For a noble, marriage was an unavoidable obligation. It was the mechanism by which alliances were solidified and heirs produced to carry the family name. Only through these unions could the wealth and lineage passed from generation to generation be preserved.
Born into the imperial family, Kaella understood this well. Her initial strategy had been simple: survive the crisis of her father’s impending death, then scout for a husband far superior to Peon.
A matrilocal marriage would have been her ideal, but suitable candidates were, in truth, rare. More than that, Kaella had no intention of marrying again. She simply wished that, having collapsed, she wouldn’t have to open her eyes.
Since she had seen that her father was still alive, why couldn’t she just pass away now? If she were destined to be dragged off to Lyussenford against her will, she would rather die in peace.
“Young Lady!”
The precious daughter of the house of Ostain finally stirred. The faces of her worried maid, the doctor, and her father—who had been guarding her bedside—came into view. She caught sight of the excessively calm, peaceful morning light streaming through the window and parted her parched lips. Exhausted by the high fever, she couldn’t summon a voice.
“Yes, Kaella. Yes.”
Her father, who had raised his only daughter with his own hands, understood her silent plea. He leaned in, listening to her wheezing breath.
“Three days have passed, Kaella. Three.”
That was more than enough time for the arrangements to have been finalized.
“I told His Majesty that you were exhausted and had fallen ill from the stress of your first major task. He expressed his concern and sent medicine and a doctor.”
Knowing what weighed most heavily on his daughter’s heart, Adeo spoke softly of the Emperor to ease her mind.
“Prince Elkanan also left his greetings and a gift. He lamented that he could not bid you farewell before his departure.”
“Marriage….”
At the word she squeezed out in a dry, strained voice, Adeo gestured to the doctor.
“Let’s start with the examination first, and speak after you’ve had something to eat.”
It was already too late. Three days had passed; the marriage was inevitable.
･ ｡ﾟ✧: *. ꕥ .* :✧ﾟ. ･
Of course, that didn’t mean she could simply submit. Burning with a singular, icy rage, Kaella kicked off the covers and bolted from the bed.
“Young Lady, please! You’ve been suffering from a high fever for three days. If you go out now, you’ll collapse again! You might even catch pneumonia!”
The entire household staff tried to hold her back, but she was out of options. She knew the Duke of Lyussenford too well; he was not the type to come just because she asked. She had to be the one to seek him out.
She had to stop this insane union. It was a tragedy that should never have occurred—a path where everyone involved ended up miserable and wretched.
“No! Absolutely not! It would be better to send word and ask him to come to you!”
The maids, the butler, and the knights paced in a frenzy, unaware of the gravity of her mission. But they could not stop a high-born lady asserting her will for the first time.
“Then please, just wait a little longer! We have a guest arriving for lunch!”
“That is Father’s guest, not mine.”
*Oh, dear.* Their young lady could barely wheeze, let alone speak. Where did she think she was going? The butler felt like weeping.
“It is your fiancé, Young Lady! The Duke of Lyussenford is coming!”
She wanted to scream, *“Who made him my fiancé!”*, but her throat felt as if it were tearing.
“Butler, I see the Duke’s carriage!”
“Oh, my Lady, please. I beg of you. Just stay still. Please?”
It so happened that the Duke of Ostain had returned to the Imperial Palace to finalize negotiations with Kerujan, leaving the butler to plead with the Duke of Lyussenford to wait. The butler caught one glimpse of the young lady sitting on the edge of the bed before he hurried out. Unlike the carriages of the house of Ostain, the Duke of Lyussenford’s horse had traveled with such speed that by the time the butler reached the entrance, the Duke was already dismounting.
“Welcome, Your Grace. I apologize, but my master has gone to the Imperial Palace urgently due to negotiations with Kerujan. He asked if you could wait a moment.”
“And the Young Lady?”
He was the one who had scooped her up when she collapsed in the audience chamber.
“She woke up this morning, but her condition still requires observation. She has been quite ill.”
The Duke of Lyussenford did not look at the butler; his gaze drifted up the stairs.
“If she requires observation, why is she walking about?”
“Pardon?”
The butler followed the Duke’s gaze and nearly fainted. Standing on the stairs, draped only in her nightclothes and a loose shawl, the Young Lady stood, huffing with fury.
“Look at me, Your Grace.”
Kaella, having spoken with the loudest voice she could muster, turned sharply and stumbled, catching herself against the wall. A wave of vertigo hit her. Still, she had to pull herself together to deal with Peon.
She gasped for air, waiting for the room to stop spinning. The maids rushed to support her in a panic, but she pushed them aside, forcing her legs to move.
“Excuse me for a moment.”
Before she could take another step, a heavy, low voice sounded behind her, and her body was swept into the air. Kaella stared blankly, her reflexes slowed by her recent collapse.
“Put me down. I’ll go myself.”
“Where is the bedroom?”
Peon ignored her, asking the maid instead. The maid bowed and led the way. Kaella almost protested again but held her tongue. It was better to save her meager strength.
“Lie down, My Lady.”
“Is this the time for lying down?”
“I will stay by your side until you tell me to leave. Now, go to the bed.”
The maid quickly piled pillows so Kaella could sit upright, then pulled back the bed curtains and cleared away the medicine bottles. Peon pushed her into the thick covers, dragged over a chair, and sat down.
“Everyone out.”
The maids and knights looked deeply unsettled, but given Kaella’s stubbornness, they had no choice but to retreat and close the door.
“Is a princess coming from Kerujan to marry?”
That was what Kaella had discovered while her father was away. Her tone was formal and polite, but deeply defensive. Peon nodded silently.
“Yes. The Crown Prince and the Princess of Kerujan are engaged. Have you eaten anything?”
Krania was forming a marriage alliance with Kerujan—a match of equal status. It was a far more significant union than the marriage between Prince Elkanan, a member of a collateral branch, and Kaella, herself a member of a secondary line. And yet, she was the one being forced to marry the Duke of Lyussenford. Why?
“What was your answer to the Duke, Your Grace?”
She knew her father couldn’t resist the Emperor. Kaella was the same. Even holding the wealth of the Ostain Duchy, they couldn’t dare pressure the cunning Emperor. If they did, the Emperor’s army would crush them.
She needed to trust in Peon, who had resisted violently before his death. He had been crushed just as hard as he had fought. Had he never realized the Emperor enjoyed that defiance? This tactless, wooden man hadn’t known that the Emperor thrived on humiliating those who resisted. But right now, she needed that resistance.
“My answer cannot influence the Emperor’s will.”
“So now you are going to marry me, leaving Lady Lavalle behind?”
Kaella was seething. Fury surged to her head. *Is this man insane?* Throughout their previous marriage, the people of Lyussenford had constantly called for his “Beatrice.” Kaella had felt as if she were married to Beatrice, not Peon. *If you loved her so much, you should have loved each other until you died! I would have disappeared—you could have been happy forever!*
“Do you think this makes any sense? Is this what you want? The entire Empire knows who you love, Your Grace! Why hold onto a love you cannot even protect?”
The words brought a strange, bitter relief.
“You should have at least run away together!”
They should have. Rather than treating the woman who became Kaella Ferraro after marriage as if she were less than air, they should have vanished together.
Of course, knowing what she knew, Beatrice Lavalle probably wouldn’t have considered it. Peon was the only fool. An utter idiot.
“Have you spoken to Lady Lavalle about it?”
“Yes, I proposed.”
That was news to her. Kaella’s eyes widened.
“I told His Majesty on the first day the Kerujan delegation arrived, but he only replied that it was time for me to marry, and this is how it ended up.”
He had tried to marry Beatrice, but the Emperor had forced Kaella upon him instead.
“And?”
Peon looked at Kaella. Her eyes were rimmed with red, and she was clearly too weak to even host a guest. He watched her with deep, growing anxiety; she looked as though she would break if touched. Yet, those eyes—the color of a cold, wintry sky—burned with intense fury.
He couldn’t tell her that he had been running himself ragged trying to stop this marriage. If he hadn’t succeeded by now, it was nothing more than a cowardly excuse.
“So, are you going to abandon Lady Lavalle and marry me, just as His Majesty commands? You will never be able to forget her for the rest of your life.”
Kaella spoke with the weight of prophecy. Before her regression, when the Emperor had ordered the marriage, she had obeyed in silence. She hadn’t raged at him like this.
Back then, the Emperor had sucked the life out of Ostain and dumped the heir onto Peon. To the Emperor, Lyussenford was nothing more than a convenient trash heap.
“I know well that this is an absurd marriage for you, My Lady.”
Both Adeo and Peon were illegitimate, but their statuses differed. Adeo De Chasseur was an Emperor’s illegitimate son, acknowledged and granted a surname. Peon was the illegitimate son of the Empress, meant to be despised. Added to that, with a lover everyone assumed would eventually be the Duchess, he was hardly a match for Kaella.
“His Majesty believes the Ostain Duchy should not be inherited by the eldest son of Prince Elkanan.”
Noble marriages were calculations. With the Duke of Ostain alive and the Empress having collapsed, the Emperor was tightening his grip on the imperial line.
“The Princess of Kerujan marrying the Crown Prince is a matter of solidifying an alliance.”
“And it is to the Empire’s benefit that the Ostain Duchy remain within its borders rather than falling to Kerujan.”
Kaella understood immediately, and Peon nodded.
“Then what is my benefit, or yours, Your Grace?”
She wanted to push this man and Beatrice off a cliff. It was an intense, violent impulse she had never felt in her life.
She clenched her fists, shoved herself upright, and glared at him—at the man who was his own snare.
“You will be miserable for the rest of your life, Your Grace.”
That was the same for her. But Peon was better off. At least he was alive when she was dying.
“You will think of me every time you see her. You love her deeply, don’t you? So leave. Even the Empress has collapsed, so what is the point of all this? Go. Fulfill that love.”
Kaella’s fury was so hot it felt frigid. Her gaze bordered on madness. She urged him on precisely because she knew where this path led.
Beatrice was not the problem. If Peon ran away with her, the Emperor would never let him be. The Emperor despised nothing more than those who defied his orders and tarnished his honor.
For Kaella, who had fulfilled her duties as the Duchess of Lyussenford only to be ignored, mocked by lower nobles, and starved to death, her shattered pride remained a jagged blade.
“Even if you keep acting like this, His Majesty will never acknowledge your merits. Look. You said you would marry Lady Lavalle, and he immediately ordered you to marry me instead.”
She was breathless. She knew this anger was temporary—a flare that would eventually cool into despair. But until the last spark died, she would rage. She wanted to vent every drop of her agony.
“If things continue, you will lose everything. Grab onto at least one thing that is certain.”
*Go ahead, follow it to the bitter end with that foolishly loved Beatrice.* Kaella, knowing what kind of person Beatrice truly was, was effectively casting a curse.
“I will help you. If you can’t make it work, you should at least run away for love—what are you doing right now?”
She lashed out, then collapsed against the pillows, gasping. Even then, those pale eyes remained fixed on him.
*If Beatrice was so precious that you could ignore me, then you should have the courage to risk your life now!*
Peon, who had listened in silence, spoke heavily.
“I am now certain that you wish to avoid marrying me at all costs, My Lady. I understand. I also know that you are more than qualified to find a groom better than me.”
“And?”
The sharp retort cut through the air. Peon hesitated, a sudden, piercing curiosity overriding his composure.
Did Kaella, who had been forced into this marriage after losing her father, hate it this much? Or was she, now… was there perhaps…
“Do you have no intention of being with Lady Lavalle?”
Kaella, who had always been composed, snapped before he could answer.
“Then I shall show you.”
Accustomed to a husband who never answered no matter how much she spoke, Kaella attempted to run away from home that very night.