Chapter 12

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter: 12

Chapter Title: Our First Night

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"…I'm still deliberating. For now, neither the missing bride nor the one who dragged her off has shown up…."

Empress Isabel said it like a sigh.

"But now, everyone out there thinks Grand Duke Ludwig's marriage has already fallen apart."

"……."

The bride had been kidnapped without even stepping into the wedding hall, and three days had passed.

Even if she returned now, no one could guarantee her honor.

The Emperor thought Ludwig's marriage was as good as over.

Moreover, he had witnessed it himself.

'Ludwig seemed to handle the bride so roughly.'

He was indeed considering his nephew as an alternative to his son, who might snap at any moment.

But had he known about the prior incident beforehand, he might not have pushed the marriage through.

His thoughts couldn't delve any deeper, though.

There was an interrupter right beside him.

The Empress spoke up.

"I'm truly worried, Your Majesty. About Arpad."

"……."

"Could he have been completely devoured by his mania? Otherwise, such an outrageous act makes no sense."

That was the Emperor's greatest fear.

The Empress gracefully lifted her teacup.

Her long, flowing sleeve rolled back, baring her arm.

A large, vivid scar marred it.

The Emperor knew exactly how it had gotten there.

'The mark from 'that time'. When Arpad first showed signs of mania….'

His heart grew heavy.

A mere ten-year-old child's rampage had left such devastation.

Because of that day, the Empress could no longer lift her right arm properly.

She had been the Crown Prince's wet nurse, a lady-in-waiting to the late Empress, so she and Arpad had always been close.

But after the accident, they drifted apart—and the Emperor couldn't blame her for it.

It symbolized the debt he owed her.

He understood her intent in deliberately raising that uncomfortable arm to reveal the scar.

A reminder of Arpad's mania.

'It's only natural the Empress—who endured it firsthand—can't trust Arpad….'

Just like the Emperor himself.

The Empress pressed on, striking his deepest vulnerability.

"The Crown Prince must have inherited the late Empress's madness completely…."

"Watch your tongue!"

Bang!

The Emperor slammed the armrest in fury.

The Empress bowed her head, feigning deep remorse.

But her objective was already achieved.

The Emperor had recalled that one woman—the only one he'd ever loved, mother to his son.

His first wife, who had scarred his face terribly before dying in the throes of mania.

He squeezed his eyes shut in agony.

'Arpad… he takes after her far too much.'

That was why he couldn't trust his sole son.

When Empress Isabel emerged from the Emperor's reception room,

two figures awaited her.

Grand Duke Ludwig, who had bellowed for all to hear.

And Evangeline Ruth, clinging to his side like a devoted wife.

Evangeline approached the Empress, her face alight with eagerness.

"Mother. What did His Majesty say?"

Evangeline was the daughter the Empress had borne before marrying the Emperor.

Thus, she had grown up in the palace, afforded treatment akin to royalty.

Yet she could never truly become one.

The Empress shook her head.

"Nothing in particular. With neither Arpad nor the bride appearing, he can't settle on a punishment yet."

Ludwig groaned in anguish.

"How can he hesitate? The crime is blatant, parties present or not! As expected, His Majesty favors his own blood…!"

"Hold your tongue."

The Empress silenced him coldly.

"Only His Majesty can rein in Arpad. Mind your words—lest you provoke the Emperor's ire."

"…Yes, Your Majesty the Empress."

He gnashed his teeth in defeat.

Evangeline's mutter drifted from beside him.

"…Why did Brother Arpad have to pick her of all people…."

Empress Isabel shot her fretful daughter a reproving look.

But with Ludwig present, she couldn't speak freely and shifted focus.

"Public perception and rumors matter more. Even His Majesty will feel their weight."

Over the past three days, the Empress had poured every effort into fanning negative sentiment toward Arpad.

'This was merely a manic mishap.'

'Thus, Grand Duke Ludwig and Duchess Delphin's marriage must proceed as planned.'

Ludwig's eyes gleamed with feral intensity.

'I won't hand it over easily, Arpad!'

He was willfully blind to the fact that it had already been stolen.

Only after botching through the wedding ceremony could I finally shed my crumpled-tissue state.

The mirror reflected a truly wretched sight.

'Kissing me like this. Crown Prince has some nerve.'

The officiating priest did too.

'Holding a wedding in this state is a first, though.'

All my prior weddings had appeared grand, lavish, and solemn on the surface.

A bare-bones affair: just groom, bride, and priest.

Yet it felt more at ease, more satisfying than any before.

'Perfect. First step to breaking free from that bastard!'

Plus, the bliss of a proper wash and fresh clothes after three endless days was immense.

Soaking in hot water, I melted like butter.

With the paperwork marriage squared away, worries bubbled up like foam.

'Ah, hope Sir Beltein's alright.'

Abduction took priority, so I couldn't check on him.

A snatched bride fretting over her knight? Absurd.

'And he was wounded too….'

He must be out of his mind with worry for me.

Thinking I'd truly been kidnapped by Arpad.

Given his rigid sense of honor, he might even try to atone with his own blade.

'No way, surely not?'

I needed to address this pronto.

Annie weighed on me too.

'She must think I got helplessly abducted.'

She'd be frantic.

But ignorance protected them, so I couldn't tip them off ahead.

No time anyway.

'Sir Beltein escorted me to the catacombs, and Annie glimpsed my scheming—at least, I hope they suspect something.'

That was my limit for now.

Seal stamped; time to rush back to the capital and tidy up.

As my mind raced with concerns for them and what lay ahead,

deft maids scrubbed me spotless, fluffed me dry, dressed me, and ushered me to the bedroom.

"Wishing you a blissful night."

"Sweet dreams."

Oddly loaded words.

I came to, deposited alone in a red-silk-draped bedroom.

Dead center: one obscenely massive bed.

Room-sized; I could tumble ten times without falling off.

Red canopy boxed it in, veiling the interior—but its scale was obvious.

Faintly burning incense wafting perfume, roses thrusting from a side-table vase….

'Altogether, an intensely erotic vibe.'

My cheeks burned despite myself.

In a standard arranged marriage, I'd have steeled myself to enter.

'But this? Hardly.'

Our first encounter (this life) was a dank underground crypt.

Threats and blades traded before sweet nothings.

Zero romance.

Survival pact, at best.

'Separate palace maids wouldn't know… can't be helped.'

Three days of brutal trek had maxed my exhaustion anyway.

Embarrassment be damned—I flung the curtains wide.

"Fluffy sheets! Pillows!"

That was all… until I glimpsed inside.

I froze solid.

"What in the world…?"

Pristine white sheets blanketed in—over-the-top romantic—rose petals.

And like an answer to my cry, an ill sound from behind.

Creak—

Bedroom door swinging open.

Hot steam billowed in.

Absurdity peaked as chilling words followed.

"My bride truly is eager. Couldn't wait even those few moments for me…."

"What did you just say?!"

I spun, yelling—then whipped back around.

There, at the threshold: Crown Prince Arpad, inexplicably drenched, clad in a single loose red robe.

He strode toward me. Toward the bed.

Model-walking in just a robe? Toward me?

"Wh-why are you even here?"

To my idiotic query, Arpad's eyes crinkled softly.

"Today is our wedding night, my bride."