Chapter 1

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter: 1

Chapter Title: Body Before Words

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"Marriage to 'House Vermonte'? It's a disgrace to our 'House Temneth'!"

A voice thick with the stench of alcohol boomed through the banquet hall, where the wedding celebration was in full swing.

At the sound, people from all around slammed down their glasses with furious clinks—tang, tang—and rose from their seats, swarming toward the head table.

"Is this any way to act? We're House Temneth!"

"We've been made fools by a few words from that puppet of a king, Oberon."

"Lord! Say something, my lord!"

The man at the head table, Kaiyan, Lord of Rowen, gazed down at the rowdy drunks without uttering the words they craved. Instead, he simply tilted his glass.

His cold face betrayed no emotion, as flawless and unyielding as a carved stone statue.

Beneath his neatly groomed black hair, crimson eyes gleamed fiercely as he looked down upon the clamoring kin of House Temneth.

Despite his striking features, the intimidating presence from his towering height—a head taller than most men—and broad shoulders made it so that no ordinary person could even open their mouth before Kaiyan, the head of House Temneth.

Yet in this wretched banquet hall, strewn with empty wine barrels amid discarded heaps of land, sea, and air delicacies, several drunken hounds yipped and snarled at their master without restraint.

"The filthy, scheming blood of those bastards mixing into our house? I will never accept it!"

Tang.

As Kaiyan set down his glass, the chaotic hall fell instantly silent.

"Quiet."

At his single command, even the men deep in their cups clamped their mouths shut.

"Are you trying to teach me now that House Vermonte is the enemy of House Temneth?"

The chill radiating from Kaiyan seemed poised to freeze the humid air, already heavy from the drizzling rain outside.

"Ha! As if the Duke would ever truly treat a lowly Vermonte wretch as his wife!"

Someone twisted his words to their liking and raised their glass high, trying to shift the mood. Soon, those who had forgotten the moment resumed their raucous drinking, using House Vermonte as their side dish once more.

"Excuse me, my lord."

Just then, Baron Colon, the castle butler, approached with a troubled expression.

"The bride's carriage is stuck at the drawbridge due to the downpour and can't cross."

"The bride?"

The butler bowed his head, pretending not to notice the mocking way Kaiyan savored the word.

"What shall we do?"

Kaiyan rose from his seat and headed to the terrace.

Beneath the pouring rain, five carriages stood in a line, helplessly stranded in the middle of the drawbridge.

Only two of them, sparsely adorned, belonged to the north.

One carriage, slightly larger than the others, was tilted awkwardly, its wheel seemingly caught in the gap of the drawbridge.

Kaiyan sneered.

"A bride unwelcome in House Temneth. She should know her place and walk in on her own two feet."

A few retainers who had overheard him followed to the terrace for a look. Seeing the scene at the castle gates, they chattered excitedly.

"Even the lord's castle refuses to let a foot of House Vermonte through!"

"Hahaha!"

Ignoring the babble, Kaiyan brushed the raindrops from his shoulders and turned away.

It was a torrential downpour.

The carriage, which had raced nonstop from the north for a full fortnight, had exhausted both horses and passengers.

To make matters worse, a worn wheel from the long journey had caught in the slick center of the drawbridge, spinning uselessly before breaking.

"Have you all lost your minds? Do you think you'll get away with treating my lady like this?"

Compounding the issue, the waterlogged carriage roof had long since failed, letting thick streams drip inside.

Seated within was Clodel, a soaked bride.

She had changed into her wedding attire at an inn in a gateway city half a day's ride away—crowning her head with a floral wreath and donning a white veil before boarding the carriage.

But the rain had wilted the flowers into limp messes, and the thin white veil clung wetly to her red hair and the nape of her neck.

Rain trickled down her rounded forehead to her lowered eyes, which shone with amber-flecked golden irises.

Though her vivid features seemed etched into her very being, her porcelain skin and slender, frail frame made the delicate bride appear strangely precarious on what should have been her most radiant day.

Hanna, her maid whose stomach churned at the sight, had been raising her voice at the guards stationed at the gates for two hours straight, on the verge of a brawl.

When the butler, who had gone to report to the lord, reappeared, Hanna brightened.

"Hey! What did the Duke say?"

But his response dashed her hopes.

"Ahem. Well, you see... The lord says she should get out and walk the rest of the way."

"What?"

The butler averted his eyes as Hanna leaped in outrage.

"Did you relay it properly? Is this how House Temneth welcomes a new lady of the house?"

"I, I asked clearly."

"And he still said that?"

The butler felt sweat trickling down his back, even through his rain-soaked clothes.

'A bride unwelcome in House Temneth. She should know her place and walk in on her own two feet.'

He hadn't dared relay Kaiyan's exact words, softening them as best he could, but it still wasn't enough to quell the fiery maid's fury.

"Hanna. That's enough."

"My lady."

"This dress is cumbersome. Help me down?"

"No, my lady. That's absurd."

Before Hanna could protest further, Clodel stepped out into the pouring rain.

"Lead the way. Escort me."

At her words, the butler hurriedly cleared a path.

Squelch. Squelch.

The sodden silk dress clung to her legs and ankles. Her pearl-embellished ceremonial shoes, meant to protect her feet, were caked in mud and rainwater.

Some walked petal-strewn paths in fine slippers, or so they said.

Her husband-to-be, Kaiyan, had come to Valmond Castle, her family's seat in House Vermonte territory, a fortnight ago for the ceremony. Then, claiming urgent business, he had returned to Rowen alone.

Typically, the groom escorted the bride, but Clodel saw it as proof that Kaiyan refused to accept her as his wife.

She had spent the final three days of the fortnight-long journey in a leaking carriage. What was a little more rain soaking her now?

Yet with every step, the heavy, sodden hem tangled around her feet like a quagmire, pulling her deeper into fear as she approached the lord's castle, clutching it aside with her hands.

The cold reception continued even after she was shown inside.

"Prepare hot bathwater for the Duchess. She's been out in the cold too long—light the hearth as well."

But the castle servants and maids acted as if they hadn't heard Hanna at all.

"Isn't Valmond the Ice Fortress?"

"A wench from the frozen wastes complains of a little rain?"

As the underlings snickered with mocking words loud enough for all to hear, Hanna began to rage.

"You lot have no sense of rank?"

"Rank? What rock did you crawl out from under, spouting nonsense?"

"A rock?"

"Country bumpkin acting above her station. Do you even know where you are? Coming from a crumbling territory like that."

"Hey! You done talking?"

Just as Hanna lunged in a frenzy to grab a castle maid's hair—

"Hanna. Prepare a change of clothes."

Clodel's quiet voice floated from the hallway to the arguing group, her bedroom door left open.

"You lot got lucky. We'll settle this later."

Hanna crossed her arms, glaring at the maids who showed no intent to fill the bath, then stormed back inside.

In the meantime, Clodel had found a towel herself and wiped the moisture from her soaked dress.

But the bridal headpiece and veil were tricky; they remained thoroughly drenched.

"Sigh. What are we going to do about this?"

Seeing it, Hanna sighed in dismay.

"The Duke needs to see you as a proper bride."

"He'd only be offended by this mess. Better to take it off."

In the end, Hanna undid the headpiece, sighing heavily as she removed the white veil.

"No man hates a beauty. You looked truly stunning earlier."

"Enough, Hanna. I'm fine."

Clodel shook her head at her loyal maid's candid words.

Ultimately, since the castle staff ignored them, Hanna chased down the kitchen staff and hounded them until steaming hot water filled the tub.

After finally bathing, the warmth returned to her body, stolen away by the chill.

As she emerged, Clodel glanced at her reflection in the bathroom mirror.

Lifeless white skin, a body gaunt and stripped of any flesh.

Tangled red hair and yellow eyes.

Hanna's words were mere flattery born of pity.

Weren't a woman's charms supposed to include vitality and fullness?

Her complexion was so pale it bordered on ghostly, her lips a faint pink devoid of any red hue.

In a word, she looked like an invalid.

At the wedding, Kaiyan had barely glanced her way.

No amount of treasures from the family vaults adorning her could make the lanky Clodel appealing to his eyes.

That man stood at the pinnacle of the kingdom's power.

The Duke of House Temneth, who had brought unprecedented prosperity to his line—possessing all he desired—was checked by the king precisely because he was too capable.

And so, he had been forced into this marriage with her.

The events in Rowen Castle today felt like an ominous preview of her life here.

A suffocating despair weighed heavily on her chest.

Clodel found it too burdensome even to sigh properly.

Kaiyan had drunk quite a lot.

Today was their wedding night.

A meaningful evening symbolizing the union of two houses.

Yet the mere thought of the red-haired bride made bile rise in his throat.

If there was one person in the mighty House Temneth—who wielded even greater influence in his generation—who despised House Vermonte above all, it was none other than Kaiyan.

'If you encounter Vermonte, leave not a single one alive.'

That was the paramount creed in the heir's education of House Temneth, passed down through generations.

Spare the enemy if you must, but never Vermonte.

Kaiyan had fought at the vanguard in wars long ago, yet he had never beheaded a Vermonte.

For his first true encounter with one to be his father-in-law and wife was utterly absurd.

He couldn't fathom consummating the marriage in his right mind, so unlike himself, he had overindulged.

"You have to give us some clothes!"

A shrill woman's voice rang from the bedroom.

"You're not even human."

The sniffling maid fell silent the moment she saw him enter.

The rain-soaked bride wore only thin undergarments.

Given the state of the carriage in that storm, her luggage must have gotten drenched, prompting demands for spare clothes.

But there were no clothes in this castle to give to a Vermonte.

Kaiyan curled his lip in a smirk.

"No need to bother finding something she'll strip off anyway."

He barked at the maid, who gaped in shock at his words.

"Out."

The flustered maid scurried from the room and shut the door.

In the flickering candlelight, the woman who would become his bride came into view. She rose slowly from where she perched on the bed.

Small and slender.

Dissatisfied with the marriage, Kaiyan had held the ceremony and rushed straight back to his territory without so much as a word to her.

What should he say now?

To the wife whose body he would know before her voice.

Then she spoke first.

"Shall I undress?"