- Chapter 7
“Then, Mary, what kind of man would you like to meet?”
Dalia suddenly worried. What if Latrice, even though Mary disliked it, tried to touch her against her will?
As far as Dalia knew, Latrice was the most decent among their family members. The love letters he had written and rewritten so many times were filled with sincere emotions.
Still, matters of men and women were unpredictable. Concerned, Dalia asked. If Mary didn’t want it, she was prepared to keep her as far away from Latrice as possible.
“Eh? Me? Wow, I can’t believe I’m actually talking about something like this with you, my lady!”
Mary was so flustered that she didn’t know what to do, but soon her expression shifted into serious contemplation.
“Well… um… I’d like him to have long, slender fingers. Actually, a tall and slender body overall would be nice. I’d prefer light-colored hair and skin too. I don’t like people who are too tanned!”
“Aha. Very specific. And?”
“His eyes should be much bigger than mine! I hate my tiny eyes, so I want my children to have big eyes like yours, my lady. And if possible, green eyes would be best. And um…”
She went on listing more and more conditions—and strangely enough, all of them happened to perfectly describe Latrice.
“….”
The more she talked, the more Dalia realized her description leaned entirely on appearances. Surely there had to be something more important.
“But what about personality? Don’t you think that matters too?”
Mary, still flushed with excitement, froze at the question.
“Huh? Well… that kind of thing you just work out as you go.”
“Still, don’t you think your partner should be someone with the kind of character you’d want?”
Mary widened her eyes, as though wondering why Dalia kept asking.
“As long as the man’s handsome, that’s enough, my lady.”
“…I see.”
Respecting Mary’s preferences, Dalia nodded.
“Then, what do you think of my brother Latrice?”
She asked the question half-apologetically, knowing how peculiar Latrice could be. But Mary’s reaction was explosive.
“I knew it! Even you agree he’s ridiculously handsome, right? Because of him, no other man even compares to me anymore!”
“…Really?”
“Of course!”
As if recalling his face, Mary’s cheeks flushed crimson.
“And he has such a noble character too!”
“…He does? That boy?”
“Of course! Ah, come on, why do you look like that? It’s only because you think of him as your little brother. Anyone can see how kind he is, just by the way he treats the servants.”
Even when Dalia’s expression soured, Mary leaned forward passionately, showering Latrice with praise. But soon she slumped back into her chair with a heavy sigh.
“But what’s the point? How could someone like me dare covet the young master? Now I’m ruined—my standards are too high and I’ve missed my chance to marry.”
“Hmm…”
Dalia thought back on Latrice’s future.
In her previous life, after she married Shiray and the viscountess safely bore a son, the viscount cast Latrice aside. He sent him off to the northern battlefield under the pretense of “returning to his homeland to bring glory to the family,” but in truth, it was nothing more than sending him to die.
The last Dalia heard of him was the rumor of his “disappearance,” which was merely a disguised meaningless death. His feelings for Mary had never even been delivered.
‘Before he leaves, I must give her those shabby letters of his. If the two of them realize their feelings and elope, Mary is resourceful enough to manage.’
The carriage, warmed by the midday sun, rocked gently with the sound of rattling wheels—the perfect setting to fall asleep.
While Mary dozed against the wall, Dalia opened a book across her lap. It contained records about the Black Dragon.
‘So, is this so-called Evil Dragon nothing but a baseless illusion?’
She tapped her finger against the illustration of a dragon. The cover bore a clock-shaped crest, making it easy to identify as a book about the God of Time, Tempus, and her divine beast—the Black Dragon.
Having spent so much of her life staring at clocks, Dalia found the book oddly reassuring. The fact that it described the clock as “a gift of the God Tempus” eased her doubts. She wasn’t insane after all.
‘But why does its lair have to be so close to our lands? Convenient for disguising stolen goods and people as “offerings to the dragon,” isn’t it?’
The illustrations depicted a fearsome Black Dragon trampling people as it roared.
Yet, while tales of dragons had once abounded, by Dalia’s grandparents’ time they had grown rare. The only dragon still remembered was the Black Dragon, the divine beast of Tempus, worshiped by the royal Astaire family for embodying strength.
Unfortunately, its lair was said to be none other than the mountain range behind Dalia’s territory.
She would have liked to meet an actual witness, but all those who once lived nearby were dead or gone. Only written records remained.
Turning the page, she found varying descriptions—some claimed it was a giant beast, others a massive carriage, still others a tree swaying in the wind. Oddly, one single account described the dragon as “an unbelievably handsome man.”
“An evil dragon described as a dazzling man? Did the witness eat hallucinogenic mushrooms in the forest?”
That report, however, was the exception.
The dragon bore the sacred crest of Tempus, a symbol only those chosen by the goddess could manifest. In Astaire, this emblem was so revered that only royals were allowed to use it on their clothing.
‘And now that same emblem is sitting in my pocket… If anyone finds out, I’ll never escape alive.’
As Dalia studied the intricate design on the page, the carriage suddenly stopped.
“My lady, we’ve arrived!”
The coachman opened the window. Mary stirred, wiping drool from her lips.
“Huh? Already? You should have woken me, my lady!”
“It’s fine. I was reading.”
“What were you reading? Oh no—Black Dragon records? That monster?”
“Yes. I was curious.”
Dalia smiled, but Mary recoiled.
“Ugh, that’s disgusting. What kind of divine beast eats people? If it weren’t blasphemous, everyone would admit it’s just a monster!”
“….”
“And why, of all places, does it have to live right behind our lands?”
“It’s not directly behind us—it’s deep in the mountains.”
“Same difference! It’s terrifying.”
Her words unsettled Dalia. The god she had met insisted the dragon was not evil. But Mary’s sentiments reflected what all the townsfolk believed.
“But why would you read about such a scary thing?”
“Because it might devour me one day.”
“Oh, you mean that sacrifice nonsense again? My lady! You’re about to marry such a handsome husband—stop saying such dreadful things!”
Dalia only chuckled and closed the book with a snap.
“You’re right. This book is useless anyway.”
She set it aside and stepped down from the carriage.
The lawyer Algernon’s office, filled with solid wooden furniture, radiated a sense of order.
Seeing Dalia, Algernon removed his pince-nez and rose to greet her.
“Welcome, my lady. I’ve been expecting you.”
“It’s been a while, Algernon.”
Before even sitting, Dalia placed a small pouch from her bosom onto his desk.
“Will this cover your consultation fee?”
Naturally, he waved his hands in refusal.
“How could I possibly take money from you?”
As the long-time legal representative of the viscount’s household, he was one of the few who had seen how the viscount abused his daughter. Perhaps that was why he always felt some guilt toward her.
“You must take it. What we’re about to discuss must remain between us alone.”
“Confidentiality is, of course, my duty as a lawyer.”
“No. This time is different. You must also keep it from my father.”
“…What?”
The words froze Algernon’s face. But Dalia reassured him.
“Don’t worry. I only want to ask about the finer details of inheritance law. Nothing that will harm you.”
“….”
After a moment of hesitation, he reluctantly retrieved a thick law book.
Buried in its pages, he finally looked up and nodded.
“Indeed, my lady, your case applies.”
“Even if my father personally designates that child as heir?”
“Yes. He can give money, but not the title or lands. Inheritance of peerage and estate passes only to the eldest child bearing the family name—regardless of gender. As long as you retain the surname Bourbon, you are first in line.”
“May I see it myself?”
“Of course. Here, in Article 2. Rare, but there are precedents. According to national law, any child who does not change their surname upon marriage inherits by birth order. Therefore, unmarried—you are first. If you marry, you fall in rank.”
“And if my husband takes my surname instead?”
