Chapter 37
Early in the morning, Kalima woke me up with a grave voice.
“My lady, the time has finally come.”
What was she talking about? I blinked drowsily, my eyes not fully open yet.
“Huh? But the sun hasn’t even risen yet.”
“The early bird catches the worm.”
“…The early bird just ends up tired. Go back to sleep.”
Even if the bird catches the worm early, what good does that do? Eating early just makes you hungry again sooner.
I buried my head back into the pillow. Normally, Kalima would let me sleep for at least five more minutes after this much protest, but not today. She yanked the blanket off me and shouted:
“Today is the day you truly become a lady of the house! Get up!”
That’s right—today was the day of my wedding with Cerulean.
From early morning, chaos reigned.
After washing my face with tea-infused water, I was massaged, had my eyebrows plucked, and then my face was covered with so much makeup I couldn’t tell if it was for a bride or a stage actor. My hair was curled with hot irons until it looked “perfect.”
I kept grumbling.
“My hair’s already naturally wavy—it holds fine even without this. I’m putting on a veil anyway. Why bother curling it so much?”
“You don’t understand, my lady. Every bit of effort adds grace.”
“Pfft.”
That was the end of my complaints; they told me not to speak anymore or I’d wrinkle my face.
Usually, Kalima would handle my styling herself, but today, she brought a team of people to take over.
“I have to get ready for the ceremony too, you know!”
Kalima usually disappeared whenever the Duke of Luc was mentioned, but today she was planning to attend as one of the glamorous guests.
After hours of preparation, my hair and makeup were flawless. The finishing touch—the dress—would be revealed only at the moment I walked down the aisle.
I hope Vanerinne is shocked out of her mind.
So far, her only real interference had been bringing up my false accusation of attempted murder during dinner with the Duke, but even that left me uneasy.
She’s not the kind of person to give up easily.
Dwelling on it wouldn’t help, though—it would only weigh me down.
Maybe, since there’s already an official engagement contract, she decided to wait and find another way instead of trying to nullify it directly.
Her true goal was the Duke of Luc anyway—she might already be plotting her next move.
But Cerulean’s probably anticipating that too.
In any case, everything was ready.
Wearing a long white cloak that hid my dress, I turned to Kalima—also dressed and ready—and widened my eyes.
“Oh my goodness, Kalima, is that really you?”
“Hehe, this little transformation is nothing.”
“What do you mean ‘nothing’? Even your laugh sounds different!”
Her voice, normally cute and friendly, was elegant today—like that of a noble lady.
And that deep blue dress suits her perfectly.
It was somewhat revealing but simple, without gaudy decorations. And since Kalima had a healthy, vibrant air, the dress didn’t look provocative—it just looked refreshing.
“Well then, see you at the wedding, my lady.”
“Wait—aren’t we riding together?”
“Oh, my! What are you saying, dear bride?”
Kalima laughed brightly and threw open the front door. Standing outside, holding a bouquet of soft pink hydrangeas, was Cerulean.
“Wow…”
I forgot to greet him. My mouth just hung open in awe.
Dressed in white like that, he looks like a divine statue come to life.
The clean white tuxedo fit his tall, lean body perfectly, emphasizing his chiseled frame. His hair, slicked back with pomade, gave off a sophisticated aura.
As I stood there murmuring, “Wow… wow…” over and over, Cerulean handed me the bouquet and spoke.
“I suppose I should be the first to greet you.”
“Huh?”
He probably meant it to snap me out of my daze, but to me, it was like watching a marble statue move. Then, as if sealing a dream, he took my hand and kissed it gently.
“I’m fortunate to be marrying such a beautiful bride.”
Wasn’t that my line? I blinked, then pouted.
“…Playboy.”
“Why does it end like that?”
Cerulean furrowed his brow, clearly confused. I looked away, pretending not to hear.
Still, teasing him calmed my nerves a little. I bit my lip.
Alright, it starts now.
The game against Rord and Vanerinne.
First, survive the ceremony, secure fifteen minutes alone with Cerulean, and drive that princess mad.
With that resolve, I stepped into the carriage.
Each time it jolted, the cloak parted slightly, revealing my white legs.
Cerulean tugged the cloak closed again and murmured:
“You really are wearing the Duchess’s dress, aren’t you?”
“Told you I would.”
When I smiled, Cerulean’s expression darkened slightly—rare for him. I tilted my head.
“What’s wrong? Don’t you like it?”
“No.”
Even his hesitant answer was unusual for him. My eyes widened.
“Why not?”
Every bump of the carriage made the cloak slip open again.
“Your legs…”
His hand brushed lightly over my knee, down to my ankle.
“It bothers me that they’re exposed.”
I instinctively looked up to see what kind of expression he had when saying that.
But unlike what I expected, Cerulean’s face showed no emotion at all. Normally I thought of him as calm—but today, I wondered.
Could it be he doesn’t know what expression to make?
The thought escaped before I could stop it.
“Cerulean… do you like me?”
His pale blue eyes widened like ripples spreading across a still lake.
He stared at me without blinking for a long moment, then his lips parted slowly.
“I…”
Just then, the carriage came to a halt.
“We’ve arrived,” someone called from outside.
We had reached the garden of the Duke of Luc’s mansion—the venue of our wedding.
Edel Azian was born a commoner.
Naturally, there was a great deal of public attention surrounding the wedding. Not only The Newcastle Times, where she worked, but also rival papers scrambled for coverage.
But the Duke’s household had sent invitations only to “close guests,” which meant very few people from Edel’s side were present. Her father was gone, and her late mother had been an orphan—there was no family to fill the seats.
Thus, there was no need for a “bride’s waiting room.” Until the ceremony began, the role of greeting guests belonged entirely to Vanerinne.
“Congratulations, Your Grace.”
“You must be relieved, after worrying so much about Sir Cerulean.”
“Still, a commoner bride… how unusual.”
“Sir Cerulean’s background does come to mind—but of course, his talent and grace more than make up for it.”
Since Cerulean wasn’t particularly social, opinions among guests were split—some admired his ability, others quietly looked down on his lack of noble birth.
And no one was better at fanning that subtle disdain while pretending otherwise than Vanerinne.
“I did express my concern, but they’re both old enough to make their own decisions. Seeing them side by side, though, they do look lovely together. I’m sure they’ll be happy.”
Her red lips curved in a shy smile, like rose petals parting. The coral and pearl ornaments in her coiled hair jingled delicately, drawing everyone’s gaze.
Her elegance and beauty made many faces flush.
“Oh, Duchess, your gown is exquisite! May I ask where it was made?”
“Coral and pearls—how enchanting! You look like a mermaid.”
Though it was Cerulean’s wedding, Vanerinne looked every bit the star of the event. She laughed sweetly, answering each compliment with grace.
Her heart swelled like a balloon.
Yes. No matter how Cerulean resists, no matter how the Duke ignores me, this is the reality.
In the eyes of the world, she was the one representing the Luc family. She was the one everyone admired.
I’m the real main character.
Just as she basked in that thought—
“Oh my, the bride is here!”
“Sir Cerulean’s escorting her himself!”
“But… what’s that?”
Attention shifted instantly.
Suppressing her irritation, Vanerinne turned with a graceful smile.
That dress won’t suit her. She’ll look ridiculous in it.
She had chosen that gown carefully—specifically to make the bride look foolish.
Yet as she turned, even Vanerinne froze.
What…?
Edel was indeed wearing the dress Vanerinne had given her. But the length—
A mini dress?
The hem had been cut short, ending just above her thighs!
While everyone gaped in shock, one young lady stood trembling, biting her nails.
Impossible. How could the woman Sir Cerulean chose be so vulgar? He must be deceived.
In her mind’s eye, she saw Cerulean and Edel gazing warmly at each other.
Her body shook harder, and a memory whispered like a devil’s temptation:
“If you truly care for Sir Cerulean, you’ll understand my concern. This is a secret, but I’m telling you because I trust your heart.”
She recalled the conversation she’d overheard at that tea party—the shocking truth of the bride’s identity.
She bit her lip hard.
I must save Sir Cerulean!
