Divorce Manual

Chapter 1

The duke's funeral was very pitiful. Compared to the notoriety of the iron-blooded devil, it was a small and mediocre funeral.

It seemed that most of the people on the duke's side had died or switched side, but in the end, it was terrible ending for a man who had lost his power.

The duke's estate and his royal edict, which had been passed down for generations, were confiscated under the command of the new emperor, and the larger portion of his estate was already abandoned by the Duchess.

He had lost everything, except for a small, shabby cabin in the small forest called Lapel where the Wicking people first lived. His wealth, power, and even his loved ones that supported him, all were gone. It was the end of a man who lost all the splendor of the world and ended up being carried in a shabby wooden coffin.

However, unlike the horrible funeral, his face was calm and peaceful.

Indeed.

A man who lived all his life on the hellish battlefields and political field had died with his sword in it.

It must be nice.

"My love."

She held her breath, and put her lips against his cold cheeks. Then the duchess raised herself up, holding onto the corner of the coffin. When she leaned forward, the coffin seemed wider and bigger than it was.

"Your grace."

A man, who was part of the duke's regiment, came closer to Abella and helped her.

"Sir Dane."

He had an unpleasant scent, similar to wine, the moment he arrived at Lapel, and described himself as a close member of the duke's household. Everyone has died. I'm the only survivor, he thought quietly. All of his confidants, who were knights, were killed by the main army, and he survived to make funeral preparations for them.

When I'm done, I'll follow them.

I'm sorry, your grace.

His distorted expression, his crying and biting of his lips, felt sincere. As soon as the funeral is over, I'll throw myself into that vast sea. Maybe it's the look of determination in his eyes, the duchess accepted him without asking anything. To be honest, there was no need for a reason. He came back with the duke's body.

"Your grace."

The duchess turned toward Sir Dane. "What happened?"

She, who managed to suppress the nausea from the disgusting scent of his body, bit her lips when she saw a yellow stain between his slightly open lips.

Was he laughing?

He was like a heifer that had forgotten that he was the funeral of his lord, the person he was going to give up his life for. It was a smile that can be only seen up close.

"Sir Dane." The duchess bit her lips and pulled herself away from him. "Are you laughing?"

"No, your grace, that's not possible." He shook his head quickly, pulling himself together even though he was smiling at ridiculed in her tone.

With his mouth shut, she shook off the coat that he last touched. He looked at her strangely as if she was the one that had laughed instead. "Please behave."

As if touching something dirty, the duchess dropped the handkerchief to the floor and trampled on it.

"Everyone." With an arrogant smirk, he turned his head to the knights standing behind him. Then he said a short and simple statement. "Please respectfully serve the duchess well."