The wedding day arrived, marked by a sullen bride and a groom whose sudden proactivity felt jarring.
Grand Duke Lyussenford took the lead, doing his utmost to prepare a proper welcome for his new Grand Duchess. Back in Ostain, her father had been the one making the most noise; he checked every detail repeatedly, insisting that nothing could be missing from the wedding preparations for Kaella, who had been left motherless.
Yet, amid the flurry of preparations, the bride herself remained opinionated-less. Even when asked by the groom’s retinue for her preferences, she offered only the same frustrating reply: she did not care.
Peon, haunted by the memory of their first wedding—a day he had barely registered because he had been too consumed by his own misery to do anything but purposefully ignore her—wanted to do better this time. Though Kaella would never know the weight of his regret, he felt such profound guilt that he poured his heart into every minor detail.
However, he was finding it increasingly difficult to keep his composure.
Have you ever remarried a woman you killed with your own hands?
･ ｡ﾟ✧: *. ꕥ .* :✧ﾟ. ･
The woman walking slowly down the aisle, her hand tucked into her father’s arm, was a vision of a radiant spring bride.
She looked entirely out of place beside the man who ruled the North—a land defined by the dull, biting gloom of eternal winter.
She didn’t match him. Her cheeks were flushed a shy, rosy hue; her eyes, framed by long, dark lashes, held the clarity of a vast sky; and her straight nose and lips, red as her cheeks, were delicately set into her small face. The wedding dress and veil, draped over her slender frame, were train-long, meant to symbolize the wealth of Ostain and the glory of Lyussenford. The woman was breathtaking.
“I’ve never seen a wedding so rushed, yet they’ve managed to cover every single base.”
“The Duchess Monde didn’t come, did she?”
“If she had, she’d have been executed on the spot. Where does she think she is, daring to show her face here?”
The whispers drifted to the ears of the man who was marrying the same woman for the second time. These were sounds that hadn’t reached him during his first wedding.
Peon also realized, for the first time today, that the bride walking toward him bore no expression. What was she like before the regression? As an indifferent husband, he couldn’t even remember. It would have been fortunate if the unhappy bride, forced into this union, hadn’t cried while being dragged toward him. Now, despite having one of the wealthiest fathers in the empire, she remained an unhappy bride.
“What is that well-raised lady going to do, heading all the way to that cold place?”
“There must be better suitors out there; His Majesty is truly…”
“It’s only good for the Grand Duke of Lyussenford, who gained a wealthy wife. And good for His Majesty, who gets to send less financial support.”
The majestic organ music was clearly a celebratory piece, but to the bride walking down the aisle, it sounded like a funeral march.
Have you ever remarried a man who murdered you?
Despite all her refusals and defiance, Kaella, marrying the Grand Duke of Lyussenford for a second time on a sunny spring day, walked quietly toward her end. She moved like livestock being led to the slaughterhouse, thinking, *This is the path to my death.*
“Kaella. It was my wish to walk down the aisle with you, and I am so happy today.”
Adeo, who had walked her to the end of the aisle, smiled kindly. Amidst the biting glares of the court, only the bride’s father was pouring his heart, sincerity, and affection into his daughter.
To Kaella, this wedding meant nothing, so she felt nothing. It wasn’t her first time; it was her second. Why would she be nervous to marry the same man again?
The flowers signifying a happy marriage, the gold coins sewn into the soles of her shoes for prosperity, the sweeping veil that supposedly mirrored the groom’s love—Kaella, who had once imbued every one of these symbols with meaning, now knew them to be empty gestures. She had learned thoroughly from her last marriage that making such a fuss yielded nothing.
The young girl who had lost her mother had tried hard to follow all the customs so as not to be criticized. But because there was no adult to guide her, there were naturally many things to be faulted, and she had spent many nights crying alone.
But this time, the bride did not flutter about. She had a father who insisted on excellence because it was his daughter’s wedding. She had a father who said he was happy to hold her hand until the very end. That was why, just once, Kaella had been able to look at her father and truly smile.
“Both of you must be happy.”
Peon felt ashamed before the Marquis of Ostain, who told him that his daughter—and he himself—needed to be happy.
“We have gathered here today to bless this holy matrimony…”
He was committing an unforgivable sin against Kaella once more. The man who had foolishly ended their first holy marriage was clinging on desperately, feeling as though he might lose his mind at the start of this new one.
From this moment on, standing in this place, Ostain and Lyussenford were one body. He must not falter. He simply had to focus on not wavering this time, achieving his goal, and above all, keeping Kaella safe.
*‘No, I should send her away after keeping her safe.’*
He kept conveniently forgetting the part about sending her away. He had to send her away. Even though his only bride, standing beside him, was too beautiful and noble, he was not worthy of her. He kept forgetting that for his own comfort. Since he now had the confidence to protect her, the easy thought of *couldn’t I just keep her?* took over his mind. He hadn’t intended to hide his true colors upon regressing, but still, he had to keep his manners and his promises to Kaella.
He had promised to send her away; he had to keep it.
The wedding, held while the Empress remained collapsed, was quiet, solemn, and although not boisterous, it carried immense prestige. Peon, who only had memories of his first wedding as an annoying, irritating, and humiliating affair, hoped Kaella didn’t feel the same way about this one.
“It feels more like a ceremony praying for the Empress’s recovery than a wedding.”
He heard the cynical remarks of the Northern people, who were known to not fear the Emperor. It was a jab at the Emperor, who had only realized he was aging after the crisis of potentially losing the Empress.
The Emperor had searched for a Crown Princess candidate for Gregory, whom he had put in the hollow position of Crown Prince, and had also settled the marriage matter of Peon, which should have been done long ago. It was all just the Emperor’s unilateral whim.
“At least I can face the Empress with some dignity now.”
That was the “well-wishing” the Emperor had offered at the long reception after the wedding; it was pathetic. The Emperor, drunk on his own sense of playing “father” and “emperor,” seemed to believe that such gestures would wake the Empress.
“She will wake up soon, and I was worried sick about what I would have done by then. But you two have done a great deed. Now I can show my face.”
He had subjected the Empress to nothing but violence and abuse from the beginning; it was laughable to think she would look favorably upon him just because he had rushed through the formal processes of a wedding. Of course, Kaella simply answered him like a hollow doll, saying “Yes, yes,” while appearing well-behaved.
The newlyweds would stay briefly at the Imperial Palace before heading straight to Lyussenford. Since the Grand Duke had heavy responsibilities, they couldn’t go on a separate honeymoon, so the journey to the North served as the honeymoon. For Kaella, it was a path she had already traveled, and she had no interest in it.
“She is a bit frail, so I am worried. I entrust her to you.”
Adeo’s face was full of concern for his daughter as he said those words.
“I will do my best. I, too, entrust her to you.”
Peon, who had bowed sincerely only to Adeo—and not the Emperor—could not bring himself to smile, even as a groom who had just finished his wedding.
“Be happy.”
Leaving behind the hollow well-wishes of the Emperor—the man who was the greatest source of their misfortune—the newly married couple boarded the carriage.
Having woken up at the crack of dawn and endured a reception that lasted from morning until dusk, Kaella was utterly drained. She had changed her dress twice, had her hair styled twice, and had been so busy receiving greetings that by the time the sun set, she was completely exhausted.
Just because she wasn’t nervous didn’t mean she wasn’t tired. Just because it was her second time didn’t mean the wedding was familiar. If anything, this event was far grander, leaving her more worn out than the last.
As the carriage door clicked shut and they left behind the waving crowds, the cheers faded and silence filled the interior. Only then did Kaella realize what had truly vanished from her.
*‘It was hope.’*
A sense of resignation crushed her. With hope gone, there was nothing to look forward to. Like a well-decorated porcelain doll, she sat quietly until they reached the detached palace that the Grand Duke of Lyussenford occupied whenever he stayed at the Imperial Palace. It was called a “detached palace,” but it was little more than a decent residence within the Imperial grounds.
Today, the Emperor had declared two days of holiday, wishing for the Empress’s recovery and a happy marriage for his son. But unlike the cheers outside, a cold peace surrounded the place where the newlyweds were staying. Kaella didn’t care about the peace.
“Please rest well.”
When she entered the bridal chamber after washing her tired body, Kaella was naturally alone. She knew exactly what would unfold next. Peon would not enter this room today. Even when they shared a suite, he had always slept on the sofa far away; he had never once stepped into the same bed.
“Ah, I’m so tired…”
They say some people have simple ceremonies when they remarry. Kaella, who had collapsed onto the wide bed without any regard for the dignity of a new bride, let out a dry laugh.
What was the first wedding night like? Had she cried, thinking of her departed father, or had she pinned futile hopes on her new husband? She seemed to remember waiting for a husband who didn’t come, trying to remain calm.
But the only thing she could think of now was her father’s smile from earlier. He had said it was a father’s duty to walk his daughter down the aisle, and he had looked so proud. She had gone through a wedding where there was no one to show her “happy life” to, but today, her father was there, and that was enough.
After lying face down for a while, reaching that conclusion, Kaella moved sluggishly. She crawled clumsily across the wrinkle-free sheets, fumbled to lift the quilt, and flopped down again. Even getting under the covers was difficult. Being dressed in a heavy gown and wearing heels all day was something she was used to, but today, the fatigue was worse than ever.
*‘I’ll just rest for a moment before getting in to sleep.’*
She was trying to gather the strength to lift the quilt again when—click—the door opened and someone entered.
“…Are you asleep?”
The quietly dropped voice was not a question, but a confirmation.
Why is he coming in? Kaella replied while still face down.
“No.”
*Ah, I should get up. It’s rude to receive someone while lying face down.* Her dulled mind moved slowly. *Or rather, would it be such a big deal if I were a little rude?* She lacked the energy to care.
“Why are you like that? Are you very tired?”
“I only have the strength to move my mouth. No, I am not.”
She heard footsteps approaching. If she were a normal noblewoman, she would have felt threatened by being alone in a bedroom with a man like Peon, but Kaella wasn’t afraid in the slightest. This man wasn’t the type to lay hands on a woman. Besides, would he even have any interest in her?
So, Kaella, who had been completely flopped over, was startled when her body was suddenly hoisted up. Peon, who had swept her up, lifted the quilt and held her, laying her down with only her feet poking out.
“Take off your slippers.”
“Huh? Why?”
“Are you going to get on the bed wearing shoes?”
Well, she couldn’t do that. Blinking, Kaella kicked off her slippers. Just as she was about to ask if he was satisfied, she heard a muffled laugh, and he tucked her right into the quilt. Having handled her as easily as a doll, he furrowed his brow slightly and walked with long strides toward the bedroom door again.
“Is there no one here who knows how to give a massage?”
The junior maid belonging to the Empress’s Palace, who had been waiting, blinked.
“The lady’s legs and feet are so swollen that I doubt she will be able to sleep.”
“Ah. I will prepare a basin of hot water, towels, and oil.”
“No, just someone who knows how to give a massage…”
The older maid smiled. She was someone who had long been in charge of actual work at the Empress’s Palace, so she was familiar with Peon.
“It would be best if the new groom did it for the Grand Duchess.”
The new groom was flustered. The change in title from ‘lady’ to ‘Grand Duchess’ felt fresh, and he was flustered because he knew exactly what the maid’s smile implied. As if they had already prepared the hot water, the maid quickly brought the items.
“Have a pleasant time.”
What is this? Kaella looked back and forth between the visibly flustered Peon and the door that was firmly closing once again.
Her legs were swollen, but she was used to falling asleep with her body aching. She had intended to ignore her husband, pull the quilt over her head, and get a good night’s sleep; why was that man continuing to do things he never did before?
“I’ll just sleep, um.”
Kaella, who was about to say, *I’ll just sleep*, remembered that she had signed the marriage certificate alongside Peon today. She was the Grand Duchess now, and she felt she should return to using formal language. And truthfully, she preferred it that way. Using informal language meant their relationship was close. Peon, who had dissolved their ‘older brother-younger sister’ dynamic the moment they married, was not someone she was close to.
“I’ll just sleep.”
His broad shoulders seemed to flinch at the return of her formal tone. Well, it must sound awkward. But what could she do? Now that she was the Grand Duchess, she couldn’t have it said that she was being insolent. Remembering her days as a Grand Duchess who was almost obsessive about maintaining etiquette, she decided that, yes, formal language was definitely better.
“Please, don’t worry about it.”
After saying just that, she completely shut off her interest in Peon and closed her eyes.
“…Alright, then.”
Along with a hesitant, low voice, the room became a little darker.
“Good night.”
Unexpectedly, a greeting she had never heard before reached her. Instead of answering, Kaella shivered as she lay on her side.
She had a persistent and ominous feeling that the man she had married this time was truly strange, but for now, she squeezed her eyes shut. There was no turning back. With no way to return, she had to walk once again down the path of death she had already walked.