The Answer to a Cheating (Ex)Husband is Remarriage - Chapter 4
But still, can’t the compatibility rate be raised?
The compatibility rate changes in proportion to the affection between the Holy Knight and the Purifier. So, if husband and wife worked together…
“I never intended to hide it. But Arendt, you know how things have been between us lately. You hardly ever came to see me.”
“Are you trying to blame me now?”
“Of course not.”
“Last winter, I even had to sleep with you just to heal a scratch on the back of my hand. All that, just for a trivial wound.”
Arendtert’s gaze froze over like a midwinter lake. The warmth that had been there just moments ago was gone without a trace.
“Don’t tell me you’re reluctant to step down from the position of Crown Princess? Is that it?”
“Arendt!”
At such a ridiculous accusation, Sylaria let out a shrill cry.
She had no greed or lingering attachment to the title of Crown Princess.
It sounded grand to be the Crown Princess, but in truth, she was treated as invisible within the imperial palace. So why did Arendtert insist on denigrating her like this?
“Am I just that kind of person to you?”
“How should I know what kind of woman you are?”
“We’re husband and wife.”
“That’s why I’m saying I want to end it. If not that, what. Are you worried your sister won’t be able to receive treatment anymore?”
Arendtert spoke indifferently as he approached Sylaria.
“If that’s what you’re worried about, don’t be, my love.”
His cold hand touched Sylaria’s cheek. Stroking her face with a chilly touch, he spoke softly.
“My dear sister-in-law has long since died.”
“……!”
Sylaria covered her mouth in shock.
Elenia was dead?
Arendtert had told her that Elenia was doing well in the best room at the imperial hospital.
He’d said that no outsiders were allowed in for security reasons, and that not even letters could be delivered, for the sake of her intensive treatment.
So she’d believed him. She’d trusted him.
“Wh-when…”
A faint voice slipped out from between Sylaria’s lips. Arendtert, looking at her pale face with indifference, replied,
“When? When did she die? Let’s see, was it about two months after we got married?”
Arendtert muttered, his brow furrowing as if he wasn’t even sure of the exact date.
‘Sister, congratulations on your marriage.’
Elenia’s gentle voice echoed in Sylaria’s ears. Their last words of farewell in that shabby house—those were the last memories.
Sylaria bit hard on the inside of her cheek. The cold, metallic taste spread down her throat. Her eyes turned bloodshot.
“Why… why didn’t you tell me until now?”
“If I had, you wouldn’t have been as grateful to me. You barely managed to keep purifying me as it was.”
“You needed my purification so badly, and now am I useless to you?”
Sylaria’s voice trembled thinly. Even as her face turned white and her jaw quivered with anger, Arendtert remained expressionless.
“It’s been that way for some time now, my love.”
That damned ‘my love’.
When he didn’t love her at all.
“Don’t call me that.”
Sylaria glared at him with bloodshot eyes. At that, Arendtert placed his hand on his chest and let out a theatrical sigh.
“Don’t be like that, Sellie. Have you ever considered how I feel, watching you struggle to purify me? It’s been hard for me too.”
Arendtert suddenly grabbed Sylaria’s arm. He immediately pressed his lips lingeringly to her fingers.
The sight of his wet tongue licking between her pale fingers was revolting. It felt like insects crawling on her skin, and nausea welled up inside her.
“See, Sellie? Even when we touch, nothing happens. Divorce is for our own good. For you, for me, and—”
Arendtert snapped his fingers toward the back of the bed. At that, the door to the adjoining room, connected to the bedroom, opened.
“For my lover, my Purifier. For Grizelle.”
“……!”
Sylaria gasped as she looked at the woman who entered through the open door.
The woman who had been hiding in Arendtert’s bedroom was her childhood friend, Grizelle. Grizelle smiled brightly and greeted Sylaria with a cheerful hello.
“Hi, Sellie?”
“Grizelle, you…”
Sylaria’s pupils trembled minutely. What shocked her wasn’t just that Grizelle was Arendtert’s lover.
With her chin raised slightly, Grizelle looked down on Sylaria with an air of pride—and she was conspicuously cradling her belly.
What caught Sylaria’s eyes was not only Grizelle’s dazzling dress, but the way her stomach was unmistakably rounded and swollen.
