1

"Let's get divorced," Duke Henrick Audovera said, his voice cold and detached as he slid a neatly prepared set of documents across the desk.

Veronica froze, the words cutting through the air like a blade. For a moment, she stared at the papers, her vision blurring as tears welled up in her eyes.

"Divorce?" she repeated, her voice trembling as she looked up at him, searching his face for some sign of hesitation or remorse. There was none.

"How could you be so cruel?" Her voice broke, and the first tear slipped down her cheek, followed swiftly by another. "For three years, I waited for you. I prayed for your safe return every single day. I still loved you, even though you were away."

Her hands clenched the divorce papers, trembling with raw emotion.

"Divorce? Nonsense!" She ripped the papers in half with a sharp motion, the sound echoing in the silent office. The torn pages fluttered to the floor like fallen leaves.

"I will not sign those papers!" she declared, her voice fierce despite the tears streaking her face. Without another word, she turned on her heel and stormed out, slamming the door behind her.

Unbeknownst to her, that defiant act would mark the beginning of the end—the end of the doomed life Veronica had resigned herself to.

---

Duke Henrick Audovera was a name spoken with reverence throughout the Oriviel Empire. A pillar of strength and an unwavering shield, his prowess on the battlefield solidified the empire's borders and secured countless victories against neighboring kingdoms. His unmatched skills and unyielding loyalty made him a hero in the eyes of the people—and an object of fascination among the empire's young noblewomen.

Among his admirers was Lady Veronica Cosimo, the only daughter of Marquis Cosimo. Renowned for her ethereal beauty, Veronica was a fixture of high society, envied and admired in equal measure. Yet behind her flawless exterior lay a different truth: she was an arrogant and immature woman, accustomed to having the world at her feet and the wealth to indulge her every whim.

From the moment she set her sights on the young Duke, Veronica became obsessed. No other suitor could compare to him in her eyes, and she refused to entertain the idea of anyone else. Driven by her infatuation, she pressured her father relentlessly, until the Marquis—recognizing the benefits of such a match—used his influence to push the Duke into marriage.

Though Henrick harbored no affection for Veronica, he yielded to the Marquis' demands for reasons known only to himself. Thus, the Duke and the Marquis' daughter were wed in a grand ceremony, uniting two powerful families.

But their marriage was one of convenience, not love. Shortly after their union, the empire called upon its sword once more. A war broke out, demanding Henrick's presence on the battlefield.For three long years, the Duke fought at the empire's borders, his name resounding in every victory. During these years, far from the gilded halls of high society, he encountered someone unexpected, Irene Theano, a priestess of remarkable grace and unwavering conviction.

Irene's presence on the battlefield was as striking as it was unexpected. While Henrick commanded armies and cut through enemies with his blade, Irene offered solace and healing, her faith shining like a beacon in the chaos of war.

Henrick's love for Irene burned brighter than anything he had ever known, and with every passing day, his resolve to end his marriage with Veronica grew stronger. For him, their union was nothing more than an unwanted obligation—a barrier to the future he envisioned with the woman who had captured his heart.

But for Veronica, it was the opposite. Henrick was her world, the axis upon which her life spun. Her jealousy of Irene was not born of malice, but of a desperate yearning to hold onto the man she loved so deeply.

Her desperation, however, only led to her downfall. When Irene became the target of Veronica's envy, events spiraled out of control. A confrontation left Irene gravely injured, teetering on the brink of death. Henrick, furious and protective, came to her rescue and ensured her safety.

Veronica, left with no choice, finally conceded to the divorce. She signed the papers with trembling hands, her blackened heart splintering into pieces she could never mend.

The once-proud Duchess faded from society's gaze, her name whispered only in contempt. To the world, she was a villainess who deserved her fate, and her death was celebrated as the ultimate justice.

But the truth was far more painful. Veronica had never sought power or wealth—only the love of the man who had been her everything. She had played her role poorly, not out of cruelty, but out of the sheer impossibility of being the woman he wanted.

Thus ended the life of Veronica Audovera. Not with fireworks or grand retribution, but with the quiet, mournful extinguishing of a flame that had burned too brightly, too recklessly, and far too alone.

---

"Haaa... It would've been nice if I'd remembered all of this much earlier," I muttered, staring blankly at the ceiling of my lavish bedroom. Why did my memories have to come back now? Now that I'm already married to the male protagonist.

Yes, that male protagonist.

I wasn't always Veronica Cosimo—the Duchess of Audovera and soon-to-be villainess of this story. Once, I was just an ordinary teacher, living an ordinary life. Then one fateful evening, as I was crossing the street, a bus ended my uneventful existence.

And because the universe apparently has a twisted sense of humor, I was reborn as her.

It all clicked yesterday—a single day after my husband, Duke Henrick Audovera, left for war. My memories came flooding back, painting a clear picture of the disaster I'd unwittingly stepped into.

I had read this story before. I knew exactly how it ended. The Duchess of Audovera, villainess extraordinaire, would meet her demise after her husband divorced her and married Irene Theano, the saintly heroine.

And now, I'm Veronica.

I sighed deeply, dragging a hand down my face. Why couldn't I have been reborn as a random peasant in the countryside instead? No, I just had to be the villainess. And not just any villainess—the villainess. The one who caused property damage, tormented her servants, insulted nobles, and made a complete spectacle of herself wherever she went. Oh, and let's not forget how I turned into a raging lunatic whenever anyone so much as glanced at Henrick.

It's no wonder I didn't have any friends.

Now, with my impending doom looming over me like a thundercloud, I've been scrambling to recall every detail of the novel. I need a plan—a foolproof strategy to save myself.

"Ah, whatever," I said with a dismissive wave of my hand, as if brushing off the weight of an entire storyline. "Let's just sign the divorce papers, get a massive alimony payout, and live peacefully in some faraway corner of the empire. Yeah, that's it. That's the plan. I'll be free in three years."

Who needs love, anyway? Certainly not me.

I grinned to myself, feeling a flicker of relief at my newfound resolve. "No more villainess nonsense. I'll just be the extra character who claps politely at their wedding. Yep, that's a solid plan."

For the first time since the memories resurfaced, I felt like I could breathe. I'd escape the chains of this storyline, leave the drama behind, and live a quiet, uncomplicated life.

Or at least, that's what I told myself.

"Hahahahaha..." I laughed dryly, sprawled across the chaise in my room.

Three years. It's been three years, and I'm finally ready to sign those papers. In fact, I've practiced my signature repeatedly to ensure it's perfect. When the moment comes, I'll sign with elegance and grace—maybe even add a little flourish for dramatic effect.

He came home this morning. The Duke. My husband. Or rather, my soon-to-be ex-husband.I played the part of the dutiful Duchess, of course. When the grand gates opened to welcome his return, I was there, dressed to perfection, smiling like the happiest woman alive. I even greeted him warmly, though every word tasted bitter on my tongue.

"Welcome home, Your Grace," I'd said, curtseying with a smile so practiced it could fool even the most seasoned of court ladies.

Inside, I was anything but pleased.

I'd read the novel. I knew how this scene played out. The Duke was supposed to summon me to his office immediately upon his return. There, he'd hand me the divorce papers, his voice detached and devoid of emotion.

I'd prepared for it. Braced myself for the blow.

So why, three days later, am I still waiting?

"Why hasn't he asked for a divorce?!" I groaned, pacing the length of my room like a caged animal.

This isn't how it's supposed to go! By now, I should've been halfway through planning my new, carefree life in a charming little countryside villa. Maybe sipping wine on a terrace while laughing at the memory of this wretched marriage.

Instead, I'm stuck here, drowning in confusion.

Could it be that he's waiting for the right moment? Or maybe he forgot? No, that's absurd—he's the Duke. He doesn't forget things.

I sank into a chair with a heavy sigh, my perfectly rehearsed plan unraveling before my eyes.

"Ugh, just get it over with already," I muttered under my breath, glaring at the door as if willing it to open.

The wait was unbearable. And worse, the uncertainty was starting to chip away at my resolve.