FPML 9

Chapter 9

The moment Marien realized who he was, the whole scene from a moment ago turned nauseating. Throwing oneself in front of a carriage to save a heroine in danger—what a cliché among clichés.

“But I’m not Odette, am I?”

Everything about it was over the top. She wasn’t a heroine—just an extra passing by—so there was no need to throw herself in front of a carriage to save him. What kind of staged surprise was this supposed to be? Would Odette happen to see it and fall for the Northern man’s character?

“Odette, don’t be fooled. Don’t fall for a personality that doesn’t even exist!”

Marien prayed desperately to Odette, whoever might be watching from somewhere, trusting in the judgment and willpower that had carried her from the bottom to the throne.

“You didn’t even say ‘thank you’ after saving my life.”

The Northern man looked down at Marien and said.

“Judging by your badge you’re from the Chancellor’s Office. I remember Minister Biers as being dull but polite. Looks like your underlings aren’t the same.”

“…….”

“Or maybe the shock made you stupid?”

“…….”

“I don’t know how you got into the Chancellor’s Office with that head of yours.”

He surveyed Marien as if taking in some curious spectacle. The coachman, arriving a moment too late, grabbed the reins of the rearing horse and barely calmed it. Once the immediate danger passed, the rest naturally shifted into spectators.

They exchanged glances between the Northern man and Marien and whispered. No one failed to recognize Duke Cain Blackwood, dressed head to toe in black. The battlefield myths—hearing that he could punch through enemy plate armor with his bare hands—must be true, they murmured.

Marien was sick of the predictable development. And for a Northern bastard to badmouth Baileon (Biers) was unforgivable. The rising indignation in her chest prodded her into action. As the Northern man turned to leave, Marien spat out toward his back.

“You miserable bastard.”

Cain Blackwood paused. He turned slowly, deliberately, as if he didn’t need any special hero-effects to move in slow motion.

His cold blue eyes fixed on Marien.

“What did you just say?”

“You’re not too old to stop hearing,” Marien retorted. “You damned bastard.”

A collective gasp broke out among the onlookers.

“Damned bastard…”

“You saved someone’s life and still don’t get a thanks—want me to explain? You go up to someone who nearly died and immediately say ‘I saved you,’ just to boast. Then what? ‘Sir Biers is dull’?”

Marien lifted her chin to meet his gaze.

“The truly dull thing isn’t whether someone’s dull or not; it’s your tone. Just looking at that black hair of yours blowing in the wind makes me bored to death. Politeness and kindness wrapped in that smug attitude are disgusting. So don’t you ever insult Sir Biers in front of me again, you—creature who’ll get his middle leg stuck in a rusty doorframe and die. The Chancellor is incomparable to the likes of you, a sewer-rat.”

Her use of honorifics exceeded mastery. She peppered unheard-of curses into a dazzling rhetorical performance; the spectators’ jaws dropped.

Cain Blackwood remained silent, only staring at Marien. Some would call it a hellish silence: this was the end for Marien Didi. No one would dare oppose him—had she really cursed the Grim Reaper Duke?

He finally spoke again after a long while.

“Do you know who I am?”

Marien bared her teeth instead of answering. She didn’t even want to treat him as human.

“You should at least remember the name of the person you killed five minutes after they saved you, shouldn’t you?”

“Only five minutes? Felt like five years.”

“Cain Blackwood.”

Hearing his name aloud made her stomach churn.

“And what’s your name?”

“Even if you’re a duke dripping with military decorations, you don’t have the right to kill innocent palace officials inside the royal palace.”

“My patience doesn’t last until quitting-time.”

“Oh, you at least know your own shortcomings, then.”

Marien whistled like a swaggering delinquent.

“Surprising. I thought you’d be too full of yourself to admit it.”

The Northern duke was violent indeed. It wasn’t an empty threat; he grabbed Marien’s throat with one hand and casually lifted her into the air. He’d been slow to turn, but when he decided to kill someone his movements were suddenly as quick as a pickpocket’s fingers.

‘What kind of bastard are you not to know the rule about not killing women and children?!’

You could tell from how he smashed the carriage with his bare hands—Cain Blackwood, the male lead of “Alliance Marriage,” was a man with inhuman strength.

Climbing the wall bare-handed would be nothing to him. He could single-handedly shift chunks of metal that would need a dozen men to move. He could fight through days without sleep and still be full of vigor on the battlefield.

Damn him. So what if he was strong—now he was twisting a young woman’s neck just because she said something that grated on his ears.

Marien gathered spit in her mouth with the resolve that if she died she would at least spit on that ugly face. Her airway tightened more and more; blood rushed to her face and it turned bright red, but she refused to kick her legs.

She did it to preserve the dignity of the faction that hated the Northern duke.

“You’re out of your mind.”

The insolent Cain Blackwood sneered.

“You know who I am…?”

“Duke Blackwood.”

At that moment a familiar voice came from behind Marien.

“Release my aide immediately.”

It was Baileon.

“This is not a request.”

“If it’s not a request?”

Of course it wouldn’t end there. Marien glared at Cain Blackwood with bulging veins.

“This is an order from the Chancellor, personally appointed by His Majesty.”

Cain Blackwood snorted a laugh. Baileon looked resigned; his self-mockery seemed lonely, but the Northern man’s cynicism smelled worse than a week-old rotten egg.

Marien didn’t care about the duke’s coldness at court balls; being handsome didn’t make being killed feel any less painful. If she had to die, so be it.

‘And this bastard still hasn’t loosened his hand at all.’

Her mind went fuzzy from lack of air.

“Turns out you’re Minister Biers’ aide. If I were the minister, I’d have had you tossed from the carriage immediately. Either beat my vitals or whatever.”

Every time Cain Blackwood flexed his arm, Marien swung in the air like a rag doll.

“I’m actually dying here.”

“This isn’t the case—the Chancellor’s third aide, Marien Didi. Also a close associate of Princess Odette. I must point out that, unlike the duke, Her Highness values human life.”

“……Which princess are you the associate of?”

“Is there anyone close to me besides Odette?”

The hand choking Marien’s neck loosened somewhat. Cain Blackwood said he’d never heard that ‘this’ person was a confidante of the Fourth Princess. Baileon replied that he should frequent the palace more often.

To cut the story short: Marien was released from the duke’s grasp. As soon as she touched the ground, Baileon supported her staggering body. She had wanted to keep her dignity until Cain Blackwood left, but that proved impossible.

Trying to breathe too quickly brought on a coughing fit. Baileon rubbed her back gently. “I’ll call a physician once you calm down,” he said, or “Breathe deeply. Good. Exhale now.” Those words reduced her. The day he got scolded by Odette for dying his hair had been similar; Baileon’s warmth made people want to cling to him.

She hadn’t begged for her life even when Cain Blackwood choked her. Though her eyes reddened, it was only from the blood pooling in her head. Moments ago she had stubbornly dared him to kill her.

But now Marien wanted to cry.

Whether Cain Blackwood saw it or not, she wanted to bury her face in Baileon’s chest and sob loudly. She wanted to beg him to rip the duke’s throat out.

For some reason she felt she could do that with Baileon.

“You glare at me so fiercely, yet you act like such a baby in front of Minister Biers.”

The swelling tears receded.

“Minister, you should manage your subordinates. People who act one way and behave another are bound to stab you in the back.”

For the first time since he’d appeared, he used honorifics. Marien had twice as much dislike for his condescending tone, but at this moment she revised her opinion.

‘It’s not about honorifics!’

It was his existence itself that was annoying.

Heat surged through her. Anger draws out strength when you have none left—true to form, Marien, who couldn’t steady herself without Baileon’s support, clenched her teeth and vowed revenge.

“I’ll destroy you…”

Cain Blackwood clicked his tongue.

“You’ve completely lost your mind.”

“You don’t even know how to end a sentence without using ‘-gun’….”

“You saying you were only improvising about being the Fourth Princess’ confidante?”

He looked at Baileon.

“If that’s what a true confidante of the Fourth Princess is like, I might reconsider the proposal.”

What a completely useless man. Marien gritted her teeth. The terms of the contract between the princess and the duke floated up in her mind.

Cain Blackwood would help Odette Rose ascend to the throne. If successful, the taxes of the Blackwood domain would be waived for a hundred years. Their first child would be raised as Blackwood’s heir in the Blackwood lands; Odette Rose would claim no parental rights. If the child survived its first year, they would divorce.

To Cain it was merely an intriguing offer, but Odette had risked her life on this gambit. She was frail and promised him an heir. How many times must she have begged him to keep it secret?

And yet Cain brags that Odette ‘offered’ him something—loudly, in front of so many spectators?

“I will surely destroy you. And when that time comes, crying until the black in your hair fades out will be no use. Understand?”

Marien swung a punch at Cain Blackwood. It wasn’t just a mock punch—she meant to hit him. Whether his body was harder than a rock didn’t matter.

At that moment Marien wanted violence. Even if her fist crumbled, she was determined to land one blow on his crotch. If it made the testicles pop, so much the better.

But Baileon quickly pulled his men to form a shield behind himself. The target was right there—so close—but suddenly it was lost.

“Duke Blackwood, my aide needs medical attention right now due to shock. As for any peculiar language or behavior, I apologize on her behalf. Please understand.”

“…It wasn’t a kick, though.”

Cain Blackwood narrowed his eyes.

“She was going to kneel and properly strike a vital point.”

“Apologies.”

“Minister.”

He called Baileon. His gaze remained fixed on Marien, teeth bared.

“A mad rabbit belongs in a stew pot.”