Honey, Why Can’t We Get a Divorce?

"Ugh."

I stretched and tried to open my eyes. I was tired in many ways because I went through a lot yesterday. My body feels heavy.

But I couldn't sleep all the time, so I had to get up.

"Hoam."

I yawned and naturally turned my head to the side. The bed is empty. Seeing that I couldn't feel the warmth at all, Sylvester didn't even come in at all at dawn. 

‘I feel a little bad.'

He dragged me along one day, saying we'd be sharing the same room! Are you saying you're sick of it now? If you're going to do that, please just let me go back to my room!

I snorted, pouting my lips. 

"Where is Sylvester?"

I asked Irene, who came in to help me in the morning. Irene answered. 

"From what I know, he's having breakfast."

"Is that so?'

I brushed my messy hair and raised my eyebrows. 

"Then just wipe my ace. I'm going to see my husband." 

In my words, Irene hurriedly wiped my face, roughly arranged my hair, and then changed my clothes.

After finishing the rough decoration, I quickly walked toward the dining room. Just in case Sylvester could have left. 

When I opened the door of the dining room, I saw Sylvester sipping coffee. 

I walked to him. 

"Ophelia?"

Sylvester looked at me with a little surprised look. 

"What's the matter?"

The question was a little bit shameless. I answered by sitting next to him. 

"We don't necessarily have to talk about something, do we?"

"No way. You always talked to me only when something happened." 

"It's a mistake. I've never done that."

I answered firmly. 

Sylvester nodded as he put down the coffee cup he had lifted. 

"So, did you come to see me to chat?" 

"No. It's not like that—"

I swallowed my saliva. 

"I came because I had something to say." 

"See? I told you I was right." 

Sylvester said with a big smile.

"Tell me. What is it?"

Hmm. 

Is it a mistake if I feel Sylvester is a little strange? 

How should I say this? 

Originally, he was rude, but today's Sylvester feels a little less rude. I think it was because of his strangely cold attitude. 

Why are you suddenly saying this? 

I kicked my tongue while looking at the really unpredictable Sylvester. But I couldn't scold him because I had a favor to ask of him. 

I opened my mouth carefully. 

"I want you to hide that my black magic is strong."

I didn't know I would say this, but Sylvester's eyes got a little bigger. 

"Why do you say that?" 

"The more I become known to be strong, the more dangerous I will be." 

I said what I had been thinking all morning. 

"The reason I was able to get through this time was because Fleur thought I was weak. That's why she thought I was going to die at this rate. But I came back alive, fortunately."

"Yeah. Because you're strong."

"Yes, but if it becomes known that I am strong—"

"It means that an attack with a higher level than now could come in." 

"That's right."

As I said, yesterday was a mistake because Fleur didn't know exactly my strength. But what if Fleur finds out that I'm this strong?

Then it was obvious that a higher level of attack would come in. And I'm trying to stop that. 

"So, wouldn't it be better to hide my power to protect me?" 

"But didn't you show your strength a while ago?" 

"Are you talking about the mercenary incident? At that time, not even half of yesterday's power was used. I think that's fine." 

"But." Sylvester continued, narrowing his forehead slightly. "Aren't there many invitations that came to you? Are you going to reject all of them?

He means the people who want to use my black magic.

As soon as I heard it, I smiled. 

"That's not it. I'm thinking of accepting some." 

Last night, while searching through the invitation because I couldn't sleep, I found that the major characters from the original reached out to me. 

Then what should I do?

Of course I should use it. 

"Instead, on the condition that they should keep it secret. It's usually difficult to tell and find a black wizard, so they'll keep it secret." 

"That's true, too."

"Yes."

I leaned forward in response. 

"What do you think?"

Sylvester slowly raised his eyes. And he made eye contact with me. 

"I have a question."

"Say it."

"Why are you asking me this?"

Whoa. 

That's really not a helpful answer to my question. Why is he asking this? 

I laughed in vain because I was speechless. And I answered.

"Because I trust you."

"—What?"

"Because I believe you'll give me good advice." 

Even before I finished talking, Sylvester's face was distorted.

Why? Did I make a mistake?

*****

Sylvester was greatly embarrassed by Ophelia's answer. 

She trust me? 

Me? 

Sylvester declared only yesterday that he did not believe in Ophelia. But Ophelia says she believes in him. 

What a funny situation this is! 

Sylvester laughed in vain. Then Ophelia's eyes drooped.

"Why are you laughing?"

She said with a displeased look. 

"Is what I'm saying funny? I'm saying this from the bottom of my heart." 

Sincerely?

Sylvester snorted again. 

"Do you know what it means to trust me?"

"Yes?"

“Even if I kill someone close to you or break something you care about, it means that you still believe in me and follow me.” 

He looked at Ophelia with a strange flash of blue eyes.

"Can you do that?"

The silence subsided for a while between Sylvester and Ophelia. Ophelia breathed heavily and slowly lowered her eyes. Then she suddenly looked up at him.

"Can you do that?"

"What?"

“Can you kill the people next to me, or destroy the things I love?” 

"Why can't I do it?"

To Sylvester's question, Ophelia answered, twisting her lips. 

"Because I'm going to stop that."

Sylvester laughed in vain. Because he really didn't expect this answer to come back.

"You really can't be beaten." 

"That's my charm."

Ophelia smiled and answered back. Indeed, Ophelia has always been an unexpected woman.

So—.

‘I started to like her.'

Sylvester, who was thinking, frowned. He declared that he wouldn't like Ophelia, and now he's thinking like this.

No way. It shouldn't be like this. 

Sylvester briefly clicked his tongue with a sigh.

"I'll hide your power. I can just say that I arrived on time and solved everything yesterday."

"Please do that."

"And." He flicked his index finger and said. "I'm keeping my hands on the Countess of Fleur for now."

"Yes? Why?"

Ophelia, who was thinking of destroying Fleur at the opportunity, asked, narrowing her forehead. 

"I told you, I'll take care of it." 

Sylvester answered casually.

"I don't just let things bother me." 

Sylvester's face looked so creepy and cruel. To the point where it makes the viewer nervous. But whoever Ophelia is. She wasn't nervous at all. 

"Then I'll leave it up to you. It's comfortable for me. Because you're the one who works hard." 

Rather, she even joked at Sylvester. 

Sylvester nodded and laughed in vain again. 

‘She's a woman with a big liver.' (It means she has a lot of guts to try.) 

Sylvester judged Ophelia that way. A slightly relaxed atmosphere filled the gap between them. In other words, the strange chill and strange tension that filled the seat earlier have disappeared. So Ophelia could be a little comfortable. 

However, the situation changed rapidly as Neil came in.

"Well, Your Excellency, and Madam."

Neil, who entered the dining room, said, putting down a letter in front of Ophelia. 

"His Highness the Crown Prince has sent you a letter."

"His Highness?"

"Yes."

He replied. 

"He ordered to bring the Madam to the Crown Prince's Palace right away—"

Ugh. 

Even before Neil's words were over, the teaspoon Sylvester held was bent.