“Brother. Can you get out for a bit?”
Vendia Rose crossed her arms as she looked at Kalbasa, who had barged into her room without permission.
“You must’ve gotten at least something! At least one thing, right?!”
Kalbasa rummaged through her luggage like a madman, as if refusing to accept reality.
Unpacked bags spilled across the cramped room like a warehouse had exploded.
“This makes no sense. Your bank account is empty, and you didn’t get a single thing as alimony? Are you insane?!”
Finding nothing, he threw the bags into a corner and stood up.
His glare burned like a poisoned toad—rage fully activated.
It had been two days since Vendia returned to the count’s house, ignoring her father’s order to leave immediately after the divorce.
That morning, Kalbasa had gone to the central bank and checked her account.
Ridiculously, in this empire, a woman’s assets were legally considered part of her family’s property.
So now that she had returned to the count’s family, Kalbasa could access her account anytime just by proving their family relationship.
“2,000 kran?! If you were going to divorce, you should’ve at least gotten a huge settlement! Or not divorced at all!”
That was why he was now losing his mind—because her entire fortune was only 2,000 kran.
Barely enough for three meals at a decent restaurant.
Yes. She had received zero alimony.
What had Denros said again?
“You were the one who brought up divorce first. I have no fault in this matter, so do not expect alimony.”
Ah, right. He had said something so petty.
“No fault?” What nonsense.
She had tried to argue, but—
“Any objection will be handled in court.”
He had shut it down completely.
Given her family’s situation, there was no way they could afford a lawsuit against the ducal house. And since she had brought no dowry into the marriage, losing the case was obvious.
She had assumed she would at least get some compensation.
Maybe even enough for some business plot development.
“We lived together for a year, at least have some conscience, you cheap bastard.”
Business plot, my ass. She was about to starve.
She erased Denros’s face from her mind.
Now Kalbasa was screaming again.
“Because of your divorce, the business funds invested in our family are being recalled! What are we supposed to do now?!”
“Did I run a business?”
“What did you say…?”
“You borrowed the money, didn’t you? If there’s no solution, go marry a rich noblewoman, brother.”
“You little—how dare you—!”
“Ah, right, right. My mistake. You can’t do that. Rich noblewomen would line up for young handsome men, not a swollen sausage like you.”
Vendia scanned him from head to toe and snorted.
Her mother’s flashy appearance suddenly made sense.
While Vendia had been the duchess, her father and brother had been using the Kalvermer name to raise business funds everywhere.
They didn’t care how she was treated in the ducal house at all.
“…You really got divorced and lost your mind, didn’t you? How dare you talk like that!”
Smack.
“Get out.”
Smack.
“Get out.”
Smack.
“Get out, sausage.”
She tapped his mouth three times with a folding fan perfectly fitted in her hand, pushing him back.
Dealing with him even once was already exhausting.
“Hey! You little—!”
Kalbasa, stung by the unexpected attack, raised his hand threateningly.
“Gonna hit me too? Like father, like son.”
“Wha—ugh!”
Before he could strike, Vendia shoved both his shoulders hard.
He lost balance and fell backward into the hallway with a loud thud.
Bang!
Click.
She quickly shut the door and locked it.
“Open this right now! Hey! Hey!”
“Oh, right.”
“I said open—! W-what?!”
She suddenly reopened the door. Kalbasa, mid-pounding on it, flinched.
“Get it straight. I was the one who asked for the divorce.”
She clarified calmly, then shut the door again.
“GRAAAH! I swear I won’t let you go!”
His stomping footsteps echoed down the hallway as he stormed off.
“He’s definitely going to go tattle to Father again.”
Vendia sighed and sat in front of her dressing table.
“Honestly… this family revenge plot is too weak.”
She touched her chin in thought.
Objectively, she had no money, no connections.
“And now I don’t even have a husband.”
Just arguing back wasn’t revenge. It wasn’t satisfying either.
Was this even a family revenge story? Or—
“Wait… am I not the main character?”
Vendia looked into the cracked mirror of a tiny, shabby room that hardly fit a noble lady.
Golden hair like silk. Golden eyes. Soft bangs flowing naturally at her forehead.
Large eyes with deep double eyelids, long lashes like butterfly antennae, a small but elegant nose bridge, and slightly plump pink lips.
A delicate, balanced face—an oval-shaped beauty.
“I am pretty though…”
But compared to her ex-husband’s face, maybe she wasn’t the protagonist.
He looked like someone who literally had “male lead” written on his face.
“Forget it.”
Nothing made sense anymore.
Then she frowned.
“But… are they really my family?”
She narrowed her eyes at the mirror.
She had memories of childhood, but no matter how she looked at it, she didn’t resemble her parents or Kalbasa at all.
Then again, they didn’t even share personalities.
Feeling uneasy, she got up to go outside.
The room she had lived in before marriage was a shabby attic room.
“I wouldn’t even give this to a head maid.”
She muttered as she climbed down the ladder.
Passing through the corridor toward the main hall, she heard voices.
Mumbling. Arguing.
It was coming from her father’s office.
Kalbasa and their father were clearly inside.
She quietly cracked the door open and pressed her ear against it.
“Father! She’s insane! She even hit me! Look at my swollen lips!”
Kalbasa’s voice complained loudly.
It sounded like he’d been beaten half to death over a few fan taps.
“If this spreads, my marriage prospects are ruined! Especially with that divorce history—!”
“Enough.”
“Father!”
“I’ve already checked.”
Vendia frowned and listened more closely.
“The Saxen Marquis. You know him.”
“The old man with four mistresses?”
“Yes. All of them of unclear origin. He wants a proper noble wife. Vendia’s divorce history doesn’t matter.”
“Then how much for the marriage—?”
“Two million kran.”
“That would solve our problems.”
“Yes. He’s visiting in two weeks. We’ll send her off then.”
“She won’t agree.”
“She will. I’ll make sure of it. She’s already disgraced the family enough.”
Click.
Vendia closed the door silently.
‘So that’s how it is? I just got divorced and they’re already trying to sell me again?’
And without her consent.
Her blood boiled.
No. Absolutely not.
If things went like this, then according to her romance-novel experience, she needed to escape the family with a contract marriage or something.
But she had already done a contract marriage before.
“Do I really have to do another one?”
She wandered down the corridor, deep in thought, when someone called her.
“U-um… Lady Vendia?”
She turned.
A young maid stood there cautiously, looking nervous. She wore the count’s household uniform.
“What is it?”
“I’m going to Soho Street for errands… I was wondering if you needed anything.”
A newcomer. That explained why she wasn’t ignoring Vendia like the others.
“I’m fine.”
“Ah, yes! Then I’ll be on my way.”
The maid bowed and left.
Soho Street. A district filled with shops—one of the empire’s three major markets.
Then—
Wait.
“Hey.”
“Yes? Do you need something?”
“No. Come with me.”
Vendia smiled faintly.
They walked through the streets.
“Um… Lady Vendia, if you tell me what you want to buy, I can check the shops for you.”
“I’m not buying anything.”
Vendia scanned every alley without looking at the maid.
She had learned her name on the way—Shasha. A year younger than her, and new to the household.
“Then why are we looking around… are you searching for something?”
“A mad dog.”
“P-pardon?”
Shasha startled.
“No, not a real dog.”
“Then what…?”
“A man.”
Vendia stopped walking.
“He’ll be near market entrances, dark alleys, or trash piles. Dirty, unkempt hair, skinny like he’s been starving.”
“…A man?”
Shasha looked confused.
“But the important part is this—despite that appearance, he has to shine. Like he’s glowing. The kind of face that makes you think if he cleans up, he’ll be unbelievably handsome.”
Vendia’s eyes lit up.
“If you find him, tell me.”
Then she started searching again.
Because this might just be—
A “pick up the male lead” reverse-story.