Chapter 25
Serene’s cheerful energy was so infectious that even Agnès eventually laughed.
“You know, the man who came to propose to me today was actually really interesting,” Serene said with a giggle. “He’s a performer from a traveling circus! He brought a bird that could dance like a person and even fetch things—”
“What story is amusing you so much?”
“Oh my, sister!” Serene cried, turning toward the new arrivals. “Look who’s here—our noble and adorable Crown Prince! You must hear this one!”
Agnès quickly bowed in greeting to the Emperor and the young prince, but the Emperor waved his hand dismissively, signaling that formality wasn’t necessary.
The twelve-year-old Crown Prince standing beside him was still more boy than monarch—shy, curious, and far from the commanding presence of his father.
He gave Agnès a polite nod before hiding halfway behind the Emperor’s back.
But when Serene launched into her lively story about the performing bird, even the Emperor and Crown Prince found themselves listening with interest.
The image of a bird dancing and fetching objects was entertaining, even to Agnès—but she couldn’t help wondering if it was really appropriate to chat so freely at a royal engagement ceremony.
She glanced around for Dylan, intending to ask him quietly, when the Duke appeared from the side chamber—accompanied by the High Priest.
Agnès immediately straightened and bowed to the High Priest, who returned the gesture with a deep nod, as if acknowledging her as part of the imperial family already.
Startled, Agnès turned to Dylan for guidance—just as the High Priest’s stern voice echoed through the hall.
“To think that the three most noble members of the Empire would leave their places to gossip so carelessly! Shame on you!”
Even being scolded, the Emperor and Serene simply looked at each other and stifled laughs.
The High Priest, who usually seemed so solemn and distant, now looked more like a kindly uncle scolding mischievous children. He must have known the imperial siblings since they were young.
Even Dylan pressed a hand to his forehead with a sigh, unable to intervene.
Only the young Crown Prince seemed truly nervous, glancing between the adults with wide eyes.
Agnès caught his anxious expression and smiled sympathetically.
The lecture dragged on so long that the engagement ceremony itself began to feel more like a sermon.
Finally, though, the High Priest seemed to remember the occasion. Taking both Dylan’s and Agnès’s hands, he offered his blessing.
“I asked the goddess to reveal your future,” he said warmly. “The holy water flowed smoothly—signifying harmony. You will bring each other great happiness.”
For the first time that day, Agnès felt her tension ease and smiled sincerely.
It wasn’t a marriage born from love—but that didn’t matter.
She was grateful to Dylan, respected him, and he had always treated her with courtesy.
Surely they could make good partners.
After the blessing, the Emperor clapped Dylan on the shoulder with a grin.
“Congratulations, little brother. So, what are your plans before the wedding?”
“Your Majesty,” Dylan said dryly, “even in a private setting, it’s unseemly for an emperor to behave like a street ruffian.”
“Ruffian? Me?” The Emperor scoffed. “You’re lucky you didn’t see what Serene did to your fiancée earlier!”
“Serene is merely a princess,” Dylan replied calmly. “You, however, are the Emperor of this Empire.”
The Emperor sighed dramatically, plugging his ears.
“Yes, yes, Duke of Basteron, ever the model of propriety. Still, I do congratulate you. You’ll be married in a few months, yes? Try not to spend all that time hiding away. Come visit your lonely sister once in a while.”
“I’ll be busy.”
“What? You’d turn down me?”
Dylan didn’t hesitate. “I’m preparing the best wedding gift in the world for my fiancée. I’m afraid that won’t leave much time for social visits.”
“The best in the world?” The Emperor stroked his chin, eyes narrowing playfully. “And what exactly would that be?”
A moment later, realization dawned on his face.
“Ah,” he said softly, smiling for once without sarcasm.
He reached out and ruffled the young Crown Prince’s hair with affection.
“Of course. That would be the greatest gift of all.”
The boy blushed, embarrassed but pleased by his father’s attention.
“Well then,” the Emperor said with a grin, “I won’t stand in your way. But make sure you succeed. If you fail, the Empire will look ridiculous—people will say the royal family was outsmarted by a mere count’s son.”
“I won’t fail, Your Majesty,” Dylan said firmly.
Satisfied, the Emperor nodded and left with the Crown Prince, joining the High Priest.
Agnès could hardly believe what she’d just heard. The Emperor knew about their “plan”—and he wasn’t angry. In fact, he seemed… supportive?
Nervously, she leaned closer to Dylan and whispered,
“Your Majesty already knows about our… arrangement?”
Dylan let out a deep sigh and chuckled quietly. The sound was short but heavy, filled with emotion she couldn’t quite name—something between affection, resignation, and melancholy.
“My sister would never object,” he said finally. “Even if I told her I planned to take Noah in as my adopted son. So you needn’t worry.”
Agnès blinked, confused. His tone had changed—guarded, distant. She wanted to ask more, but he had already turned away, walls rising again around him.
Just when she thought she was getting close, he always pulled back without warning.
Taking a deep breath, Agnès straightened her posture and calmed herself.
It was a habit she had learned long ago—to hide her unease and look composed.
Whatever private unease Agnès felt that day, the nobility only saw the glamour.
A royal engagement, kept secret and suddenly revealed—it became the talk of the empire. Everyone wanted to attend the upcoming wedding.
But as much as they longed for an invitation, most nobles were still wary of Dylan.
No one dared approach him casually. Rumors still lingered—stories of those who had grown too close and mysteriously “disappeared.”
No one could prove such things had ever happened, but the whispers persisted.
So instead, their focus turned to Agnès.
At every social gathering, nobles swarmed around her, hanging on her every word, every glance, every sigh.
One particularly bold nobleman spoke up first.
“Is there any couple more beautiful than His Grace and Lady Agnès? If I may, I’d love to offer you a wedding gift myself.”
“Oh, you’re too kind,” Agnès said with a gentle smile. “Your blessing alone is more than enough.”
Her polite refusal immediately made the others back off.
Most had hoped to use an extravagant gift as an excuse to get invited to the royal wedding.
Now that door was closed.
If we could just give her something meaningful, they thought, we might earn an invitation… but how?
Still, the crowd tried to keep the conversation going.
“Well, we’ve all heard that His Grace treasures you deeply,” one lady said eagerly. “He’d surely grant you anything you wished for.”
“Of course!” another chimed in. “Whatever Lady Agnès desires, he’ll make it happen!”
Amid their flattery, Agnès’s soft voice broke through.
“If I could ask for something…”
Her tone was quiet—almost wistful.
She was lovely enough already, but with her golden eyes lowered and her lips trembling slightly, she looked heartbreakingly delicate.
The nobles couldn’t look away.
Now they understood why the fearsome Duke had chosen her.
“What troubles you, my lady?” one of them asked kindly.
“Well…” Agnès hesitated, hands rising to her flushed cheeks as if embarrassed.
She wasn’t used to voicing her own desires—it felt unnatural.
But this moment mattered. She had to say it.
Gathering her courage, she closed her eyes and spoke softly.
“Before I’m married… I’d like to see my son. Just once.”
A collective gasp rippled through the noblewomen around her.
They all knew what that meant.
Her son wasn’t dead, nor was he far away—yet she had no right to see him.
Everyone present knew the story: Agnès, cast out by her husband, the Count Overhan.
She hadn’t cheated. She hadn’t gambled, nor embarrassed her family at a party.
She had simply disagreed with her husband about how to raise their child—
and for that, she had been thrown out overnight.
Every woman there had imagined such a fate in her darkest dreams.
Some pitied her. Others, silently, were just relieved it hadn’t been them.
But seeing her there, eyes shining with unshed tears, made it impossible not to feel moved.
“I’m sorry,” Agnès murmured with a weak smile. “I’ve ruined the mood. I’ll just… step outside for a moment.”
She stood and left gracefully.
As soon as she was gone, the noblewomen leaned in close to whisper, their voices hushed but urgent.
