We Will Get Divorced: The Perfect Divorce Plan of the Sacrificial Daughter and the Cold-Blooded Soldier - Chapter 19

“My father intends to take the king’s head.”

The morning after that shocking confession, I received another breakfast invitation from Julian.

Amy, completely unaware of everything, happily brought in a basket full of hair accessories and cosmetics, dressing up my just-woken self like a glittering trophy.

Walking alone down the long corridor leading to the dining hall, each step deliberate. Julian’s words from yesterday kept running through my mind.

‘My father intends to take the king’s head.’

Julian’s confession had pierced through my body with thunderous impact,

“Good morning, my lord. It’s another beautiful morning, isn’t it?”

Then vanished with lightning speed.

“My apologies for being late. Amy wouldn’t let me go easily. Oh, extra virgin olive oil dressing. Which country’s olives are you using?”

“……”

“My lord, is something wrong?”

I asked Julian, who had frozen like a statue with his teacup raised.

“No, it’s nothing. Ask the cook about the olive oil. More importantly, I want to confirm… do you remember what I told you yesterday?”

“Of course. It wasn’t the kind of content one could easily forget.”

As I answered, I scooped up some olive oil with my mischievous little finger and tasted it. The fresh, green scent of early-harvested olives passed refreshingly through my nose.

“Delicious. I must produce olives that surpass these. It stirs my competitive spirit.”

“I see… Well, as long as you remember.”

“Then, may I ask a few questions myself, my lord?”

I wiped my little finger with a napkin and lowered my voice by one tone.

—Clear the room.

I conveyed that intention through my eyes.

“……”

At Julian’s silent instruction, the attendants withdrew.

Not yet. It’s still too early even after the door closes. Wait until the footsteps fade away. Until we’re at a distance where eavesdropping is impossible.

After a full ten seconds, I voiced one of the questions I had prepared.

“Regarding Lord Crislan’s rebellion, do you have any evidence, my lord?”

“No. He’s not the kind of man to let evidence be easily obtained.”

“Then why do you believe His Lordship has treacherous intentions?”

“Resentment toward the royal family could almost be called a tradition of the Vraogone family. No head of household could be satisfied with the royal family’s methods—denying political participation while forcing them to serve solely as the ‘wall’ against neighboring countries.”

“I see, even the Vraogone, who adhere to ‘neither bending themselves nor invading others,’ harbor such frustrations…”

“My father particularly despised that motto. That’s why he launched an attack against the neighboring country. But when ordered to surrender the territory he captured, my father must have made his decision.”

Julian, who had personally led that campaign, took a sip of water from his glass.

“My father was determined to invite His Majesty Dimitris to my and Sierra’s wedding at all costs. He spent an extraordinary amount of money and effort for that purpose. That’s when my suspicions turned to conviction.”

“Is that why you were so stubbornly against holding the ceremony? So, may I understand that you oppose the rebellion?”

“Of course.”

There was no hesitation in Julian’s reply. His blue eyes were as firm and unshakable as protective turquoise.

“I’m glad. I believed you would say that, my lord.”

I unconsciously let out the breath I’d been holding.

“In that case, I believe what we should do ultimately remains unchanged.”

“What we should do?”

“Yes, we should continue charging straight toward divorce. You said, my lord, that Lord Crislan refuses our divorce to avoid suspicion of rebellion from the royal family. Conversely, wouldn’t achieving the divorce crush the rebellion?”

“Using divorce to stop the rebellion… huh.”

His gaze shifted as if to say ‘interesting,’

“What about forcibly divorcing without obtaining permission?”

“That’s impossible.”

He rejected that outright.

“May I ask the reason?”

When I timidly asked, a shadow like dark clouds passed through Julian’s blue eyes.

“Didn’t Sierra hear it too, from behind the wall?”

Behind the wall—his exchange with Crislan from two days ago.

Indeed, there was something he’d said that had been bothering me. Though the impact of the reward money had been so strong I’d pushed it aside, Crislan’s parting words were impossible to ignore.

‘Don’t forget—I hold your weak point.’

So, Julian has a weakness that Crislan holds over him.

What kind of weakness? I hesitated to ask directly, so I conveyed the question through my gaze.

“I can’t go into details. But think of it as him holding a hostage.”

“A hostage?”

I was momentarily speechless at the unexpected answer.

To think a father would go that far against his own son. So that’s why Julian can’t openly defy Crislan’s will.

To protect the hostage, he withdrew from the battlefield as ordered, married as ordered, retreated to the countryside as ordered. Meaning, even his married life with me continues to protect someone’s life.

Could it be a woman?

‘For certain reasons, I cannot love you. So, don’t love me either.’

Julian’s words resurfaced. The words he’d spoken to me on the day we first met, the day he took me out.

That struck me with even greater impact than learning about Crislan’s rebellion.

“What’s wrong, Sierra?”

“…No, it’s nothing.”

I was just a little surprised. Surprised that I was hurt.

Why? I knew from the beginning there was no love for me. What exactly was I hoping for?

When I looked down, the leaf-motif hair accessory made a clicking sound. Sorry, Emily. Even though you made me so beautiful, it seems I still can’t meet your expectations.

I sipped the apple wine as if to wash away the indescribable bitterness spreading in my mouth. A thick sweetness spread across my tongue.

I’ll reset with this one sip.

“I understand the situation. Then let’s change our approach. Persuading Lord Crislan remains our goal. However, our objective changes from obtaining permission for divorce to making him abandon the rebellion. If he abandons the rebellion, he’ll have no reason to oppose our divorce.”

“Make him abandon the rebellion? That father of mine?”

“Yes. Of course, I also oppose His Lordship’s rebellion. No matter the reason, if the country falls into chaos, the common people will bear the burden. We must absolutely prevent this.”

“You say that so easily. Do you really think persuasion would work on that man?”

Julian made a sour face as he drank the sweet apple wine.

“That’s why I want to approach from the periphery.”

“The periphery?”

“I’ve experienced many such negotiations during my time as vice-minister. No matter how tyrannical they may seem, rulers are constrained. If the entire family opposes them, they can’t simply ignore that and act alone. Especially when it comes to war—they can’t just grab a spear and charge in alone.”

“You plan to win over my family?”

“That sounds terrible. Please say ‘become friends.’ I’m excited to make new friends. So, who in the Vraogone family is worth becoming friends with?”

“Is that how someone looking for friends talks?”

“Of course, I mean besides you and Lord Crislan.”

“…My sister and brother. My uncle and aunt are no longer with us.”

“Understood. So, if we secure two votes from your sister and brother, we win.”

“So, you think it’ll be that easy—”

Julian stopped mid-sentence and stared intently at my face.

“No, maybe it could work. Looking at you, Sierra, I’m starting to think it might be possible.”

“Leave it to me—the sacrificial lady has plenty of experience in these situations. Then let’s begin the winning over… no, let’s go make friends.”

“Which one will you approach first?”

“Let me see. Your sister, I think. We’ll make it a ladies’ tea party.”

“Understood. Zach.”

As if he’d calculated the timing perfectly, Julian finished his breakfast and called for his guard to enter.

“We’re heading to Nadine’s place. Prepare everything.”

“Na-Nadine? Which Nadine would that be?”

“It should be obvious. The ‘Empress’ Nadine.”

“…Understood.”

Empress.

That seemed like an excessively harsh nickname for one’s own sister, and judging by the deep wrinkles that appeared on Zach’s forehead, this tea party might not end as peacefully as I’d imagined.