Chapter 8
Before the ceremony began, the grand hall was already filled with people chatting and laughing. As it was the wedding of a royal, it seemed that every noble in the capital had gathered.
The atmosphere buzzed with excitement — though not everyone’s smiles were sincere. Some faces carried faint smirks, mocking rather than admiring.
“Did you hear? The Second Prince is marrying the daughter of that ruined Walker family.”
“What could His Highness be thinking…?”
“I heard it was love at first sight.”
“Ha! Then he must’ve gone blind from love.”
As a few nobles clicked their tongues in ridicule, Adrian clenched his fists tightly where he stood, half-hidden near a pillar.
Even though Richard had stepped away from the throne fight and now lived as a duke, he was still the Second Prince of the Kainz Empire. Most nobles still thought of him as a royal before a duke.
And that was why they mocked Aileen all the more — how dare a fallen noblewoman join the royal family?
Adrian’s blood boiled as he heard them insult his sister, but he forced himself to stay silent. He remembered her warning from earlier.
***
“Adrian, if anyone insults us or our family during the ceremony, you mustn’t react.”
“How can I not? They’re insulting you!”
Aileen’s voice had been calm but firm.
“It’s inevitable. As long as I marry Richard, people will talk. If we argue back, it’ll only make things worse. We’ll look petty, and they’ll sneer even more.”
“But—”
“Someday, we’ll make them regret it — under the name of Walker, not Olden. But today isn’t that day. So, can you be patient for now?”
In the end, Adrian couldn’t refuse her pleading eyes.
Still, his anger didn’t fade. Especially when he saw that because of Richard, his sister had become the target of mockery.
To Adrian, Richard was taking his one and only sister away — and now she was being ridiculed because of him.
Of course, some nobles also whispered about Richard, but Adrian didn’t care. The only thing that mattered to him was Aileen.
Scowling, he kicked at the floor lightly as someone stepped up to the platform — the officiant of the ceremony.
He cleared his throat, his voice echoing through the hall.
“Now, let us begin the wedding ceremony of His Grace Richard Felix Olden and Lady Aileen Olden.”
Because the marriage registration had already been completed, Aileen’s name was officially “Olden,” not “Walker.”
Some nobles snickered quietly at that, but their laughter quickly died as footsteps echoed through the hall.
“The groom, Richard Felix Olden, enters.”
The officiant’s voice trembled slightly. It wasn’t obvious to the guests, but he was clearly nervous.
Richard walked down the red carpet with calm, deliberate steps. The long crimson cloak on his back fluttered softly behind him.
Even though he had stepped away from imperial politics, his presence still radiated power. Every guest instinctively fell silent — it was as if they could feel the authority of royal blood.
When Richard reached the stage, the officiant, momentarily dazed by his commanding aura, snapped to attention at his subtle nod.
“Ahem… Next, the bride, Aileen Olden, enters.”
All eyes turned toward the grand doors. Richard looked as well.
And there she was.
Aileen appeared, dressed in a pure white wedding gown that shimmered like feathers.
The hall fell silent again as she began walking down the aisle. Even those who had come expecting to mock her found themselves momentarily speechless.
Rumor had painted her as some cunning beauty — a woman who had bewitched the prince. Some had even joked she must be a “poisoned flower.”
But the woman before them wasn’t poisonous at all. She was radiant — delicate yet strong, like a flower that had bloomed in sunlight rather than shadow.
Aileen kept her gaze forward, focusing on each step. The whispers, the stares, the judgment — she ignored them all.
When she reached the altar, a hand suddenly reached out toward her.
Richard’s hand.
He was smiling faintly, eyes warm, as if silently saying, Take it.
She placed her hand in his. A few guests gasped softly, murmuring that the rumors of affection might actually be true.
When both bride and groom stood before the officiant, he unfurled a scroll tied with a gold ribbon.
“By decree of His Majesty the Emperor, the radiant sun of our Empire, this message is delivered to the bride and groom.”
The hall fell quiet again as he began to read solemnly.
Usually, imperial blessings at noble weddings were generic — the same message with names swapped out.
But this was different. This was a royal wedding. The words carried weight and grandeur.
Aileen felt her stomach twist. The more majestic it sounded, the heavier her anxiety grew.
If we divorce later, will the Emperor personally come punish us? she wondered helplessly.
Lost in thought, she barely realized the speech was ending.
“…Therefore, by their mutual vows, His Grace Richard Felix Olden and Lady Aileen Olden are hereby joined as husband and wife.”
As the officiant rolled up the scroll, an attendant stepped forward and handed another parchment to Richard.
He opened it and held one side out to Aileen, who shifted her bouquet to her left hand and took it with her right.
Their eyes met briefly — then, together, they began reciting the vows.
“By the decree of His Majesty the Emperor, and before the witnesses gathered here today, we make this vow.”
They spoke in unison, their voices calm and clear.
“We vow to respect and care for one another. We vow to love one another — always.”
Before the final line, Aileen hesitated. Her eyes flicked toward Richard, who gave her a reassuring smile.
Taking a deep breath, she finished softly,
“…We vow to live happily together, for the rest of our lives.”
As soon as she finished, the hall erupted in applause.
Even Adrian clapped, though his face was still grumpy.
Aileen looked out at the crowd, then turned to Richard. He was already looking at her.
Their eyes met — and she smiled awkwardly.
It was done.
They were now, officially, husband and wife.
***
After the ceremony, the guests moved to the grand reception hall. Servants from House Olden had prepared an endless spread of food and wine.
Older nobles gathered around the wine tables, while the younger ones crowded the dessert and fruit sections.
The air was filled with laughter and polite chatter when the doors opened again.
“The Duke and Duchess of Olden have arrived!”
All eyes turned toward the entrance.
Aileen and Richard walked in together, dressed in matching outfits like a perfectly crafted pair of dolls.
Aileen wore an ivory gown, while Richard’s deep navy jacket complemented her dress perfectly. A brooch made from Aileen’s finest purple magic stone fastened his cravat, gleaming brilliantly even from afar.
Gasps of admiration spread among the crowd.
“What a beautiful gem.”
“That’s not a gem — it’s a magic stone. A high-grade one, too.”
“Accessories made from top-tier magic stones? Impressive — the Olden family truly lives up to its name.”
Their praise quickly shifted from Richard’s wealth to the power of his house.
And the more they praised him, the more they dismissed her.
Aileen heard it all — the quiet sneers, the condescending whispers — but she smiled graciously and greeted each approaching guest with flawless manners.
She knew most of them weren’t here for her anyway. They wanted Richard’s favor. Still, as his wife, she couldn’t avoid them.
If she withdrew now, it would only prove them right — that she didn’t belong among them.
So she stayed.
“Congratulations on your marriage, Your Grace, Duchess Olden,” said one man, bowing politely.
“Thank you. And you are…?”
“Marquis Payne,” he said with a booming laugh.
Aileen smiled and returned the greeting. “A pleasure to meet you, Marquis Payne.”
“I must say, the two of you are the perfect couple,” he said smoothly. “You truly look like you were made for each other.”
Aileen forced a polite smile. She knew it was just flattery, but hearing such words — especially comparing herself to the empire’s brilliant second prince — made her heart twist strangely.
She glanced sideways. Richard’s calm, unreadable expression hadn’t changed. Seeing that steadiness helped her shake off the uneasy feeling.
“By the way, Your Grace,” the marquis continued, turning toward Richard, “about that matter we discussed last time…”
Aileen immediately realized it was business talk and stepped back slightly.
It would be rude to interrupt, so she simply waited quietly, pretending to listen.
But the conversation dragged on — and on.
The marquis kept talking endlessly about politics and trade, ignoring her completely.
Aileen’s legs began to ache from standing still in her heels, but she didn’t show it. She just smiled and endured.
Then, a low, mocking chuckle brushed past her ear.
Her eyes flicked sideways — and she saw a few nobles glancing her way before quickly looking elsewhere, smirking.
That’s when she understood.
They’re doing this on purpose.
The marquis’s endless “business talk” wasn’t just to impress Richard — it was to exclude her.
To remind her, in front of everyone, exactly where she stood.
