IDMW 04

Chapter 04

“Surely… you wouldn’t do it with someone you just met, right? Right?”

Of course, it wasn’t the first time today, but to me—who hadn’t even exchanged a word with Callis yet—he might as well have been a stranger.

Silently praying to his sense of morality, I sent him a pleading look, hoping today would pass with a sense of solemnity.

“I can read the Bible for you. I can even sing the national anthem. I can recite sutras if you want.”

“Sit down first.”

Sacrilege!

Here I was, praying earnestly, and he interrupted my prayer to tell me to sit on the sofa.

I chose a seat where my weapon, the glass, was within easy reach.

“Looks like you want a drink. I’ll pour you one.”

Ah. I must have unconsciously been holding a glass.

Interpreting it as a desire for alcohol, he filled my glass with champagne, poured himself one as well, and downed it in one gulp.

“Why! Why gulp it down like that! What are you trying to do!”

I scolded him inwardly for drinking without savoring it, barely letting the alcohol touch my lips.

“I must not get drunk. Absolutely not!”

I’d seen this in romance novels. The heroine gets drunk, suddenly finds the man she just met impossibly handsome, and spends the night with him.

And the next day, waking up in broad daylight… ugh… better not think about it.

“Filina Agnis… or rather, Filina Rubelia now.”

“Yes.”

As he started speaking, I decided to buy some time.

“We both know this is a marriage neither of us wanted. So we won’t spend the night together.”

With an incredibly cold tone, he spoke the warm words I had been hoping for.

‘As expected… he’s a man of full moral integrity. Sorry, I almost misunderstood.’

I smiled brightly and sent him an approving look.

“Don’t look at me with such a disappointed expression…”

Huh… what? Where? Since when did my look seem disappointed?

“I’m not disappointed.”

I was momentarily frustrated at his misunderstanding, and my tone slipped, but I quickly adjusted it to sound polite and demure.

“Hmm… then that’s a relief… And are you familiar with the marriage traditions of the Abel Empire’s nobility?”

The marriage traditions of the Abel Empire?

I had no knowledge of that—and, honestly, I didn’t need to until the princess tried to escape!

“I’ve never heard of the Abel Empire’s marriage traditions.”

“Really?”

Hearing my words, his face suddenly flushed red, and he poured himself another drink, downing it again.

‘What’s wrong with him? He said he wouldn’t! Why is he drinking again?’

I glared at him suspiciously, wondering if his words and actions were always contradictory.

“On the wedding night, the first night… and the traces…”

I couldn’t listen to any more and sprang up.

“You said you wouldn’t! You said you wouldn’t if you didn’t want to! Why are your words different! Are you joking with me!”

I vented my frustration, surprised at my own outburst, and pressed myself against the wall, keeping as much distance from him as possible.

‘Ah. My weapon!’

I was far from my weapons.

Perhaps annoyed by my outburst, he stood up and strode toward me with an angry expression.

“I won’t do it. But the first night must happen. Nobles must show its traces to the priest. The priest is here too.”

He grabbed my wrist firmly. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t free my wrist from his grasp.

I was terrified I might end up pinned under him if he dragged me any further.

“What! How is that fair! If the first night happens, it counts as done! How can it be considered not done!”

Finally, I shook my hand vigorously to break free and moved to the far side of the room, pressing against the wall near the bookshelf this time.

I picked up a thick-looking book and hugged it tightly to my chest.

“The Bible?”

Looking at the book after he spoke… I was indeed clutching the Bible.

“Let’s… think about this. We don’t want it, so let’s find another way.”

I mentally searched for a way to escape this situation as he approached me again.

“Stop right there! Don’t move!”

Fortunately, my words made him pause, standing there with a curious look as if wondering what I was up to.

Probably like a cat toying with a trapped mouse, amused by its desperate struggles.

Eventually, the cat taps the mouse on the head, knocking it out, then swallows it whole…

‘The trace of the first night… the trace!’

I remembered. I had a way to handle this situation.

Reading romance novels wasn’t pointless. There was always a path in the books.

“I’ll make the trace myself. I can do it alone.”

“What do you mean?”

He gave me a puzzled look at my confident words.

“Give me a dagger. And a handkerchief to stop the bleeding.”

A method often used in those novels—self-inflicting a small injury, spilling some blood, and pretending the first night happened.

Of course, in the novels, the male protagonist did this for the heroine.

‘There’s no way he’d do it for me.’

But I wasn’t relying on him, so I resolved to do it myself.

He seemed to understand—or perhaps not—because he brought a hidden dagger from the room.

‘He has a hidden dagger… what kind of life does he live!’

Holding the dagger in my hand, I started to tremble, thinking about inflicting the wound.

“I’ll do it myself.”

He tried to take the dagger back, but I refused.

I didn’t want to owe him anything; who knows what he might demand later. This was something I had to do myself.

‘I can do it. I can do it.’

I climbed onto the bed, brushing off unnecessary rose petals, and made a small cut on my calf. Drops of blood appeared.

Emergency situations really do bring out superhuman abilities—I used all of mine just for this small injury.

‘Uh… maybe too little?’

The cut was shallow, so the blood didn’t flow much. I squeezed a bit, using the handkerchief to stop the bleeding.

‘Is this enough?’

Not knowing how much blood was needed, I settled on this amount. I didn’t want it to hurt too much either.

+++

“Am I really that disgusting? Enough to draw blood myself?”

Sitting on the bed, proud of my actions, I suddenly heard his angry voice.

“What do you mean, disgusting?”

I looked at him in surprise at his sudden anger.

He sat next to me on the bed.

“The first time we met, you vomited… on the wedding night, you hurt yourself…”

He got too close; all I could see were his red eyes.

I pushed against his chest to create distance.

“It’s not like that. We both didn’t want it, so I found a way. I did what I could do myself.”

I met his eyes firmly. I was still scared, but I felt sorry for vomiting the first time we met.

“Alright, then.”

Luckily, he didn’t seem too angry and got up to sit on the sofa.

“I’ll sleep on the sofa, so you can sleep in the bed.”

He spoke like the handsome male protagonists in romance novels.

‘Indeed, there’s always a way in the books.’

Seeing him settle on the sofa, I lay on the bed and finally relaxed into a deep sleep.

The long carriage ride and my tense body earlier had left me exhausted.

+++

Callis knew that on the day he first met Filina, she had struggled with the smell of blood on him, so today he showered before entering the bridal chamber.

‘The first night must happen.’

Since a priest was present and it was a noble tradition, he planned to follow the custom as required.

‘I thought she might fit in my arms…’

Of course, he worried slightly about whether someone much smaller than him could manage, but he had never heard of a bride dying on her first night, so he assumed she wouldn’t die.

However, Filina ran away, refusing even that, and asked for a dagger to make a trace herself.

Seeing her create a wound and a trace herself irritated him, though he didn’t understand why.

“Am I really that disgusting? Enough to draw blood myself?”

He felt foolish even as he said it, almost wanting to take back his words.

“It’s not like that. We both didn’t want it, so I found a way. I did what I could do myself.”

Unlike what he expected, she calmly met his gaze and explained.

Pleased with her response, he willingly gave up the bed and lay on the sofa, covering his eyes with his arm.

‘She sleeps well.’

Hearing her steady breathing, he lowered his arm and fell asleep.

Was that the scent of the bouquet?

A subtle lily fragrance filled the room.

The next morning, Callis carefully removed Filina’s pajamas so she wouldn’t wake.

“To act properly, you have to commit fully.”

Then he left the room and instructed the head maid to send a servant.

Meanwhile, the maid entered, and when she opened the curtains, the sudden light woke Filina, who panicked seeing herself in only her underwear.

‘You bad man!’

After silently cursing Callis ten times, she shyly pretended to be hurt, acting like she had experienced the first night.

‘In the novel, she couldn’t even walk… she collapsed.’

“Madam, we’ll help you.”

“Ah…”

As two more maids entered to help her up, she deliberately acted like her legs had given out.

‘Perfect! Operation successful!’

Seeing the clueless maids blush, Filina smiled even more shyly.

+++

“Margaret!”

Returning to the main building, I found Margaret already in my room.

“Madam!”

We hugged as if we had been separated for years.

“Madam, you’ve worked hard. Rest well today.”

Margaret, still smiling happily, helped me back onto the bed… her face flushed.

‘I can’t tell her… maybe I’ll only tell Margaret?’

I considered it briefly, but decided it was better to keep the secret.

“This evening, the Duke will have dinner with you, the head maid said.”

Still cheerful, Margaret started praising Callis’ appearance.

“The Duke is tall and handsome, isn’t he?”

“Is he?”

“The Duke has bright, sharp eyes, really nice, right?”

“Really?”

“The Duke’s nose is straight and very nice, too, right?”

“Margaret, stop.”

I got the gist. This gullible Margaret had probably been brainwashed by the staff yesterday to think Callis was handsome and good, and now she was trying to spread it to me.

+++

Dinner was to be alone in my room with Callis, considering my “illness.”

Having pretended to be sick all day, I almost believed I was actually unwell.

‘Why… is there only meat…’

The dishes at the table were mostly meat-based, likely his preference; only a small salad and some bread suited my tastes.

“Why eat so little?”

Displeased with my small bites, he asked in a low, commanding voice:

“I don’t eat much meat at night; it’s hard to digest. This is enough.”

He glanced over at my portion, seemingly unconvinced.

“If you like, you can use the annex. You don’t have to do household work. Money isn’t a problem.”

He spoke plainly, as if listing types of bread—croissant, scone, apple pie.

Despite being scared, I decided to speak my mind.