Chapter 8
Father Leofried soon scrunched up his face as if displeased and spoke in an irritable tone.
“Edel, I don’t know who you’re planning to marry, but I oppose it! Marriage is a sacred vow to remain faithful to each other for life. And now you’re telling me you plan to make a false vow before God?”
“That’s not it. I just mean that I decided on marriage for a reason more rational than love.”
“Don’t tell me… it’s because of money?”
“No. And divorce isn’t even a certainty. I just vaguely think that once both he and I achieve our goals, we’ll each go our separate ways.”
The more he listened, the more question marks floated over Father Leofried’s face.
In the end, he pressed his aching brow with his fingers and sighed.
“…I truly can’t understand what you’re thinking.”
“Hahaha, anyway, it worked out. It was a necessary promise, and he’s a good person too.”
Since there wasn’t a trace of coercion or regret on my smiling face, Father Leofried finally let out a long sigh and muttered:
“I suppose I should take it as a good thing that Edel is willing to get married.”
“Is marriage really a good thing?”
“No. I just forced myself to find a silver lining.”
“Haha. I like how honest you are, Father.”
My mother used to have a saying:
“When you’re dating, sometimes you’ll meet a man and think, ‘He’s so nice, I want to marry him.’ That’s when you need to hold yourself back!”
I giggled, and Father Leofried called my name.
“Edel.”
I raised my head to meet his eyes. To my surprise, he only hesitated for a long while, unable to continue speaking.
What kind of biting remark are you trying to spit out now?
Tilting my head and waiting, he finally spoke in a small voice.
“…If you ever have worries, tell me. Even if it’s about divorce.”
It was such a deflating remark that I burst into a dumbfounded laugh and poked his side with my elbow.
“Oh, come on, Father. You’re not being honest.”
“What do you mean by that all of a sudden?”
“You mean you’re worried about me, right? Well, we’re not just acquaintances. If anything, shouldn’t you be the one sitting in my father’s seat at the wedding?”
“Not at all. I have no desire to attend a sham marriage that might end in divorce.”
I nudged him again as if to say I knew better. Father flinched and swatted at my elbow with his palm.
Then, in a quiet voice, he added something cryptic.
“You’ve already gone down that road once. You must never step onto it again.”
His ominous words gave me chills. Pouting, I replied:
“Geez, what are you talking about? You just say vague, ominous things to sound like a real priest, don’t you?”
“…Think what you like.”
After teasing Father Leofried to my heart’s content, I returned home in a good mood.
At home, a letter awaited me.
Please grace my tea party with your presence.
—Vanerinne Rosa Luc
It was an invitation from Princess Vanerinne.
Vanerinne Rosa was, as her name suggested, a noble and beautiful princess.
Her nearly silver-golden hair, round and gentle eyes, and skin so translucent that veins were faintly visible—together with her small frame and delicate bone structure—made her look like a living work of art.
Her tone was always soft, her smile generous, and people of all ages adored her. Some even openly called her an angel.
Did I like her too?
She was someone who had nothing to do with me.
Six years ago, when I had just begun working as an imperial scribe, I had no opportunity to interact with her.
My job was recording and notarizing official documents—written in the archaic and difficult court language. Learning it alone was exhausting.
Even if I saw her at palace events, she was like a painting, smiling gracefully, never exchanging words with me. Nor was I in a position to.
They call her an angel, but she really is beautiful.
That was the full extent of my feelings for her.
The next time I encountered Princess Vanerinne was about a year later, when I had just started working independently as a scribe.
Oh no, I’m late.
I had been too absorbed in checking records carefully and ended up late to a meeting. In a panic, I thought:
If I go the long way, I’ll be even later. I need to take the shortcut.
That shortcut, unfortunately, cut through the Princess’s quarters. The area wasn’t restricted, but common sense dictated avoiding it.
Normally I would never have dared, but the urgency of the situation pushed me forward.
Fortunately—or so I thought—the usually bustling quarters were eerily quiet that day. Looking back now, it was because the Princess had deliberately dismissed her attendants. At the time, though, I naively thought:
If I’m lucky, I won’t run into anyone.
As I hurried down the hall, I suddenly heard a sharp cracking noise, the sound of something heavy collapsing, and then a chilling, screeching voice, like nails on glass.
“…I despise vermin most of all.”
The voice alone sent shivers down my spine. Startled, I turned my head.
Through a crack in a door just a few steps away, I saw a horrifying scene.
The angelic princess everyone worshipped was gripping a bleeding maid’s hair, mocking her with a twisted smile.
“Ah—”
I should have stayed silent, but the shock was so great that I let out a sound before I realized it. Her venomous eyes immediately snapped toward me.
What I saw next was even more terrifying. In an instant, her sneering, cruel face softened into one of frail sorrow.
With tears brimming in her eyes, the princess donned her familiar mask of fragile innocence and extended her hand toward me.
“P-please, help me. I came into my room and found my maid like this…”
“…!”
That was the first time I realized a person could change faces so easily. My blood ran cold. Yet I also knew that if I froze, something terrible would happen to me too.
Forcing strength into my trembling hands, I hurried to support the maid.
“A-are you all right?”
Blood dripped steadily, soaking into my palms. The sticky, metallic stench filled my nose, making me go pale.
When I looked up for help, my eyes met the princess’s. She smiled faintly, cool and calculating.
“What did you see?”
Terror coursed through me. I dropped the maid in fright and staggered backward. Her gaze lingered on my shaking hands.
Her lips curved into a delicate smile. Then, donning her mask again, she screamed.
“Help, someone! A murderer is here!”
And just like that, I became the suspect who had tortured a maid nearly to death.
The next day, I stood in front of the Duke of Luc’s estate, holding a parasol and wearing the dress I had been given.
Ugh, my heart’s pounding, even after taking calming medicine.
I wanted to decline the tea party invitation—after all, I wasn’t even married yet, and I dreaded being thrown into in-law politics—but she had sent a carriage for me, making refusal impossible.
I considered consulting Cerulean, but this invitation had been addressed directly to me.
I steadied my trembling hands.
No need to panic. I’m not that same novice scribe anymore.
And besides, the chances that Princess Vanerinne even remembered me were slim.
It was only traumatic for me. To her, it was probably nothing.
From my time as a journalist, I’d learned this: there’s a saying that the one who hits can’t sleep, but in reality, it’s usually the one who’s been hit that suffers, while the aggressor forgets.
Most likely, my grudge with her was one-sided. She might not even recall the maid she framed.
So hold your head high.
After all, if I became part of the family, I’d be seeing her often anyway.
“This way, please.”
The servants of House Luc were impeccably trained. Even though they must have been curious who I was, they betrayed no expression.
So it’s not just Cerulean—does the whole household keep such straight faces?
I was led into the garden, where, contrary to my expectation of finding the duchess alone, five elaborately dressed ladies were already seated around the table.
So they’re really trying to intimidate me from the start.
Suppressing the laugh that nearly slipped out, I heard it—
“Welcome, Lady Azian.”
The voice was like rolling glass beads, beautiful and musical.
So much for my thought that she might have changed after all these years.
Princess Vanerinne!
Now Duchess Luc, and the mother of a five-year-old son, she looked virtually unchanged, her beauty defying time.
“Greetings, Duchess.”
She wore a blue top as brilliant as a peacock’s neck and a crimson hat—colors only someone supremely confident in her looks could dare to wear. And of course, they suited her perfectly.
Still as dazzling as ever.
With a graceful smile, she spoke warmly to me, as if she neither remembered nor bore me any ill will.
“Please, take a seat. I’ve been waiting for you.”
But the gazes fixed on me were brimming with hostility. Bowing my head, I clenched my sweaty palms.
So, she’s using a classic trick.
After all, I had ridden here in her carriage. There was no reason for me to be late.
Yet she had just said she’d been waiting a long time.
She’s trying to make it look like I arrived late, so the other ladies will think poorly of me.
When I calmly sat down, the brown-haired woman next to her suddenly shrieked.
“This is outrageous! All these ladies waited for you, and you don’t even apologize?”
That was Baroness Sage—the same woman who had once served Vanerinne as a maid before her marriage.
In an instant, I understood their relationship.
Ah, so she’s the attack dog.
If Vanerinne played the angel in public, she needed someone else to bark on her behalf.
And that someone was clearly this woman.
