Chapter 57

After dinner, Dahlia and the maids rushed in, their arms full of things.

“Phew, good thing we furnished the room in advance.”

“We’ve prepared rose bath salts, premium oils, and rose-scented perfume.”

“Which nightgown would you like to wear from the ones gifted by the Dowager Duchess and the princesses?”

Their chatter overwhelmed me, and I stared at them, completely dazed.

“Um, I already took a bath.”

The maids sat me down in front of the vanity and started brushing my hair and dressing me up.

“Then you can use the bath salts later and we’ll just help you get ready.”

“A silk slip would be best for tonight, don’t you think?”

As I was tossed around by the maids’ hands, I asked them—

“Why? What’s going on? Why are you dressing me up at bedtime?”

Dahlia, lighting a sweet-scented candle, looked at me with a solemn expression.

“Because tonight is the night you consummate your marriage.”

“Gasp.”

How did it come to this?

The maids’ faces, Dahlia’s included, looked far too enthusiastic for me to claim that we were just going to have a meeting.

“A softer lip color would be better!”

“I don’t think we need any hair accessories.”

“Wait, no—tying it with a ribbon and then letting it loose would be so much more atmospheric…”

Why aren’t they asking me anything?

After that storm passed, they left me with a half-updo and dressed in a slip.

On the table, they had carefully set out dessert, wine, and even candles to set the mood.

“...”

I jumped to my feet, intending to change clothes. To anyone else, I must have looked like someone expecting a hot wedding night.

Just as I was hastily pulling down the shoulder strap of the slip, there was a knock and the door clicked open.

“Oh.”

“Ah.”

I ended up locking eyes with Massera, who was dressed in his uniform and coat.

His expression froze instantly, and he slowly turned around.

“It’s rather disconcerting to see you half-dressed like that.”

Still facing away from me, he said it with deep seriousness.

“And I didn’t come here wearing my uniform for that kind of reason, either.”

Perhaps remembering that I’d once said I liked uniforms, he even offered an excuse.

“It’s just, Dahlia had a huge misunderstanding… Anyway, I’m dressed now.”

I hurriedly threw on a coat as I answered.

“...”

Massera came closer, slowly lowering his gaze.

“There’s something you mustn’t forget.”

“What? That this is an arranged marriage solely for gain?”

I asked brightly, but his expression remained somber.

“No.”

He slowly shook his head, then began fastening the button I’d forgotten to close as he continued speaking.

“Regardless, we’re husband and wife—a man and a woman.”

His voice, low and heavy like a settling fog, made my shoulders tense. My cheeks grew hot—though it wasn’t really from embarrassment, but more from awkwardness.

I couldn’t tell what he meant by that, and didn’t know how to respond.

“Well then, shall we work on the invitation list together?”

I quickly sat down on the sofa, reminding him of our original purpose.

Massera nodded and sat across from me.

As if to push away the subtle tension that had passed between us, we began talking about the guests we’d invite.

“With the World Expo coming up, there will be lots of foreign guests as well…”

From what I’d observed so far, Massera was someone who respected others’ opinions. The fact that he even accepted suggestions from someone like me—essentially his enemy—was proof enough.

“Let’s wrap it up here and revise it later.”

As we were finishing up, Massera looked around the room, decorated with antique furniture and decorations, and asked—

“Did you furnish the room? It was completely empty not long ago.”

“Yes. It looks nice, right?”

“It looks good. I was worried it might look out of place.”

He looked relieved. What on earth had he imagined…?

Dahlia, all that effort consulting with Viego to make it look refined was worth it.

“Did you learn to play the piano?”

He gestured toward the piano in the corner.

“Yes. I’m not very good though.”

“Would you play me a piece?”

Massera made an unexpected request. Maybe he was more sensitive than he let on?

I got up with a confident look on my face and walked over to the piano.

I then placed my fingers on the keys and looked back at him.

“Do you remember the song they played at our wedding?”

Massera silently nodded.

I cleared my throat and straightened my back as I sat on the piano bench.

“This piece is called ‘Dreams of Love.’ You’ll need to practice hard until you can play it without sheet music.”

Suddenly, I recalled the gentle voice of my piano academy director from my past life. I never got to finish my lessons before he was drafted.

Ding—

I stumbled through the notes, trying to bring old memories back to life.

The war had quietly begun beneath the surface of everyday life.

The routine I believed would repeat itself tomorrow collapsed without warning. All I could wish for was that the tragedy I experienced would never happen again.

Diiing—

In the end, I couldn’t play until the end and lifted my hands off the keys.

I couldn’t bear the surge of emotions rising inside me.

“Uh… It’s just been too long since I last played.”

I smiled sheepishly, making an excuse as I was about to get up.

But before I knew it, he had come over, sat beside me, and placed his hands on the keys.

“Though music education is a privilege of the nobility, I learned piano as well.”

“Who taught you?”

“When I was a boy soldier, I was once taken prisoner. I learned from an enemy colonel then.”

Massera pressed the keys with his slender fingers.

“That colonel was said to be a madman—cruel, and a devil-worshipper. But…”

He looked down at me sitting beside him and continued.

“But up close, he was just like any other person. He even let me go, even though I’d annihilated several of their units.”

He began playing the piano with elegance.

The piece, with such a serious backstory, was…

…Chopsticks March.

“So you’re telling me this cruel, devil-worshipping madman colonel took you as a prisoner, taught you Chopsticks March, and then let you go?”

“Yes.”

“I see.”

He looked so serious and sincere that I couldn’t even laugh.

So I solemnly joined him in playing the Chopsticks March.

“Pft.”

But then I couldn’t help it and soon burst into laughter.

He asked with a straight face—

“Is it funny?”

“Just imagining it made me laugh. Sorry.”

“I said it to make you laugh. You looked like you were about to cry.”

His eyes, fixed on me, softened gracefully.

“And I think I’ll have to sleep in this room tonight. Everyone thinks it’s the night we consummate our marriage.”

***

Count Queensguard wore a beaming smile.

The moment articles dismissed the Nox region as useless wasteland, it suddenly transformed into a land of opportunity thanks to Queen Medeia’s investment.

“I think I understand what my eldest son-in-law is planning.”

The Count was well aware of Duke Lucanossa’s inferiority complex toward Massera. It was obvious Helene, who couldn’t stand being outdone by a mere maid, had sided with him too.

Honestly, none of them could see the bigger picture—all they cared about was their pride.

If only Cynthia, not the prideful Helene who took after her mother, were my daughter.

He then suddenly recalled Princess Margarita, who had fled to the North in a miserable state.

You are the knight I trust most.

Startled by the chain of thoughts that surfaced on their own, the Count furrowed his brows.

“...Pointless thoughts.”

He picked up the calendar and fell into contemplation as he counted the days.

“Since she’s been faithfully upholding the contract, this foster father ought to help her.”

Especially to rein in Helene and the Duke from meddling at their own whim.

And with that, Count Queensguard planned to remain in the capital—under the pretense of finding brides for his two sons—while in truth aiming to keep Helene in check and profit from Cynthia.

***

Meanwhile, Carlos had also heard of the Queen’s investment.

His father, the Count, now fully believed that Nox truly held tremendous value.

However, Helene’s reply stated, “There is clearly nothing in Nox. This is just a scheme to lure investors into a baseless development project.”

‘Whatever the outcome, everything will end up in my hands. I still have her weaknesses, after all—posing as royalty, murder…’

He had nothing to lose.

Even if, by some chance, Massera learned the full truth and still accepted Cynthia, there was a good chance he would pay a hefty price to keep someone like him—who knew her weaknesses—quiet.

‘But then, wouldn’t I be unable to use Cynthia anymore?’

[Do you really think she’ll keep looking at you forever? I doubt it. People’s feelings change easily. What will you do if the ties binding her to you come loose?]

That was what Helene had added at the end of her letter.

He recalled the chill in Cynthia’s eyes, so unlike the past, and her voice devoid of emotion.

He thought it might be better to chain her down for life. And now, hadn’t the opportunity to remain in the capital just presented itself?

Just then—

“I wonder how Cynthia would react if she found out I came to the capital to find a marriage partner.”

Surprised that he had spoken his thoughts aloud, Carlos turned his head.

At the doorway stood his younger brother, Edford, puffing up his chest in an arrogant posture.

“Unlike you, I could give up everything if Cynthia chose me.”

All talk, that guy.

Carlos let out a sigh.

Neither of the brothers were aware that the Count was planning to dispose of Cynthia.