Chapter 89
“Comradeship, huh? I suppose that’s possible.”
Julian fell silent in thought, and the two of them continued up the hill without another word.
The whisper of grass brushing against the wind filled the quiet, carrying a strange tension.
It was a sound Rebecca heard every day—yet tonight, the field’s song felt different.
Maybe it was because of the man walking beside her.
Rebecca couldn’t stop glancing at Julian, who had fallen uncharacteristically quiet.
He kept clenching and unclenching his hands, the tendons standing out, then disappearing. Even the deep crease between his brows was unfairly beautiful.
Rebecca recalled the moment she had jumped from the balcony earlier that night.
It could have been her death, and yet—at the sound of Julian’s voice, she’d been certain she would make it.
And when she saw his strong arm and broad shoulder stretched out toward her, all her doubt vanished.
Her feet had moved before she could think, leaping into his arms like a moth drawn to flame. Foolish, reckless—utterly irrational.
But once again, he had saved her.
It had felt like magic.
Even now, she could still feel the comfort that had washed over her when she buried her face in his chest.
His pounding heartbeat seemed to echo still in her ears.
“A magician…”
In every fairy tale she had loved as a child, the hero always had a magician at his side.
The magician revived the fallen hero and rescued him from traps and monsters.
Without the magician, the hero could never have slain the dragon or freed the princess in the tower.
As she was lost in that thought, soft lights began to flicker around Julian.
A mesmerizing cluster of tiny glows wrapped around him in a swirl of golden dust.
Rebecca blinked and rubbed her eyes.
Was he… really casting magic?
“They’re fireflies,” Julian said gently. “They come out around this time of year. Looks like they came right on cue.”
When Rebecca lowered her hand, she saw him smiling softly, a flickering firefly resting on his palm.
“Yes,” he murmured. “Maybe now’s not such a bad time after all.”
Before she could ask what he meant, Julian suddenly knelt down on one knee.
He reached inside his coat and pulled out a small box.
When he opened it, Rebecca forgot to breathe.
Inside was a teardrop-shaped diamond ring that gleamed even among the fireflies’ light.
“Rebecca Obelia,” he said quietly. “Will you be my wife?”
The scene felt unreal. Rebecca blinked slowly, her gaze unfocused on the velvet night sky dusted with stars, the fireflies weaving between them like blessings.
And in that perfect stillness, she could hear Julian’s tense, uneven breaths.
It was like a dream.
Her heart pounded as if this moment were made only for her.
If not for one thing—it would have been the most romantic proposal she could ever imagine.
Her joy faded, replaced by calm understanding.
But this is all pretend.
The warmth in her chest went cold.
Rebecca reached out and gently took Julian’s hand, her expression serene.
“Thank you, Julian,” she said softly. “I will. I’ll be your wife.”
Julian looked up, a bit taken aback by how composed she seemed.
“Well? Aren’t you going to put the ring on the bride’s hand?”
She extended her delicate fingers toward him.
Julian smiled faintly and slid the ring onto her left hand.
Rebecca looked down at the diamond and murmured, “I’ve never seen one this big before.”
“Someone told me the bigger, the better,” he replied lightly. “Do you like it?”
“I do. I like it.”
After a small pause, she spread her arms playfully.
“Normally, this is when the couple seals it with a passionate kiss.”
Julian froze mid-motion, looking at her with wide, hopeful eyes.
Rebecca smiled faintly.
“But since we’re friends, let’s settle for a friendly hug instead.”
Then she threw her arms around him.
It was all she could give him—the warmest truth she dared express.
“You’re too kind,” she murmured. “It’s just a contract marriage, and yet you’ve gone to such lengths for me.”
“That’s not it…”
It wasn’t. He wanted to shout that it wasn’t kindness or obligation.
But he stopped himself.
If it wasn’t kindness, then what was it?
Why had he spent weeks searching for the perfect ring, the perfect place?
Just wanting to see her smile didn’t feel like a full answer anymore.
“Thank you, Julian. I’m really happy,” she said again.
And seeing her truly smile, Julian thought—maybe the reason didn’t matter at all.
If she was happy, then it was enough.
He tightened his embrace.
Rebecca tilted her head up, unable to speak.
If she said anything now, he would notice she was crying.
She had sworn she wouldn’t cry anymore, and yet Julian always managed to undo her resolve.
He made her want to be honest.
But honesty was a luxury she couldn’t afford.
It hurt so much she wanted to promise herself—if there were a next life, she would never meet him again.
Her lips trembled.
Still, when this long embrace ended, she would have to smile.
She had to smile so he wouldn’t be hurt.
“Shall we head back?” she said quietly.
Julian nodded and let her go.
The warmth in his arms vanished all at once, leaving an emptiness he couldn’t explain.
He pressed a hand to his chest as if to hold onto it—missing entirely the way Rebecca quickly wiped away her tears.
“Big sister!”
The bright lights of the Obelia estate drew closer, and two small figures came running toward them—Livia and Helena, barefoot in their nightgowns.
“Your Grace!”
Helena followed, breathless. If Danae had seen the two running barefoot across the field, she would have scolded them senseless.
“What are you two doing up?” Rebecca said, her voice half-chiding, half-affectionate.
“How could we sleep when we were worried about you?” Livia said, grinning.
“Wait—sister! On your hand…”
Helena’s eyes widened like a startled rabbit as she spotted the ring on Rebecca’s finger.
“Duke Julian! You did it!” Livia squealed. “Helena, look at that diamond!”
Rebecca turned to Julian with a faint smile—it seemed her sisters were the ones who’d told him bigger diamonds were better.
“I thought your sisters might know you better than anyone,” Julian said, rubbing his ear awkwardly.
Rebecca was about to reply when Helena interrupted, bouncing in excitement.
“So you’re getting married?”
“Really?” Livia asked, eyes shining.
Rebecca exchanged a glance with Julian. His eyes softened—the kind of smile she had always loved.
Rebecca crouched down to meet her sisters’ gaze.
“Yes,” she said warmly. “We’re getting married. Would you two be my bridesmaids?”
The sisters stared at each other before erupting into cheers loud enough to wake the whole house.
Soon, they were enthusiastically debating what kind of wedding gown Rebecca should wear, and what dresses they themselves would choose.
Leaving them to their excitement, Rebecca walked over to Julian.
“The wind’s getting cold. You should head home,” she said.
For a moment, Julian wished “home” meant this house—her house.
But that was a dream he couldn’t have.
He smiled faintly. “All right. Sleep well, Rebecca. Sweet dreams.”
Wedding preparations moved swiftly.
Julian had, in fact, been planning it quietly for some time, so there wasn’t much left to do.
Now the only thing that remained was choosing the venue.
And the place they were heading to now—the Salon Lavonne—was the one Rebecca had long imagined as her perfect ceremony hall.
“Nervous?” Julian asked, noticing her clenching and unclenching her fists.
That morning she’d been practically glowing with excitement, but as they neared the salon, she had grown subdued.
“Don’t worry. I’m sure your mother finished everything beautifully,” he said gently.
He thought her tension came from business concerns.
Rebecca blinked, snapping out of her thoughts, and hastily picked up the wedding checklist Julian had meticulously prepared.
“You’re right. I’m sure she did well…” she said, forcing a smile as the papers fluttered in her hand.
Julian pretended not to notice but glanced at the list as the pages turned.
“You know,” Rebecca said with a small laugh, “you could seriously make a career out of being a wedding planner.”
Julian exhaled in mock exhaustion, though he looked pleased by the compliment.
“I’ve always been good at everything I do,” he said lightly, eyes glinting.
And he wasn’t wrong.
The schedule, the orchestra, even the tiniest decorations—everything was planned down to the last detail.
What surprised Rebecca most was that he had done it all himself, without any help from Croa.
She was starting to realize how surprisingly meticulous Julian could be.
“I mean, it’s my own wedding,” he said. “I should handle it personally, don’t you think?”
Rebecca chuckled. “I must have chosen the right husband after all. I was dreading all this planning, but you’ve done everything perfectly. When did you even find the time?”
“You said you wanted to marry me as soon as possible,” Julian replied. “Since I have more time and money than you, it made sense for me to handle it. Efficiency, you know.”
He sipped his chilled raspberry tea and added with a faint smile, “And… honestly, I enjoyed it.”
“Hm?”
“Ah, nothing. Just talking to myself,” he said quickly, turning away when she looked at him with wide eyes.
There was no event that demanded more elegance and attention to detail than a wedding—and for someone like Julian, who took pride in presentation, this was almost like play.
Designing Rebecca’s wedding dress, especially, had been one of his greatest pleasures.
He made a mental note to meet with Sandra soon to show her his design sketches.
“I really love it,” Rebecca said, tracing her fingers over the architectural sketch of the venue. “It’s unlike anything else in the Empire—elegant but not excessive.”
Hearing her praise, Julian smiled, his eyes warm.
Her delight made all his months of effort worthwhile.
“Take a look at the orchestra list, too,” he said, leaning in close. “That part gave me quite a headache.”
He spoke with such earnest enthusiasm, sitting right beside her, that he looked almost like a child proudly showing his mother something he’d made.
Rebecca couldn’t help but laugh.
