When the Reclusive Young Lady’s Façade Is Exposed
Chapter 2
Shasha believed the reason I never changed was because I had never taken a serious interest in men. That was why it was always my brother’s job to shove me into social gatherings while I remained perfectly at ease.
“There’s an Imperial Ball next week.”
“Ugh.”
“It’s Father’s order. He says if you don’t go, he’ll throw you straight into a convent.”
“As if he could.”
I was already too old to fall for Father’s soft-hearted threats. But my brother’s next one carried far more weight.
“Oh? And what do you think Mother will say?”
“Mom?”
“She said if you skip the Imperial Ball, she’ll cut off your allowance from now on.”
“What? That’s ridiculous!”
I flared up in irritation.
“Without your allowance, you’ll be in trouble, won’t you? How will you buy books? How will you live and play? So just listen to me. Attend the ball quietly.”
The nagging never ended. Shasha kept going.
“I’m not saying you have to find a husband right away. Just try to be a little more proactive.”
Then, pretending it was nothing, he added another spoonful of threat.
“If that doesn’t work, we could always arrange a marriage with the merchant guild.”
“What? That’s insane! If it’s the guild master’s son… André?”
My mouth fell open. What kind of solution was that?
Seeing my reaction, Shasha smirked wickedly.
“If it’s André, he’ll inherit the guild, and our families go way back. Besides, he already knows about all your strange quirks. In some ways, wouldn’t he be the ideal match?”
“No thanks. Don’t say such horrifying things.”
I shuddered as André’s face came to mind—his long black hair tied back in a loose tail, that perpetually indifferent look.
No matter what I did, André would never so much as blink. He’d just say something like, ‘My lady, you’re as unique as ever.’
“Marriage between friends? Absolutely not!”
We’d known each other for over ten years. The fact that Shasha could say something so outrageous so casually made him seem downright ruthless.
“Exactly. I agree. So at least pretend to look for someone suitable at the ball. Mother is this close to bringing it up with the guild.”
In the end, all of Shasha’s lecturing came down to one thing: go to the Imperial Ball and find a decent marriage candidate.
Reluctantly, I nodded. Seeing how compliant I was, Shasha must have felt uneasy, because he suddenly started complimenting me.
“Don’t worry. If you just keep your mouth shut and stop doing those weird things, you’re actually not bad—even if you are my sister. What you need is effort. Effort.”
“If I’m not bad, then I’m not bad. What’s with the ‘actually’?”
Convinced he had successfully persuaded me, Shasha looked much more relaxed.
“And take those pants off and bring them to my room. How long are you going to keep wearing them? Oh, and I’m taking the book.”
I glared at him with all my might.
“No! I bought it with my allowance, so don’t touch it.”
At my sulking tone, Shasha paused mid-motion as he reached for the book.
“That’s petty.”
“You’re the petty one. Instead of helping your little sister, all you do is threaten me.”
“That’s—!”
“If you want to read it so badly, why don’t you go buy it yourself? Hmph!”
If a grown nobleman were seen purchasing a romance novel at a bookstore, gossip would spread across high society like wildfire. He’d become the main topic of discussion for months.
Cornered, Shasha had no good options. I held out my hand.
“Five gold.”
“What?”
“The book cost twenty gold. Five gold for a one-time rental is a bargain.”
“Wow. You’re practically a thief—just without the knife.”
“Watch your tone. The price just went up to six gold.”
From long experience, my brother knew that pushing further would only make my spite grow stronger.
Without another word, Shasha took six gold from his wallet and placed it on my desk. Then he picked up the pink hardcover book.
“The more I see how calculating you are, the more I think you and André would make a perfect pair.”
He tossed out that irritating remark before quickly shutting the door.
I shook my head. Just as my brother refused to acknowledge my reputation, I refused to acknowledge his supposed competence. What kind of capable man was he? He was just a childish brat.
After Shasha’s storm of nagging, I couldn’t concentrate anymore and eventually closed my book.
Earlier that day, I had gone out with my maid, Michelle. It was the release day of my favorite author’s new novel, so I had been in high spirits since morning. But now the words refused to sink in.
“Marriage?”
The word slipped from my lips, and goosebumps prickled along my skin.
Of course, I understood Shasha’s and my parents’ concerns. Even if we were a lower-ranking noble family, the fact that I had no proper fiancé at twenty-one could easily spark gossip about our household’s standing.
Ever since that accident when I was younger—and because I never enjoyed socializing—I had always been the focus of my family’s worry. I knew their actions came from love. They only wanted me to meet someone good. Knowing that, I couldn’t resent them.
Shasha also didn’t have a betrothed, but our situations were different. There was a vast gap between someone like me—who stayed holed up in her room reading books—and Shasha, who was so popular that if he lined up the women he dated, the line would never end.
If I had to marry, Shasha would cunningly choose the most advantageous option for himself. Unlike him, I truly had no intention of marrying.
The noble life I had only experienced through romance novels—though it might sound odd coming from a baron’s daughter like me—was nothing more than a shiny shell.
Love? Looove? For love to play a role in aristocratic marriage was as rare as a flower blooming in the middle of a winter snowfield.
Most marriages were political. Each side calculated their gains and losses, trading what the other wanted.
My parents undoubtedly wished to marry me into a prestigious family. Like any parents with a daughter, they’d probably be willing to hand over a considerable portion of the fortune they had worked so hard to build.
Marrying into a good household, having children, living peacefully and comfortably.
But behind that fairy-tale sentence lurked suffocating traditions and obligations that bound a person tight.
In this world—where even mentioning certain outdated ideas would earn you the label of “old-fashioned” in the 21st century—who in their right mind would walk straight into a lion’s jaws?
If I behaved at my in-laws’ house the way I did at home, I’d be divorced in less than a day.
I wish they’d just give up already.
Every season when the Imperial Ball approached, my entire family united in their efforts to pressure me. Even understanding their feelings didn’t make it any easier to bear.
“Ha…”
With a long sigh, I got up from my bed. I couldn’t face the long-awaited new novel in this mood.
I placed the book carefully on the shelf—the only spotless, dust-free area in my entire room.
Most of the shelf was filled with works by my favorite author, R.G. This latest release had been especially scarce. Even though I went to the bookstore early in the morning, all copies were sold out except for the single one on display.
The cover was slightly torn from being handled by others, but just looking at it made me full. My gloomy thoughts about marriage eased a little.
“Marriage? As if. Watching other people fall in love is way more fun.”
In romance novels, the male and female leads loved each other with everything they had. In a sense, it was pure fantasy.
“Wouldn’t it be nice if a man like this showed up somewhere?”
In this new R.G. novel, the male lead wasn’t great at expressing his feelings, but he genuinely adored the heroine. He was handsome, wealthy, and an exceptional swordsman—the perfect golden boy. Even if the cliché of such a man loving an utterly ordinary heroine was overused, it was always entertaining.
I couldn’t help but imagine myself in the heroine’s place and smiled faintly.
As if that would ever happen. People of high rank stuck to their own kind. Unless the woman could offer them something they lacked. This wasn’t an era where someone plain and innocent could be loved simply for existing.
“You’re lucky. You can be honest and still be loved.”
The heroine didn’t need to lie or pretend. She could be lively and genuine, and the hero would still realize his love for her.
If someone like that appeared for me, maybe then I’d consider marriage.
I laughed at my own pointless daydream. Brushing the crumbs off the book, I placed it neatly back on the shelf.
I was already too much of an adult to believe in perfectly beautiful worlds anymore.
