"It is not grave robbery. The Countess left the tomb of her own accord and departed."... Cecilia, the mistress of the Winterhall family, had a habit of saying: "I'm going to die." And every time, her husband, Davion, gave the same reply: "Stop joking. I told you it wasn't funny." Yet one day, she truly died. Following the Countess's sudden demise came a shocking discovery: a week later, her grave was empty. Having deceived everyone with a witch's potion, Cecilia at last attained absolute freedom. "My plan is quite simple. First, I intend to do all the things that were forbidden in that damned household. Like drinking alcohol, just as I am doing now." Emptying her glass in one go, Cecilia let out a refreshing sigh. However, the moment she heard the next question, her expression darkened... "Ah... My husband?" After a brief moment of thought, she shrugged nonchalantly. "That man once described me as the blot on his life." "......" "He's probably forgotten all about someone like me and is living it up just like before, right?" * * * No. Cecilia was completely unaware. Just how ruthless a husband who had buried his own wife with his own hands could become. And just how far he was willing to self-destruct.