Chapter 2
With that, Luciano turned away, his nine tails sweeping behind him in a cold, dismissive arc. He didn't look back at me even once.
I just stood there, staring at his back, and suddenly it felt like the past three years had been nothing but a dream I'd dreamed alone.
The medicine bowl slipped from my hands and crashed to the floor, splattering the bitter brew all over my skirt.
I crouched down, picking up the broken pieces one by one, not caring about the mess—until a shard sliced my finger open.
The moment blood beaded up, I heard someone gasp behind me. It was Luciano.
He might not remember me, but his body did. The second he heard me get hurt, he froze on instinct.
But he didn't look back.
He walked out of the bedroom, not even pausing for a moment.
I watched his back fade away through the doorway, glanced at the blood on my fingertip, and let out a bitter smile.
Alright. If he said it was impossible, then I was out.
Humans had managed to survive in this messed-up world for three thousand years, so I would be just fine on my own.
That night, he had his attendants deliver a divorce letter and a hundred dollars in gold.
The divorce letter was cold and harsh, his signature at the bottom so forceful that it nearly tore through the paper.
I picked up the divorce letter and read it through.
Then I picked up the pen and signed my name without a second thought.
The attendants were stunned. They probably thought I'd break down, beg, or make a scene. After all, a human woman dumped by a Celestor Orc was pretty much doomed in this world.
But I signed it clean and quick, not even a tremor in my hand.
After signing, I grabbed the luggage I'd already packed. There wasn't much to take. I left behind all the jewelry Luciano had given me over the years.
All I took was the mud-stained windbreaker I'd worn when I first arrived, and that charred piece of roast meat he'd made for me the very first time.
It was basically a lump of charcoal by now, but I'd kept it wrapped up and close to my heart all this time.
I slapped the divorce letter back into the attendant's hand. "Please express my gratitude to him, but I don't need the hundred dollars in gold. Let's just call it even for three years' worth of meals."
The attendants exchanged confused glances.
I shouldered my bag and walked out of Tharburg's gates without looking back.
Behind me, up on the highest watchtower, a silver figure stood in silence, his nine tails shivering in the night breeze.
His face looked calm, but he didn't even realize that his right hand—the one that used to do my hair every morning—was shaking.
After leaving Tharburg, I headed south. Down there, most humans lived in Velburg. It was still a vassal territory under the orcs, but at least I'd have some people like me around.
I planned to open a small clinic. After all, I actually graduated with a degree in veterinary medicine. Treating orcs was a bit out of my field, but the principles were pretty much the same.
I walked fast, partly because I was scared Luciano might change his mind and drag me back, and partly because I was afraid I'd change mine.
If I looked back and saw the city where I'd spent three years of my life, remembered the feeling of his lips on my forehead every morning, I might never be able to keep going.
On the first day, I walked forty miles and made do for the night in a rundown temple by the roadside. Nothing unusual happened.
On the second day, I walked another forty miles and crossed a mountain. By evening, I stopped to rest under a big old locust tree, but I kept feeling like something was tailing me.
I glanced back. There was nothing.
It must be my nerves. I kept moving.
On the third day, I only managed thirty miles. The path was getting tougher.
That evening, as I washed my face by a small river, I caught something in my peripheral vision—just a glimpse of something fluffy and silver-white flickering through the bushes on the other side.
It was a fox tail.
I paused for a moment and then reassured myself that orcs were everywhere in this world. Seeing a fox tail was nothing unusual.
By the fourth day, I was feeling more and more uneasy. That sense of being watched kept getting stronger, and that feeling was all too familiar. It was Luciano.
During our three years of marriage, every time he was secretly planning a surprise for me, he'd always give me that same look.
No way. He'd lost his memory. He didn't even know me anymore.
I whipped around and yelled, "Luciano, come out."
The woods were dead quiet, just the wind rustling through the leaves. Nothing.
I let out a bitter laugh, thinking I must be crazy—still acting like he cared about me, even after he threw me away.
I kept walking.
On the fifth day, I reached a canyon. If I could make it across and walk another fifty miles, I'd finally be in Velburg.
There was a winding path cutting through the canyon, steep cliffs rising on both sides. The scenery was gorgeous, but I couldn't care less.
Now I knew for sure.
About 1,000 feet behind me, nine tails were trailing along.