Brittany arrived at Rishi’s door to find, fortunately, that no one was guarding it.
Even so, she hesitated to open it. The lively conversation spilling from within acted like a solid wall, barring her entry.
“Wow, Rishi. You look so beautiful.”
“This?”
“It’s stunning. Simply stunning. Especially the line from your shoulder down to your back…”
“Aha, that tickles, Nela.”
“If my brother sees you like this, he’s going to lose his mind. Truly.”
Brittany gritted her teeth, the memory of the dining room stinging fresh. Jen and Nela—who had treated her as if she were invisible only moments ago—were now chattering in Rishi’s room as if they were her dearest confidantes.
*Should I just turn back?*
No. She had to be certain. She had to know if Tioret had really come.
Brittany took a steadying breath and schooled her features. She smoothed her expression into that of a devoted sister—someone who cared deeply, worried constantly, and cherished her younger sibling. She had failed in the dining room, but she would not fail now.
*Knock, knock.*
The conversation inside cut off instantly.
The door creaked open, and Krisina poked her head out.
“I came to see Rishi.”
“Ah, just a moment.”
Krisina shut the door in her face. Brittany glared at the wood. *How dare she.*
When the door finally opened again, Brittany was already wearing a polished, elegant smile.
“Please, come in.” Krisina stepped aside.
As Brittany entered, she surveyed the room. Dresses were strewn everywhere. And there, standing amidst the chaos, was a small woman with short blue hair and red-rimmed glasses.
It was Tioret. Truly her.
Brittany gasped, a sharp intake of breath, before turning her gaze to Rishi.
Rishi was draped in a black dress of sheer material, so thin it looked as if she were wearing nothing at all. The back was cut perilously low, leaving her smooth, pale skin completely exposed; the dark fabric only made her radiance sharper.
“What is it?”
Jen, who stood beside Rishi clutching a dress like a common maid, asked in an informal, dismissive tone. Brittany didn’t let her elegant smile falter.
“I came to chat with my sister, but I didn’t realize you were this busy.”
“Ah. As you can see, we are.”
Jen shot her a look that clearly screamed, *If you know that, then get lost.* Brittany pretended not to notice.
“It seems you’re fitting your wedding dress. But this looks a bit revealing for a wedding, doesn’t it? Rishi, are you still insisting on such styles?”
Rishi offered only a faint, hollow smile. It was more frustrating than a rebuttal. Had Rishi argued back, Brittany could have spun a narrative about how Rishi had *always* been this way.
“What’s wrong with this dress?” Nela chimed in. “Doesn’t it suit her perfectly? In my eyes, it’s incredibly beautiful.”
“Of course it is,” Tioret added. “Our Rishi looks good in anything. Her face is a treasure. We’ve tried on everything I brought, and there isn’t a single piece that doesn’t suit her. It’s the first time I’ve felt so rewarded for my work. If I could, I’d gift her the whole collection. If Iris wears them, the publicity would be incredible.”
At those words, Brittany felt a tight squeeze in her ribs, but she kept her composure.
“My, Tioret, you’re already famous. But a gift? That would be wonderful for our Rishi. She’s always been fond of such expensive things. Thanks to that, I’ve inherited quite a few of them myself.”
Once again, Rishi simply smiled—an attitude that suggested, *Go ahead, believe whatever you like.*
Jen, Nela, Tioret, and the attendants were well-versed in the subtle psychological warfare of high society. They saw the thorns in Brittany’s words clearly, though Brittany remained blissfully unaware.
“Still, I worry, Rishi. A luxurious wedding is nice, but you are the mistress of the Green family now. It’s not wise to be as wasteful as you were when you were a maiden. So, I was thinking…”
Brittany turned to Jen and Nela. “We will cover the costs of Rishi’s wedding from our Wittlow Duchy.”
It was an empty gesture. It was custom for the groom’s side to pay, and she was certain the Green family would never deign to ask for help from the bride’s family. She expected a polite refusal: *‘Oh, how kind of you? I am grateful just for the thought.’*
“That’s a great idea, sister.”
Rishi, who hadn’t said a word until now, spoke up.
Brittany’s eyes widened. Rishi was still smiling.
“I was actually worried because my husband-to-be seems to spend too much money. There could be nothing better than my own family taking responsibility for the wedding expenses for my sake. Please convey my thanks to Mother and Father.”
The floor seemed to drop from beneath Brittany. She was utterly flustered. The ideal response would have been a quick, *‘Yes, of course, but try not to be so wasteful in the future,’* but she couldn’t even summon the words.
There were dozens of dresses in this room alone. One single gown from Tioret cost more than the living expenses of a minor noble family for several months. Even if the Wittlow Duchy sat on a gold mine, this was an impossible feat.
*Gulp.*
Brittany swallowed hard. *What do I do?*
She couldn’t find a graceful exit. She had been the one to offer; she couldn’t take it back. Her heart hammered against her chest. She did not want to pay for this wedding. She waited for Rishi to say she was joking, or for Jen to insist that the groom’s side would cover it.
But they stayed silent, just watching her. Not one person gave her the lifeline she desperately needed.
Her heart tightened. She wanted to cry.
Finally, scrambling for composure, she managed to choke out, “I—if we cover the costs… will that be all right? Since it’s only natural for the groom’s side to pay, people might talk.”
“It’s fine,” Jen replied calmly. “It was an offer you made first, Brittany. There’s no one who would dare talk behind the Green family’s back over this.”
The escape route was gone. Brittany forgot entirely about maintaining her facade. With trembling eyes, she looked back at the mountain of dresses.
*Would these alone cost years of living expenses?* And that wasn’t even touching the budget for the party Nela was planning.
“I am…”
She needed to flee. She wanted to say it was a joke, but the cold, expectant atmosphere made it impossible. Tioret and her assistants were staring right at her.
“Then… let’s do that.”
Brittany turned away, her face drained of color, and rushed out of the room as if she were fleeing a fire. Tears pricked her eyes as she sprinted down the hall.
*‘What do I do? What do I do?’*
***
“What kind of crazy talk is that!”
Brittany bowed her head as Glovern roared. It was the first time she had seen him this furious, but she understood—she felt like screaming herself.
“We are covering the wedding costs?! Do you have any idea how much that is? I heard they requested construction machinery from the Mage Tower. Do you know the rental cost for that?”
“B-but… Rishi insisted that we would pay…”
“Then you should have stopped her! You should have corrected her! What were you doing sitting there?”
“How could I? Rishi said our parents would want to pay.”
“Why couldn’t you? You could have calmly explained it isn’t customary for the bride’s side to pay. Jeresien Green and Countess Jenner aren’t unreasonable; they would have understood!”
*Surely, they would have.*
The problem was that *she* had been the one to suggest it. But in front of the livid Glovern, Brittany couldn’t bring herself to confess.
“Oh, my head. That girl has lost her mind…” Denise clutched her temples and collapsed onto the sofa.
“Anyway, no! I will absolutely not pay. It’s impossible!”
“But… Father. Our family’s honor is at stake…”
“Honor? The ones who tainted our honor are them! If Iris suggested such a thing, someone should have intervened. Wasn’t Jeresien there?”
“U-uh…”
“It’s not just a penny or two. I’m going to lodge a formal protest!”
“T-to whom? To Iris?”
“To Count Green!”
+++
Glovern marched off to confront Count Green, but he froze the moment he faced him.
“W-what did you say?”
“I said thank you for the generous proposal Miss Brittany made, Duke Witlow.”
“W-what is that supposed to mean…?”
“Ah, did you not hear? Miss Brittany came to Iris’s room of her own volition and insisted the House of Witlow would cover the dresses and the entire cost of the wedding.”
The blood drained from Glovern’s face. “O-our Brittany would never…”
“Why wouldn’t she? She cherishes her younger sister so much, she must have wanted to contribute. You have a truly kind daughter, Duke.”
Glovern felt the room spinning. “Count Green. Are you perhaps taking advantage of my daughter’s naivety?”
“By the Duke’s daughter, do you mean Miss Brittany, or Iris?”
“Naturally, I am talking about Brittany!”
“Ah. I see. I hadn’t even guessed.”
Glovern felt a surge of pure frustration. “Our Brittany is…” He began to defend her innocence, but caught himself—this wasn’t the time. “A-anyway, she would never say such a thing. And since the bride’s side paying is against custom, the Green family will only be mocked. Let’s just pretend this never happened.”
“Hmm. Duke, you are mistaken. First, there are many witnesses: our Jeresien, Countess Nellanikus Jenner, the designer Tioret, and her party.”
Glovern swallowed hard. He hadn’t realized so many were present.
“If the story changes now, won’t the House of Witlow become the laughingstock? And—”
Glovern tried to interrupt, but Kay held up a finger.
“Second. Marrying into our House Green is a great honor for the House of Witlow. People won’t think it strange if you bear the costs—they will think it a natural gesture for such a prestigious alliance.”
It was true. The Green family was beyond such petty gossip.
Glovern’s heart hammered. He couldn’t just admit he couldn’t afford it. Most of his capital was tied up in courting the Crown Prince’s circle and maintaining his own luxury. He didn’t have the liquid assets for this.
Kay sat with his legs crossed, a faint, predatory smile on his face, waiting for an answer.