Before I knew it, the day of our engagement ceremony had arrived.
“This is the estimated budget for the ceremony. Please review and approve it when you have a moment. Also, if you let us know who you’d like to invite, we’ll begin sending out the invitations…”
“But, we already filed the marriage registration, didn’t we? Do we really need to go through with an engagement ceremony too?”
Why are we doing this, anyway?
That question had been nagging at me for a while now.
The aide, of course, offered the most lackluster explanation possible.
“It’s just a formality.”
Unsatisfied, I—being the kind of person who couldn’t leave a curiosity unresolved—headed straight to the mansion library and buried myself in a family law textbook.
Turns out, the official approval of a marriage registration isn’t complete until the wedding ceremony is held. But, nowhere did it say an engagement ceremony was mandatory.
So why were we doing this again?
After finishing my makeup, I gazed out the window and watched a line of cars pulling up to the estate.
Checking the time, I rose from my seat and made my way to Maceira’s office.
Knock knock.
The door opened, revealing Maceira in full formal military attire.
Regardless of how he felt about me, we had to enter the engagement hall together, so I’d come to fetch him myself.
“I’ve come to escort you,” I said with a grin. “Isn’t it cool?”
I wasn’t expecting a reply.
As usual, he stayed glued to the papers in front of him, completely unfazed. Not even a glance in my direction.
I lifted the hem of my dress just slightly and spoke in a cheerful tone.
“The engagement dress you prepared for me is really pretty. You really have a good eye!”
I twirled lightly, showing off the dress with a flurry of sparkles and flair, only for Maceira’s face to harden like stone.
“That dress was sent by your brother, Viscount Carlos.”
Carlos sent it? That bastard? I immediately froze, my expression hardened.
“Oh, I meant that sarcastically. It’s hideous, actually. Should I go change?
With a cool, downward glance, Maceira finally spoke.
“Whatever you wear—”
“You mean, whatever I wear, I’ll still look lovely? Thank you.”
“I meant I don’t care.”
“Oh, so it goes without saying. No need to thank you. Got it.”
Maceira finally said what he wanted to say, and I, of course, used my invincible power: hearing only what I wanted to hear.
Maceira, still as stone-faced as ever, waved a hand dismissively.
“I have urgent documents to deal with. Just sit somewhere quietly.”
“Where should I sit?”
“Or don’t. Just stand. And if you could keep your mouth shut for ten minutes, that would be great.”
His courteous rudeness never fails to impress.
In protest, I stood tall and unyielding right in front of his desk.
Ten minutes passed. Well, almost. I’d say about 9.5.
Time to speak again.
“When we’re in front of my family, please act affectionate. Like we’re desperately in love.”
“I told you not to make demands of me. And it hasn’t been ten minutes yet.”
“But legally, we’re not considered fully married until the wedding’s done, right? What if my doting father gets upset and cancels the engagement?”
Maceira looked at me in silence.
During that brief 9.5 minute of silence, I had already analyzed the blueprints and documents I could see on his desk.
In noble marriages, both families usually trade favors or assets. What he had demanded from the Count Queensguard was a barren wasteland called Nox.
The Earl paid a huge price to the point of committing a fraudulent marriage, and in return, he received useless land.
[Bariesa Royal Heritage]
Judging by the documents, it was property once owned by the royal family.
There was a very specific reason Maceira wanted this land, despite the higher taxes it would incur.
[Large-scale Development Project Plan]
Development was planned for the land, including a railway. That alone meant it was insanely valuable.
There was a high chance the area held vast reserves of resources. From Maceira, he couldn’t afford for this marriage to fall through.
Of course, there was no way Count Queensguard, who is obsessed with money and would sell his soul for a coin, wasn’t aware of this.
I recalled something I’d read in a family law book and clenched my fist tightly.
[If a spouse dies within one year of marriage, the dowry is returned to the spouse’s family.]
The Count was playing a very long game.
He intended to reclaim the land, after the development was funded by Maceira’s money.
Through my death.
The good thing was that Maceira wouldn’t be the one to kill me. At least not within the first year of marriage.
If I wanted to survive Count Queensguard for a year, and have a shot at negotiating even if my real identity came to light, I needed Maceira’s trust.
Winning that man’s heart was the only answer.
“…Let’s go.”
Maceira stood, brushing off his coat now that his business was done.
I matched my pace with his long, quick strides and said, “Should we come up with pet names to to look like we’re dying in love?”
That way, the Count wouldn’t dare lay a hand on me.
“I’d rather die.”
He said it with the scariest face I’d ever seen.
Ugh, such a cranky cheese cat. Why does he hate everything so much?
* * *
The banquet hall hosting the engagement ceremony was packed with guests.
A noblewoman pointed somewhere across the room and said to her companions, “Look, the entire Queensguard family is here.”
Where she gestured, Count Queensguard stood surrounded by people, along with Helene, Carlos, and Edford.
This was also the first time the veiled heirs of House Queensguard had shown their faces in society.
“They’re all so good-looking.”
“The children look like their father.”
No one even suspected that Edford, who had such a different appearance, belonged to the Queensguard family.
Meanwhile, Carlos, holding a glass of champagne, was staring intently at today’s leading lady, Cynthia, who stood atop the ceremony staircase.
Adorned in an expensive dress and glittering jewelry, she looked stunning, enough to captivate any man’s gaze.
Next to her stood Maceira, his expression a touch cold, but with a faint smile on his lips.
“I’ve never seen a couple that beautiful. It’s like a painting come to life.”
Even from a distance, their striking appearances earned nothing but praise from onlookers.
Carlos felt a twist of irritation in his gut for some reason.
At that moment, Helene’s fiancé, Duke Lecanosa, arrived at the banquet.
With black hair and pale blue eyes, he was a tall and handsome man.
“Your Grace, thank you for attending my younger sister’s engagement,” Helene said, blushing.
The Duke gave her a small nod. “It’s a place I was always meant to be. I also have ties to Brigadier General Vicente.”
The Duke glanced around the hall.
In fact, this mansion used to belong to his uncle, the former Supreme Commander.
There was a time when he dreamed of becoming Supreme Commander too, but he could never outmatch Maceira’s abilities.
Ever since, he’d been saddled with the label of the man who lost to a war orphan.
While he did feel inferior to Maceira, he also harbored a strange sense of superiority.
Surely, Maceira was marrying Cynthia Queensguard only to uncover and block his plans.
“It’s been a while, Your Grace,” Count Queensguard greeted warmly, extending his hand.
Their handshake held a strange undercurrent as their eyes met.
“Indeed it has.”
The Count Queensguard was a resourceful man.
He’d already told the Duke about the fake bride he sent to Maceira, and the plan to dispose of her before the one-year marriage law period expired.
It was a proposition the Duke found… quite appealing.
‘No matter how hard a war orphan tries, he’ll never be the real deal like me.’
With that fake in his arms, Maceira would forever chase shadows, doomed to lose in the end.
Just as the Duke was reveling in that delicious thought, Cynthia began descending the staircase.
Her hair, which had been shimmered gold under the chandelier light, glowed silver by the time she reached the bottom.
‘So that’s the fake, huh?’
There was an old legend in Bariesa’s royal family: that children blessed by the Winter God were sometimes born with hair as white as snow.
The Count had chosen his fake well… or so the Duke thought, until his eyes widened, fixed on Cynthia as she approached.
“Hello, Your Grace. It’s my first time meeting you.” She greeted him brightly.
She looked exactly like someone he had briefly seen long ago at the royal palace as a young boy, Princess Margareta.
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