There are a few facts in the Edvane Empire that you’d be considered a spy for not knowing.
One was that the Emperor’s older brother, Grand Duke Alec, was incredibly handsome; second, that the strawberry cake from the 127-year-old ‘Luna Bakery’ tasted divine; and lastly, the tight-knit friendship between the Count Hartwell family and the Duke Dalton family.
In other words…
“My goodness, Beatrice! You look absolutely stunning today!”
“Uh-huh, thank you for coming on such short notice.”
“Of course I had to come! It’s your wedding, of all people! Honestly, I’m telling you now, we all knew it would end up like this for you and Senior Clyde.”
It meant that everyone naturally accepted the marriage of Beatrice Hartwell and Clyde Dalton, who had been friends for a long time.
Even if the two, who had insisted they were absolutely not in that kind of relationship, were getting married within a single month as if roasting beans in a lightning flash.
Looking at her friend who claimed she’d seen it coming ever since they bickered informally back at the Academy, Beatrice gave a soulless smile.
“…Ah, really?”
“Yes! You were in different departments and different years, but he showed his face so often that everyone thought you were in the same department.”
That was only because the dim-witted Clyde Dalton kept leaving his assignments in her room.
“You two ended up as partners at the graduation party too, right? There were rampant rumors that you were dating in secret.”
That was… because she happened to forget the date and couldn’t find a partner.
She could still vividly remember Clyde’s hypocritical smile as he asked what kind of sincerity she had brought with her when she went to ask him to be her partner.
‘To my frustration, I had to hand over a limited-edition cake from Luna Bakery….’
She had waited months just to buy it, but that petty jerk ate the whole thing himself without giving her a single bite.
However, she couldn’t bring up such stories at a wedding. Beatrice suppressed the truth rising up to her throat and put strength back into the corners of her mouth.
“Ah, really.”
“When Senior Clyde escorted you out, my suspicion turned to certainty. There were even people crying in the back. I’m telling you, some girls even cried in the back. It’ll probably be the same today. No, wait, since you’re completely locked in now, it might be even worse?”
“…Ah, really?”
She truly couldn’t understand crying out of envy.
Nodding quickly, her friend shrugged and continued as if it were obvious.
“Even if he’s only the second son of a Duke, Senior Clyde is handsome. He’s capable, and he’s diligent.”
“…Uh-huh.”
Handsome….
‘No one knows.’
That the Duchess wasn’t the only one who contributed greatly to the appearance of Clyde Dalton, which everyone praised.
‘He steals my share of whitening paste and scented oils every time I get a treatment, so of course his skin is glowing.’
Is that all? Diligent? Diligent?
Beatrice wished everyone in the Empire could see him rolling around on the carpet, sticking his lips out and whining about not wanting to work.
Then all those words would vanish instantly!
‘Ah, I don’t want to write this report….’
‘What do you want me to do? No, why did you even come to my room to do this?’
‘Bea, can’t you just write it for me instead? Please? Just write it.’
‘Get out.’
‘Get out? How shocking, Bea. Is this how I raised you, to be such a cold person?’
‘Shut up, you’re only a year older. Get out.’
She was barely maintaining her smile while recalling the sight she had witnessed just a few days ago. A light knock was heard from the direction of the door. It was her eldest brother, Ian.
“Bea, it’s time to enter.”
“Ah, already?”
“Yes, already.”
Why is it so fast.
Ian looked at his sister for a moment as she gathered the skirts of her dress, then turned his head to greet his sister’s friend.
“Thank you for attending despite your busy schedule, Lady Susanna.”
“Oh, of course I had to come! Since it’s time, hurry and go, Bea! Good luck!”
Leaving behind her friend who was waving with a flushed face, Beatrice took her brother’s hand.
In front of the doors to the wedding hall.
Seeing his sister’s expression, which was smiling but strangely grumpy, Ian laughed lightly and tapped her shoulder.
“What’s with that face?”
“What about my face?”
“Because you threw a tantrum in front of the family saying you would marry Clyde, so I thought you’d be grinning from ear to ear, but you’re not.”
“Ah, that was…!”
Beatrice habitually tried to counter her eldest brother but shut her mouth tight. It wasn’t because she had nothing to say, but because the doors opened for the bride’s entrance.
Laughing softly at the sight of his sister, who was clearly showing signs of nerves, he reached out his hand again and whispered softly.
“Let’s go.”
“…Mhm.”
It was a wedding held in haste, but the hall, filled with fresh flowers, showed the effort put into decorating it.
Beatrice bypassed the people looking at her with bated breath—looking at them with blurred vision—and looked at a man standing on the elegant white cloth.
Deep blue eyes that seemed to hold the sea, a straight and sharp bridge of the nose, a masculine and solid jawline, and lips curved into a slight arc.
The man with hair as dark gold as if honey had been poured over it stood in a perfect posture, like a prince out of a fairy tale.
It was Clyde Dalton, the man who would soon be her husband.
‘Even I have to admit, his outer shell is quite splendid.’
That must be why everyone is so easily fooled.
Thinking that humans truly were pathetic creatures dependent on their sense of sight, Beatrice approached him.
Holding each other’s hands and smiling sweetly, the two whispered in hushed voices.
“Just try kissing me during the wedding vows. I’ll actually kill you.”
“Just make sure your veil is at the right angle.”
A light snort and hands gripped with strength as if refusing to lose.
From up close, they didn’t look like a happy couple-to-be at all.
Yet, there was a reason why the two were holding this wedding.
Standing before the officiant with Clyde, Beatrice recalled the events of a month ago.
The day she had proposed to him…. No, right? The day she was proposed to… well, anyway, that day.
* * *
The glass greenhouse of the Dalton Duke family.
In a place originally permitted only to members of the Ducal family, Beatrice was sipping the head maid’s special iced tea while carefully reading the note she had naturally written down.
[What to say if Clyde Dalton asks why he should marry you:
- It’s about time people start nagging you to get married, isn’t it? How about using each other as shields!
- Because I’m cute.
- …Uh, because I’m… cute?
- (Use only as a last resort! ☆☆☆☆☆) Kneel and beg. ‘It’s the request of a lifetime. Just do it as if you’re saving a person’s life.’]
Beatrice pressed her hand to her forehead as she stuffed the note—which was essentially ‘no plan’—into her pocket.
“…Ha, what’s the point of regressing? I can’t even think of one decent thing like this.”
Suddenly, the nagging her supervising professor used to pour out repeatedly came to mind.
‘Remember! The ability to craft appropriate lies and pretense is a virtue of the nobility!’
Thinking of the professor’s shrill voice, Beatrice sighed softly.
‘…I should have listened diligently.’
To think she’d regret letting it drift through her ears just because she had no interest in social circles!
It was shameless, but a brazen thought crept up that if she was going to be regressed like this, it would have been better to be sent back one year… no, three years earlier.
‘If that were the case, I would have been a model student this time and graduated at the top of the Department of Liberal Arts!’
It was a futile resolution that Clyde would have held his stomach laughing at if he heard it.
The moment Beatrice was spreading the wings of her meaningless imagination, the sound of the door opening was followed by the sudden appearance of golden hair.
It was her proposal target, Clyde Dalton.
“Haaa….”
At the sound of the sigh that leaked out without her knowing, the eyebrow of Clyde, who was pulling out a chair, rose slightly.
Sitting down and tilting his head slightly, he naturally brought Beatrice’s iced tea to his mouth and asked.
“What’s with that sigh?”
“…It’s because I’m looking at your slick face, why.”
“Ah, it was a sigh of admiration because I’m too handsome.”
“Are you sick? Did the Crown Prince hit you on the head because you’re so terrible at your job?”
“That’s lèse-majesté.”
Beatrice habitually pouted as she watched him sip the iced tea again, calling it the fee for keeping his mouth shut.
The person who needed to drink iced tea right now wasn’t him, who was saying things like ‘Oh, the peach flavor is just right,’ but her, whose throat was beyond burning and practically shriveled up.
‘Ah, how do I even start, really?’
Clyde, the days we’ve spent together are already….
‘No, that’s too cheesy.’
I’ll be blunt, Clyde, you, my husba—….
‘Ugh! Argh!’
Just the thought of it made her fingers curl up so much she couldn’t stand it.
Fingering the crumpled proposal letter once more with her fingertips, she took a deep breath and steadied herself again.
‘Pull yourself together and do it. You can do it. No, you have to.’
Only then can she avoid facing that tragedy again, the one she doesn’t even want to see in her dreams.
It was the moment Beatrice, thinking so, finally gathered the courage to part her lips.
Clyde, who had set the iced tea down on the table, suddenly spoke while meeting her eyes.
“Bea, marry me.”
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