Chapter 46

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter: 46

Chapter Title: Newlyweds

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After finishing dinner, Irena returned to the guest room where she was staying.

“Hoo.”

Leaning against the door as she closed it, Irena let out a long sigh and fanned her flushed cheeks with her hand.

“What the hell did I just see?”

During the meal, Irena had briefly stepped away to wash her hands.

She had no desire to continue dining with that arrogant man who clearly had no interest in giving her any attention.

Besides, seeing Clodel putting up with the cold, intimidating husband who showed no need to tolerate any rudeness—while constantly glancing at her sister's reactions—had completely killed her appetite.

Unlike large banquets or balls with crowds of people, leaving the table during a smaller dinner or tea party was an unspoken way of expressing displeasure.

More than anything, she couldn't tolerate the way he dared to belittle Valmond with remarks that dismissed it entirely, even though they were now in-laws through marriage.

Unlike Clodel, who had grown up like a forsaken child of Valmond due to her parents' misfortune, Irena's pride in the Valmond territory and House Vermonte was immense.

Even though her husband-to-be would sit in the lord's seat, she was practically the true heir to that land.

Her father, the excellent Duke Vermonte, always tried to show only the pretty and good things in front of his daughter, but even he sometimes couldn't hold back and vented his resentment toward House Temneth in her presence.

‘My little pup. When you become the lady of the manor, Father's wish is to ensure House Temneth can't even breathe on this land. How long must we endure those filthy, ignorant fools strutting around Oberon as nobles?’

As she washed her hands, Irena thought with a hardened expression.

‘If only we could solve the food issue, we could go to war with House Temneth right now.’

Weapons? Iron ore was plentiful just by digging the land; they could ramp up production and start making them from now on.

Soldiers? They could hire renowned mercenary bands from the Sol Continent, even if it meant emptying the lord's castle treasury.

But things had turned out this way, making Clodel practically a hostage in House Temneth.

With complicated feelings, she returned to the dining hall, only to see the servants and maids who had been attending inside rushing out in a group.

‘Why...?’

As she puzzled over it and peered through the open door,

her eyes caught sight of a man and woman tangled together in a kiss at the head table where she had been sitting with them moments ago.

Clodel's slender body was hidden behind the massive man, with only the hem of her dress visible.

But the man, with his head bowed, was devouring her lips with the ferocious intensity of a starving wolf tearing into meat.

Her immediate thought was that she had to rescue Clodel from that scoundrel's clutches.

But the next moment,

a pale, delicate hand appeared over the man's shoulder, sliding up his firm shoulder and neck, fingers threading through his jet-black hair.

Thud.

Along with the sound of her startled heart, the dining hall door closed before her eyes.

To her, frozen in place like a statue, the butler politely and courteously said,

‘The lord and lady of the manor get along very well.’

As Irena stood there dumbfounded with her mouth slightly agape, unable to respond, the butler kindly asked,

‘If dinner was insufficient, shall I have something sent to your room?’

‘Ah, no. I'm fine.’

‘You may spend time in the castle library, or if you wish, arrangements have been made for you to meet the head gardener at any time. There's also a garden spot with flowers that bloom only at night, so a nighttime stroll would be lovely if you're interested.’

The butler recited a string of activities that would pique Irena's interest, as if he had anticipated this exact situation.

The lord and lady, whom he should be hosting, vanishing and leaving their guest behind.

‘I'll go to my room. Dinner was plenty, so leave me alone.’

After returning to her room under the butler's guidance, the image of Kaiyan and Clodel kissing lingered in her mind even more vividly, like an afterimage.

“Hoo. It's not like it's my first time seeing a kiss.”

But even as she muttered that to herself, Irena knew it wasn't true.

It was her first time seeing a kiss that passionate, and from others at that.

“I thought that kind of thing only happened in books.”

Hanna sometimes borrowed romance novels that the castle maids passed around.

Meant for Clodel, Irena had read them too while visiting, and they all featured handsome, mannerly, well-built, and incredibly virile lords as protagonists.

But as far as Irena knew, such lords were as rare as unicorns.

It was hard to become a lord at such a young age, after all.

Most were nobles with established families, like Valmond's own Duke Vermonte, possessing maturity, knowledge, and prestige.

And yet!

“Aren't they supposed to get along poorly?”

Irena was flustered.

The butler's words, as if reading her mind—‘those two get along well’—bothered her even more.

That night, Irena tossed and turned late into the night, unable to sleep.

The next day, thanks to the lord and lady of the castle—who hadn't shown so much as their faces since her arrival as a guest—Irena had to spend the day alone.

It was only common sense that, during such a long, leisurely visit, the lord or lady couldn't entertain their guest around the clock.

They had their own duties unrelated to the visitor, after all.

“Today, you'll enjoy viewing wildflowers by the lakeside while having lunch.”

“By myself?”

“Yes. The lord and lady are still resting.”

The noonday sun hung high, blazing brilliantly. She didn't want to know what those two were doing in their bedroom until this hour.

“Sigh. Then I'll do the picnic with Clodel next time.”

Irena spent the day strolling the gardens alone and reading books.

It wasn't until evening that she finally saw her sister's face again.

“Sister. I'm sorry. I wasn't feeling well, so I overslept. I wish I'd sent a servant to wake you.”

Irena had called the guest room maid five times to check if Clodel was awake, but each time the answer was that she was still resting.

“It's fine. I was tired from wandering around sightseeing, so I rested easy too.”

Clodel smiled in relief at her words.

Moments later, Kaiyan entered the dining hall.

The man, still looking cold and as if in a foul mood, sat down and glanced at Irena, raising an eyebrow.

“That dress...”

Irena had borrowed one of Clodel's dresses, made by Madam Marcel.

Madam Marcel's designs were uniquely beautiful; even waiting a year in the capital didn't guarantee one, no matter how much she begged Duke Vermonte.

Juberdunya? Luxiang? No matter how expensive, ready-made dresses could be bought with money.

But this white chiffon dress, dyed red at the hem and made as a one-of-a-kind piece, suited Irena's red hair perfectly and delighted her.

‘What? He recognizes his wife's clothes?’

Most male nobles didn't know what was in their wives' wardrobes, so Irena was a bit surprised.

“Kaiyan. I lent it to my sister.”

Clodel said, placing her hand on his arm.

“The weather here's so hot. Sister doesn't have any Rowen-style dresses.”

“Hm. I see.”

As his upward-angled eyebrow lowered, Irena felt she should say something.

“The dress is lovely, isn't it? Madam Marcel's work is hard to get even in the capital. I've never seen her make a Rowen-style one before.”

“Is that so?”

“Madam Marcel is so famous her catalogs circulate even up north.”

“That famous?”

“Of course.”

Surprisingly, Kaiyan's stern, rigid face softened slightly, a hint of smug pride appearing.

“Next week, a new seamstress is coming to the castle.”

“A new seamstress?”

“The current one doesn't seem skilled enough to make dresses that suit you.”

Why say this in front of a guest?

As Irena wondered,

“From now on, Madam Marcel will make your dresses.”

She doubted her ears. Despite vowing not to engage him, she couldn't help asking Kaiyan,

“Wait. Duke, you mean Madam Marcel is Rowen Castle's new seamstress?”

“Yes. My wife deserves only the best. The dress the lady is wearing is what Madam Marcel brought to prove her worth as my wife's seamstress.”

Irena's eyes widened.

“Lady Irena seems knowledgeable about trends and fashion. When Madam Marcel arrives next week, have Clodel fitted for new dresses too. Once finished, they'll be sent to Valmond.”

“......Yes.”

Madam Marcel was the woman who raked in the capital's gold.

Her notoriety made her take commissions sparingly, driving up prices. One could even resell a worn dress for what it cost new.

And he had hired such a woman exclusively for Clodel?

Thinking of the cost, it was an unimaginable sum—not mere maintenance for a noblewoman's dignity.

Suddenly, Kaiyan looked different.

Just yesterday, she saw him as arrogant, obnoxious, and rude.

Now, he seemed like a man willing to hang himself just for a compliment from Clodel, who cared little for dresses or jewels.

Only then did she understand why he had brought up dresses and fashion in front of her, who seemed somewhat knowledgeable.

“Clodel prefers over dresses...”

For a fleeting moment, she pitied the man and opened her mouth without thinking.

‘......books like Mar Miller's Theory of the Kingdom or Gredol Man's latest. Or the quarterly Hindenburg Continental Expedition.’

But realizing she couldn't hand such valuable intel to the enemy, she swallowed her words.

“Over dresses?”

“Ah, the jewels you gifted suit her so well too.”

Irena glossed over it.

And the spectacle continued throughout the meal.

That evening, Irena caught Kaiyan smiling exactly once: when Clodel accepted a sweetly glazed carrot he offered on his fork.

On the first day, seeing his plate with food finely chopped that he didn't even eat had irked her, thinking his table manners were atrocious.

Yet the strikingly handsome man was busy mincing food to fit Clodel's tiny mouth, looking as if watching her eat filled him more than any meal.

‘Is this what they call getting along?’

Irena was bewildered.

Her parents, Duke and Duchess Vermonte, got along well too, but she'd never seen anything like this.

Unable to endure it, the next evening, Irena said to the newlyweds,

“I'm heading back tomorrow.”

“Already? You just got here.”

Clodel's eyes widened at Irena's sudden announcement.

“Your favorite seamstress is coming next week. Stay longer.”

“No. I should spend the autumn festival in Valmond.”

“Ah......”

“A fine attitude.”

Kaiyan didn't even pretend to urge her to stay longer. She had expected it, but how crucial was such courtesy in noble relations?

Now, Irena felt she could read his thoughts just from his glance.

‘We're newlyweds—don't bother us and get lost.’