Chapter 22
The servant, who was clumsy at running letter errands, scratched the back of his head. Because they couldn’t afford to hire a butler, the servant was filling that role instead.
“W-Well, I was told it came from some family with a very long name, and that I should deliver it to you, milady.”
“Did they leave any other message?”
Communicating smoothly was difficult with a servant who couldn’t read and had little formal education.
“Huh? Ah—yes. They said they’d be waiting for something.”
“Waiting for what?”
The servant scratched his head again. I really should hire a butler once I get my first palace paycheck, Edith thought.
She dismissed the servant and examined the front of the envelope.
“Payton Graves of the Black Briar Soil.”
…What? Payton?
Edith doubted her own eyes.
Payton was the original story’s supporting male lead—and antagonist. A man who stood in direct opposition to Clyde, brilliant in intellect and decisive in action.
But like many novels, he suffered from the tragedy of being a “supporting” character. Everything good went to the main male lead, Clyde, while whatever was just slightly lacking was dumped onto the sub.
According to the character introduction, he would later resort to countless schemes and plots—but up to the part Edith had read, that side of him hadn’t appeared yet.
Why would this man send her a letter? And in such an excessively ornate envelope, no less.
“With the utmost respect and admiration, I humbly send this letter to the esteemed Lady Ketsmoris.”
Wasn’t this greeting overly formal? This was the kind of phrasing reserved for situations requiring extreme deference. It certainly wasn’t how one would write a simple party invitation.
Flowery lines of etiquette followed. Edith skimmed past the nonessential parts, and when she reached the main point, surprise slowly spread across her face.
“The Ketsmoris family and the Graves family have maintained a long-standing relationship. I hope to further develop this bond and bind it into a century-long connection.”
A century-long connection—don’t tell me…
“I do not know how you regard me, Lady Ketsmoris, but I have held you in my heart for a long time. If you would grant me the opportunity, I humbly request a meeting.”
“…Huh?”
She lifted the end of her sentence stupidly, despite being completely alone.
So—it was a proposal.
The extravagant envelope, the excessive compliments at the start of the letter—all of it had been in service of a marriage proposal.
The supporting male lead, Payton, suddenly proposing to Edith?
Why?
In the original story, Payton proposed a strategic marriage—not to Edith, but to Adrian. The intent was to merge Adrian’s promising mercantile family with Payton’s family, which was pioneering distant continents across the sea.
From a business standpoint, it was an extremely logical decision. Even the way he expressed his intent was reasonable and restrained.
Although Payton was labeled an antagonist in the character description, up to the early parts Edith had read, there wasn’t much about him that warranted outright dislike. Perhaps the author had deliberately kept him respectable early on, only to unleash his villainy later.
Edith traced the sparkling edge of the envelope with her finger, lost in thought.
Why had a letter meant for Adrian come to her instead?
What influence had she had on Payton?
Could it be because I inherited the ducal title?
If one made a purely strategic choice, Edith would indeed rank as a viable marriage candidate.
First of all, she belonged to a ducal house.
In the empire, families holding ducal titles could be counted on one hand. Even including collateral branches, there were very few young women of marriageable age.
Any family would naturally desire a match with another house of equal standing.
Secondly, Edith wasn’t merely a duke’s daughter—she was a duke in her own right.
So is this because of the title after all?
Business mattered, but this was a world where honor carried even greater weight. It wouldn’t be strange for Payton to want a duchess as his spouse.
Especially since he was still only the heir; at present, Edith technically outranked him.
But had Payton fully grasped just how much debt she was burdened with? He likely knew that Edith had inherited her father’s debts—but probably not the exact amount.
Perhaps he’d proposed first, intending to investigate later.
At this point, Edith entertained a troubling hypothesis.
What if her actions—different from the original Edith’s—had caused Payton to choose a completely different marriage partner?
What if, after carefully weighing the options, he had chosen Edith for her higher social status over Adrian’s business advantage?
Is it really okay for things to change this much? This is way too different from the original story.
The magnitude of the change left her shaken. Like a butterfly flapping its wings in Brazil and causing a storm in Texas.
The divergence between novel and reality had begun with small things.
The original Edith would never have forced her biological father to hand over the title. Though her personality wasn’t described in detail, common sense said so. That made it highly likely that her becoming a duke had triggered this proposal.
Then what about Clyde? Or Adrian? Had she affected them too? Had things already been different even before the maze garden encounter?
Clyde’s habit of teasing her suddenly felt suspicious.
So did Adrian’s attempts to approach her back at the academy.
An overwhelming realization came crashing into her mind, like a dam breaking. Changes may have been happening all along, and she might have spent four years in this world completely unaware of them.
Her plan to live quietly as a servant for a while and then retire into a leisurely life now seemed painfully naïve. The world wasn’t moving according to her wishes.
She shook her head hard.
No. It’s too early to draw conclusions from a single proposal letter.
Like someone flailing in an inescapable swamp, she forcibly activated a positive line of thought.
This letter might simply reflect ordinary life events never written into the novel. No story could possibly record the entire life of every character.
Besides, it was still two years before the original plot began. What if Payton had once floated the idea of marriage to Edith’s family at this time—only to withdraw it later? Then, in the future, he might become fixated on Adrian and begin weaving his schemes.
That would make sense.
Staring blankly at her garden—which resembled a thicket of miscellaneous trees—Edith pondered how she should handle this situation.
The marriage proposal was only at the opening stage.
A single letter didn’t make anything irreversible.
Which meant there were ways to interact with Payton just enough to make him change his mind.
No—half measures won’t work. It’d be better to make him properly dislike me.
Despite all her deliberation, accepting the proposal was never an option.
Regardless of the original story or how the later plot unfolded, by Edith’s own standards, marrying Payton was unthinkable—even if he never became a villain.
Marriage to a man she’d never even met?
Absolutely not.
A matchmaker came and went, and Edith sent a carefully worded reply in elegant handwriting.
Normally, elders—parents, at the very least—would handle such matters. But circumstances forced Edith to manage it herself.
Since this was a conditional marriage, breaking it required dismantling those conditions. And Edith was the only one who could attend discussions about them. Her mother was far away, and her father—rarely seen—was a gambler.
The fact that the ducal title itself was the core of the proposal also gave Edith justification to attend in person. Even on the brink of bankruptcy, a duke was still a duke.
The meeting place was Payton’s estate, not far away.
In the Lagrand Empire, a handful of top noble families were often called the “Pillars of the Earth.” Edith lived in such a district, which was likewise known as Pillar Hill.
A few blocks away from Edith’s run-down mansion stood Payton’s grand estate.
Adrian’s newly risen noble family was wealthy, but Payton’s house was an ancient great lord’s family with a long history. Even compared to Edith’s affluent childhood, Payton had lived on a far grander scale.
Passing through a gate dozens of yards wide, she entered a garden so artistically designed it rivaled the imperial palace. Only after riding the carriage for quite some time did she reach the mansion’s front entrance.
A butler in refined attire came out to greet her.
“Welcome, Your Grace. My lord has been eagerly awaiting you.”
Escorted with precise courtesy, she headed toward a reception room as large as a training field.
Everything in sight screamed luxury and wealth. An absurd thought crossed her mind: If I just married Payton, maybe I could live comfortably without suffering as a servant.
Soon, the man of the hour appeared.
His tall figure was noticeable from afar.
As he approached on long, stick-thin legs, his brilliant blond hair seemed so high it might brush the chandelier, as if he carried the sun atop his head.
“Lady Ketsmoris, I have sincerely wished to meet you for some time.”
A gentle, likable face shone toward her like a flame.
Was Payton described like this in the original novel? Or had she simply skimmed too carelessly to remember?
Radiating positive energy, the man greeted her with a warm smile and impeccable courtesy.
“I’m pleased to finally meet you.”
As Edith rose to return the greeting, tension crept into her toes. Her shifting mood owed much to her appearance-biased values.
Raised in wealth and given a first-rate education, Payton had a proven track record of business success. In the original story, until he met Adrian and gradually revealed his darker nature, he was considered the empire’s ideal groom.
If Edith hadn’t inherited the ducal title, she wouldn’t have dared dream of such a match.
“I was thrilled when I heard you would come in person. Please, make yourself comfortable. Would some music help put you at ease?”
Such courtesy.
It felt like a romance novel’s male lead had stepped straight into reality.
Edith was certain the original novel hadn’t devoted this much space to describing Payton.
If it had, there was no way she would have forgotten.
How could anyone forget the image of a man glowing warmly like a halo as he politely extended his hand?
“I was happy to accept your invitation. I hope I wasn’t too hasty.”
“Not at all. If you’d seen how I didn’t sleep a wink last night, you might even laugh.”
“Master Graves, your way with words is…”
She smiled demurely, while inwardly wanting to grin from ear to ear.
This guy is supposed to be the supporting lead—and a villain?
No way.
He’s the strongest character in the entire setting.
