestyle of worrying about constraints and social standing.

Since I have a personal business license as a merchant, I have plenty of means to support myself. As I thought, I’m much better suited to working hard than being a housewife. Besides, I have a friend who is willing to invest. Yes, I'll be fine.

Having reached that conclusion, I left the packing to my maids.

I had more books than dresses or jewels, so it looked like it would take more time than I expected. I wasn't returning to my parents' house; I was moving into a house where the first floor would be my shop and the second floor my living space. It would be best to move things out over several days. Fortunately, the head butler, Lotus, returns tomorrow, so I’ll try to get everything settled by then.

Or so I thought, but things didn't go quite that easily.

*****

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