Winter Field Chapter 15

“It’s truly beautiful, Rensley. Ah, if only you were not a man, how much…!”

“I’m sorry for being a man. In many ways…”

“Oh, don’t disparage yourself like that. We must all love ourselves. It’s not Rensley’s fault that you were born a man. Seeing you like this, I can’t help thinking that Rensley suits being the bride of our Grand Duke better than any princess, you know?”

What a dreadful thing to say. Rensley shuddered his shoulders.

Following the madam’s instructions, he closed his eyes, and the sensation of the brush stroking over his eyelids continued. He had thought the task of painting something over his eyelids was finished, but it kept being repeated at intervals throughout the makeup process.

“Just open your eyes a little. Just a little. Good.”

Whenever the brush passed back and forth over his open eyes, cold sweat broke out unbidden. Rensley had dodged blades rushing at him several times before, but at least then he could move freely. To wield the brush so threateningly as if it might stab his eye at any moment while telling him neither to close his eyes nor move—who knew makeup could be such a terrifying thing? Just as he was clenching his fists and tensing up, the brush tip lightly poked beneath his eyelid.

“Ack! It hurts!”

“Oh dear, a grown man yelling like this over so little. Bear with it just a bit. You have to apply it meticulously for it to be pretty.”

The head lady-in-waiting paid not a shred of attention to Rensley’s suffering. His own tone turned curt without him meaning it to.

“I’ll be wearing a veil anyway so my face won’t even be properly visible—let’s just do it roughly.”

“There is no ‘roughly’ for the Grand Duchess’s wedding ceremony.”

“Madam, if you truly consider me the Grand Duchess, shouldn’t you listen to what I say?”

“Oh my. But Rensley, you asked me to treat you comfortably first, didn’t you?”

He had nothing to say. Rensley closed his mouth and simply waited for the preparations to end quickly. Even after that, Madam Samrit repeated the cycle of stepping back a few paces to admire and applying more makeup countless times.

The makeup session, which had begun after he finished bathing, had a simple breakfast of food that was still tasteless, and washed his face and brushed his teeth once more, stretched on and on. At this rate, the wedding ceremony would begin without him even having a moment to catch his breath.

At last, Madam Samrit announced the end with the proud expression of a painter completing a masterpiece, and with her help, Rensley put on the wedding attire. After fastening every last knot of the dress, the madam carefully combed Rensley’s hair and then took his hand, guiding him to one side of the wall.

“Look, Rensley. It really is beautiful, even by your own eyes, isn’t it?”

In the long glass mirror placed between two windows, Rensley, almost fully prepared for the wedding, was reflected. Rensley blinked and faced himself in the mirror.

The blonde hair gleaming with a glossy sheen from the meticulous combing, the eyes that appeared even more purple than usual today, perhaps due to the lighting, the dress with its beautiful harmony of deep blue and pristine pure white, the jewels adorning it here and there and adding radiance. Areas that were difficult to disguise as a woman’s body, like the shoulder line or the Adam’s apple, had all been wrapped and hidden away with fabric.

It was certainly a sight pleasing to the eye. If one were to think of him as a stranger, anyone would not hesitate to deem him a beauty worthy of turning back for at least a glance. But no matter how beautifully he was adorned, in his own eyes, knowing better than anyone that the contents were a man with a male member dangling between his legs, he looked only ridiculous.

The moment his thoughts reached the fact that he would look just the same in Grand Duke Gisel’s eyes, a renewed sense of shame heated his ears. Though he could give a hundred or more justifiable reasons, the greatest reason for holding this wedding ceremony could, in the end, be summed up in a single phrase: he wanted to live.

Compared to Yvette, who had struck the back of the royal family’s heads—the people who had tormented her all her life—and fled with such spirit, the word ‘beautiful’ could not even come out as a joke about his own appearance, trying to preserve his life by deceiving people while pretending to be a woman.

“Are all the preparations complete?”

Before the veil was donned, Larkov, the head of the mage corps, entered the bedroom. The elderly man rounded his eyes behind his glasses and chuckled, “Ho-ho.”

“I wouldn’t have recognized you. Done up like this, you will make a truly well-matched pair with His Highness the Grand Duke.”

“Isn’t he really so pretty? We really ought to leave a portrait as the most beautiful Grand Duchess in Oldenland’s history.”

Rensley had no energy even to refute the playful jokes Madam Samrit and Larkov were exchanging. Larkov approached the sighing Rensley’s side.

“Here, drink this potion. It will maintain your voice for a while even after the wedding ceremony is over. Even once the effect wears off, we still have more left, so don’t worry.”

In his hand was a potion bottle where green and blue slowly swirled together. Unable to hide his dubious expression, Rensley asked to confirm.

“It’s certain that I’ll return to my original voice, right?”

“Of course. This much belongs to very low-grade magic. Drink it all in one go.”

It was his first time in his life drinking something like a magically made potion. When he opened the lid, the wafting scent was bitter. Rensley squeezed his eyes shut. Furrowing his brow and tilting his head back, he drank it all at once as instructed. A puckery, bitter taste that was hard to describe—seeming at once bitter, sour, and astringent—filled his mouth, and soon the inside of his throat began to tingle and grow warm. When he was young, he had playfully swallowed the root of some unknown plant and suffered for days with a swollen and itchy throat; it felt exactly like that time.

“My throat tickles… Ah.”

“A success. No one who hears you would suspect you’re a man.”

Larkov nodded with satisfaction. With an eerie feeling different from when he had seen his made-up, dressed reflection, Rensley swept his hand over his own throat. His protruding Adam’s apple had not disappeared and was still firmly in place.

“There won’t be many occasions where you need to speak at the wedding ceremony. The priest will have you make vows and ask several questions; all you need to do there is answer ‘yes.’ And once the ceremony is entirely over, you will greet the guests and residents.”

“Yes.”

Having answered reflexively, Rensley abruptly clamped his mouth shut. The voice, clear and crystalline as beads, was unfamiliar. Larkov let out a hearty laugh.

“Good. You’re doing well. The people of Oldenland don’t drag out weddings. It’s no different even for royalty or nobility. Once the ceremony ends, they’ll hold a banquet all night until tomorrow morning, but the married couple need not remain in attendance the entire time.”

They need not remain in attendance? Aren’t the married couple the hosts of the wedding banquet? Though he didn’t voice it, Larkov seemed to see his question written plainly, and answered.

“Because the couple must spend their wedding night.”

“Pardon?!”

“Ho-ho, why are you so surprised? Is there a newlywed couple that does not spend their wedding night? Moreover, in a royal wedding, the wedding night ritual is extremely important. The attendants will prepare the bedchamber in advance, so once you’ve finished your greetings, you may go up at any time.”

What on earth was this old man saying? Rensley stared at him with eyes welling in shock. Yet Madam Samrit was unruffled.

“There’s nothing to be surprised about, Rensley. No matter how fabricated a bride, of course you must let people see you going to spend your wedding night. It means to go to the bedchamber together, not that you must truly spend the night. There is no custom in Oldenland of people observing the wedding night, so you need not worry. I’ve heard that in some places, such customs do exist?”

“In the country I once worked in, they had such a custom. Noble brides and grooms had to prove their union before witnesses from each family.”

“Oh dear, I think I’d be far too mortified. Even so, how can one spend the night before others?”

These people… It rather seemed as though they were teasing him. Instead of voicing a reply to their words, Rensley furrowed his brow and simply rolled his eyes. Indeed, as if the intent had been to tease, Larkov burst into laughter once again.

“Come, let us finish up now. I shall go out first and attend upon His Highness the Grand Duke.”

Madam Samrit the head lady-in-waiting brought over the long-flowing wedding veil and the ceremonial cloak. Unlike the veil that had firmly covered his entire face except for his eyes, this one was semi-translucent and gossamer. The deep blue cloak was embroidered with the crest of the Oldenland royal family, just like the one the Grand Duke wore.

“Please bow your head just a little.”

Soon, a soft milky hue draped over his vision like mist. He also felt a rather weighty ornamental crown being placed atop his head.