02
One Year Ago
Sometimes, life lies to us.
For Vivienne Mergoville, those lies whispered: “You’re not lonely, you’ll be fine, and in the long run, that man will be a good choice.” Yes, life had been a privilege for her.
Even in an age her grandfather described as one where the Emperor’s Privy Council had acquired the grandiose title of a “cabinet,” even if her hereditary noble status didn’t guarantee political influence…
Even in a world where citizens were learning equality and denouncing the blue blood of the aristocracy, Vivienne believed she would live a life envied across the empire as a noblewoman.
Her marriage to her fiancé was an exchange: his social prestige for her title of Marquise, a relic of a bygone era.
Political observers called it a perfectly meshed mechanism, like interlocking gears. Ideal, flawless, with no gaps or misalignments.
“Milady.”
Vivienne, unaware that her fingers were turning cold, leaned against the window. The frozen glass was clear only where her fingertips and breath had touched.
“Milady, you can’t do this on a day as important as today. Look at the wind—it’s freezing!”
Along with the scolding came warmth across her shoulders. Sliding her hands into the sleeves of her sweater, Vivienne smiled at her maid.
“Martha.”
“What were you looking at so intently?”
Martha leaned toward the large window, scanning the view. Perhaps she was expecting some interesting sight, but the scenery remained the same as always, and her gaze returned to Vivienne.
“Nothing. I was just wondering if it might snow.”
“Still, your lips are purple. You don’t want to be a lady sneezing in front of Lord Ludvik Rex, do you?”
Vivienne smiled without replying and then asked as if remembering something.
“Oh, by the way, Madison—have you received any letters from him?”
“You know how it is, milady. People are talking about a war brewing between the Kingdom of Akaro and the Kingdom of Seabridge across the continent. Since Madison is a war correspondent, he must be busy right now.”
“Of course.”
Vivienne lowered her gaze. Martha, ever cheerful, continued:
“Don’t worry. Our Prime Minister of the Diatro Empire is actively trying to mediate the conflict, isn’t he? Once the situation improves, Madison will return to you.”
“……”
“You just wait safely in the most secure place and later, when you meet him, you can say everything you’ve wanted without restraint. Besides, he isn’t your only childhood friend—there are plenty of other friends too. Now, get up. You can’t be lazy on a busy day like today.”
Following Martha toward the dressing room, Vivienne glanced back once more. The courtyard she had been staring at remained unchanged. The mailbox was the same, and no servant came to greet the postman.
“Right, you mentioned there’s a social gathering before meeting your fiancé today. It seems you’ll have to perform at your best.”
Even as she followed Martha, Vivienne glanced back at the window twice, then three times. There was still no reply from him. Dozens of letters lay open on the table.
❖ ❖ ❖
“No matter what, there’s no one better suited to marry a fine gentleman than Miss Vivienne.”
Conversations at these gatherings always covered the same topics and ended at the same conclusion.
Money. Family business, wars, the cabinet…
Men.
Even as the world changed, winning the “trophy” of a suitable man remained a must in high society. That was the common denominator in all the previously mentioned topics.
“Of course. She’ll soon be the daughter-in-law of the Rex family, won’t she?”
“Better start making a good impression now, hohoho.”
“How does it feel to be marrying the son of the Chief Justice, Miss Vivienne?”
The Imperial Senate, being a body of nobles, also oversaw judicial matters, so the question wasn’t inaccurate. Surrounded by the most distinguished attendees at the table, Vivienne sipped her warm tea.
“I’m not sure what to say. I’ll just follow my parents’ decision.”
Humble words about her position, coupled with flattery toward her parents who put her in this position—just enough to conceal the truth.
“You speak so well, Miss Vivienne. I told you, you’d manage marriage just as gracefully one day.”
“Don’t hide him too much—brag about your fiancé once in a while. You’re so affectionate at official events, yet I’ve never seen it here…”
“Oh, why would I show off a husband like that to the world? The hotel he owns is where Miss Vivienne goes to meet him anyway. There’s no need to say more—it would just be a waste of breath.”
Vivienne understood exactly what they wanted to know and what they wanted to confirm—and she knew the truth would never satisfy them.
Still, why did she keep deceiving herself?
“Taming such a dangerous man… I thought you were so gentle, Miss Vivienne, yet you’re quite resourceful.”
“Indeed. My judgment in letting you join this gathering has proven correct here.”
“Exactly. Money alone isn’t everything. Compared to Miss Cynthia Eastwell, who flaunts her wealth, Miss Vivienne Mergoville is much more noble and elegant.”
“You flatter me.”
Even while silently mocking their empty chatter, Vivienne felt a fleeting pride at their compliments. This feeling, addictive and oddly comforting, gave her the sense that she was on the right path and belonged somewhere.
Yes. Compared to the life of her childhood friend Madison, a war correspondent far across the continent, the sheltered, noble life she had grown up with was, in Vivienne’s mind, far superior.
Those admiring gazes and her parents’ teachings reinforced this belief. The greenhouse was always safe and warm.
While she indulged in these thoughts, the conversation drifted elsewhere. But soon, it returned to her.
“No matter how you look at it, none of the other Mergovilles here can compare to you in having a prosperous family, Miss Vivienne. I heard about young Master Mergoville…”
“Oh, you mean the one who joined the Central Police Department at the suggestion of his in-laws?”
“Yes. I heard he completed his probation and topped the promotion exam.”
“Really, Miss Vivienne? Quite the double celebration for your family.”
“My brother was just lucky, that’s all.”
Vivienne said it lightly, as if it were nothing.
“To become a senior officer, he must be on the fast-track promotion list, so it’s too early to celebrate.”
“Thanks to you, Miss Vivienne, your brother is doing well, and soon your father will become a senator again. How wonderful.”
“Again a senator,” she thought.
When Vivienne was about ten, her father had lost his seat in the Senate, which he held by hereditary right as a noble.
Her grandfather had explained: the empire, though ruled by an emperor, was governed by a Privy Council evolved into a cabinet. The cabinet had two houses: the upper house of nobles and the lower house of commoners.
Originally, noble status guaranteed a seat in the upper house, but times had changed. The people complained that too many nobles lived off their taxes.
The lower house used this as leverage, cutting down hereditary noble numbers and filling vacancies with newly ennobled individuals recommended by the Prime Minister.
“Those were commoners granted noble titles,” her grandfather had said.
Standing alongside the new nobility, the Senate’s influence shifted to the lower house. Her father’s hereditary status had become a political obstacle.
“Still, my father will regain his seat—what a fortunate turn of events.”
Senator salaries were a significant source of income for sustaining the family. So, her father regaining his position through her marriage was indeed fortunate.
Everything was falling into place. Before Vivienne could linger too long in her thoughts, a voice at the social gathering called out.
“So, the rumor is true—Marquis Mergoville will become a senator again? How enviable.”
“That’s unknown,” Vivienne replied.
As a noble, she hid the transactional nature of marriage behind a polite smile.
“How could I possibly know all that the adults do?”
Most of the attendees were of her mother’s generation. She concealed the ugliness of the marriage while allowing the innocence her youth provided to cover the truth.
If only he would arrive now… she thought. It would make for the perfect picture if her fiancé appeared before things became messy.
But I’m asking for too much.
Such novel-like imaginings were indeed indulgent. She glanced at the clock.
“Excuse me…”
The women at her table fell silent and turned to her.
“I have some matters to attend to. I hope you’ll excuse me.”
She inclined her head slightly to the organizer, acknowledged the response with her eyes, and turned away. Voices erupted around her as if in response.
“Oh, so she’s off to meet her fiancé. It must’ve been so hard to wait…”
“Perfect timing, just right…”
“Even an arranged marriage would be hard on her, wouldn’t it? She’s young and inexperienced.”
“You know, upper-class men—giving a diamond ring publicly yet worrying privately about receipts—”
Vivienne heard them chuckle behind her as she walked outside.
Indeed. Most upper-class men in Diatro are like that.
At almost twenty-two, Vivienne thought with remarkable maturity. Her noble comportment drew admiration, making her seem like the protagonist of the day.
She was on the right path.
Confirming that her bodyguard followed, she left the grand building and descended the steps. The air was crisp, cold, almost snow-like.
“Has Madison received any letters?” she asked as she got into the waiting classic limousine, a massive black masterpiece from the Langston company, fit for royalty. The bodyguard in the driver’s seat gave a brief reply.
“As you know, milady, I’ve been with you the entire time, so I’m not familiar with events at the estate.”
The limousine, though extended at the hood, had a surprisingly close distance between driver and rear seat. Vivienne spoke toward the guard.
“I asked that if a letter arrives, they call me. The estate staff would know to tell Miss Mergoville.”
“No staff member came seeking me while you were at the gathering.”
“I see. Then don’t worry about it.”
Leaning back, Vivienne offered an unnecessary joke to the silent guard.
“Good thing Madison’s a woman. Both for my father and for me.”
It referred to the meticulous effort she made that morning, asking both maid and bodyguard about the letter.
“Yes,” came the cold, brief reply.
As the car moved, Vivienne thought of Madison Parker, her childhood friend who had shared her youth.
While Vivienne was raised a sheltered noble, Madison, born into a wealthy commoner family, attended school, met people, and went to college, leaving Vivienne’s side.
Raised under a lawyer couple, Madison had a free-spirited life, which Vivienne’s father disapproved of.
Yet Vivienne, content with her own life, occasionally feared the future and thought of her friend. Though she had grown as a competent noblewoman, she secretly admired Madison’s independent life while dismissing its dangers compared to her own safe existence.
When the future seems frightening…
Vivienne realized that her apprehension stemmed from meeting her fiancé, Ludvik Rex.
Earlier, the discomfort was only the matter of letters on the table; now, meeting him in person was a greater concern. She could no longer ignore the sordid truth of her engagement:
Her fiancé’s social prestige and the exchange of an outdated title.
Her family’s gain would be limited to her father regaining his Senate seat. The idea of gaining the influential Rex family as in-laws was only half true.
Because Ludvik Rex is illegitimate.
Ten years ago, when her father lost his Senate seat, the head of the Rex family renegotiated the marriage.
Instead of the eldest son, they offered the second, illegitimate child. They didn’t want the brilliant child hidden in the shadows. The title, now more ceremonial, was more suitable for the second son, so the arrangement was agreed upon.
Her father, stubborn and prideful, insisted on his terms in subtle ways—arriving forty minutes late to the first meeting, refusing to attach the surname when calling the future son-in-law.
Her fiancé’s keen, almost animalistic sense in business extended to these small gestures. Ludvik displayed strength in his handshake, then turned his cold gaze on her, as if she were a living title.
Vivienne feared his capriciousness. She didn’t mind that he replaced countless women; she feared his intensity directed at her.
Though he was perfect at public events, privately she never knew when that facade would vanish, keeping her both anxious and smiling.
Her father may have thought he could control him, but the “hunter” was the one in command…
Vivienne checked her pocket watch.
Though she had left the social gathering early to be punctual, her father’s influence still meant she would likely be late for the official meeting.
Today marks two years since our engagement discussions began in earnest.
But Vivienne no longer felt guilty; the fiancé likely had other matters to attend to anyway.
❖ ❖ ❖
“Uh… Ludvik, Ludvik… that sound from the door just now…”
As expected, the scene was filthy and instinctual. The raw air of such places was never easy to get used to.
“Seems the Marquise has arrived.”
The creaking grew louder, and as Vivienne stepped forward, sunlight poured across the floor. Her fiancé, aware of her arrival, remained engrossed in that activity.
Thick saliva dripped from his fingers inside an unnamed woman’s mouth.
“That woman… prettier than me?”
“She’s just turned twenty.”
“Almost twenty-two,” Vivienne corrected.
At her words, his previously gleaming, cruel gaze turned toward her. Vivienne avoided his eyes, overwhelmed despite herself.
The air seemed to chill, or perhaps she only now recalled it was winter. She moved to a distant sofa, feigning calm.
“I realized today marks two years since our engagement was formally discussed.”
She had tried counting the women her fiancé had been with but gave up. Though clever, signing ledgers seemed simpler than tracking the numbers.
How long can I remain happy as his “twenty-year-old girl”?
Vivienne questioned her seemingly inevitable life.
“Ah yes, it’s also the day your brother’s probation period ended. He topped the promotion exam, didn’t he?”
A faint sound of movement. Fully dressed, he approached, gripping her jaw with the hand that had touched another woman moments ago.
“To avoid accidents preventing your inclusion on the fast-track list, you must behave well.”
He looked down and smiled.
“You’re late.”
“I thought I might be a hindrance.”
Wasn’t that considerate? She couldn’t bring herself to speak words that might provoke him.
“No, I’m aligning with your schedule, Miss Mergoville.”
No one in the empire pronounced “Miss Mergoville” so dismissively.
“You’re always late like a head of state, so I should at least offer this courtesy.”
His voice was calm, almost unsuspecting of sarcasm.
“Please, see that woman out first. Then we’ll talk.”
“Why? How refined do you think we are together?”
Vivienne disliked such casual cruelty from her fiancé. His presence suffocated her.
“If you want to look that way, do it to your father, who pushed you here while maintaining all his airs.”
He moved closer and lightly kissed her lips. Vivienne’s eyes widened at the suddenness.
Her body instinctively leaned back. He ignored her, sucking her lower lip. The sound between her lips, never before produced, made her chest plummet.
The first meeting had been careful; until now, their engagements had been purely mechanical.
She had grown accustomed to nothing happening and had become dull to it.
“Did you know the condition for me receiving the Mergoville title involved this child inside you?”
She leaned back, collapsing on the sofa as he positioned himself between her legs. Her chest raced in panic.
“There was no condition for marriage. Understandable, even without your father’s high-handedness—an illegitimate child wouldn’t be expected to produce the same as I.”
In the Diatro Empire, illegitimacy imposed minimal social restriction. His statement—that an illegitimate wouldn’t bear another illegitimate—was old-fashioned nobility thinking.
Today, in Diatro, with influence and money, bloodline matters little for raising children.
So his sarcastic point was that even marrying her wouldn’t stop an illegitimate child.
Her father’s prideful thoughts about controlling her fiancé differed vastly from Ludvik’s reality: a life well-lived even as an illegitimate child.
Just marry already.
Her father’s stubbornness only twisted matters further, directing Ludvik’s finely tuned anger toward her.
Vivienne struggled and turned, but it was useless. Clutching her waist, he pressed his warm body to hers.
“You’re almost twenty-two; you can handle pregnancy well now.”
He leaned over her back, exhaling into her ear, his shadow falling darker.
“You are the Mergoville heiress who will give him the illegitimate grandchild he longs for. Can’t you wait that long?”
Vivienne looked at the bed in the distance. His ever-changing blonde mistress lay under the covers, looking down on him. In the picture, she seemed the joke, he the fiancé.
“Never learned to bark on topic from your refined tutors, did you? I can only make you cry, my apologies.”
Vivienne struggled to break free. He released her waist, and she collapsed onto the sofa.
“Meeting other girls must have been fun. I’ll introduce more later, but let’s stop here today.”
The statement clearly referred to the mistress. The smoke of his casually smoked cigarette stung.
“She must need it more than me.”
The mistress dropped birth control pills on Vivienne’s stomach. Though nothing had happened today, it was a crude gesture. She turned her lips in disdain, a mix of competitiveness, pride, and superiority.
Expressions spoke louder than words.
“If you propose marriage and set conditions like that, she’ll rush to marry first. Otherwise, she’ll break the contract herself.”
Vivienne recalled what her father had once told her mother: “No, there must have been a misunderstanding.”
She slowly collected herself and stood.
Reporters must be positioned outside.
She forced herself to move, determined to prevent her fiancé and the mistress from leaving together. Her instinct to appear perfect overpowered her fear.
Four days
