Chapter 9

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter: 9

Chapter Title: How to Survive as the Wife of the Monster Duke

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"No wedding ceremony?"

Ilrin assumed that meant she was being told to leave Biplten.

But after hearing the explanation, it turned out to be something else entirely.

"March in Biplten is quite cold. To prepare properly for the marriage, we'd have to wait until closer to April. Even the people of the Winter Lands avoid going outside in that kind of weather."

Ilrin's gaze flicked briefly to the man's attire.

A knight adorned with red insignia.

He was the first person from Crimson Delroz to speak with her since Den.

The man, who had introduced himself as Ijis, bowed deeply.

"His Grace said that if it's inconvenient for you, you should let us know directly."

"Did His Grace say that himself?"

Ijis paused for the briefest moment, as if wondering if she'd misunderstood.

"Yes. He commanded it personally."

Ilrin glanced out the window.

The blizzard swirling beyond the glass was still far too fierce and frigid for her.

Biplten's seasons were divided not into spring, summer, fall, and winter, but into January, February, March, and April—and at first glance, they all seemed much the same. Yet even among them, there were times of bone-chilling cold and periods that were at least tolerable for activity.

The end of March and into April marked the harshest stretch.

And right now, it was Biplten's March.

This was the head of the house's wedding.

No matter how different Biplten was from the Empire—no, precisely because it was different—they might have their own unique traditions.

Skipping all those procedures was purely because she was a sun dweller.

A sun dweller couldn't be expected to endure Biplten's cold.

"I understand."

Ijis looked genuinely surprised.

Ilrin dipped her head slightly.

"Thank you for your consideration."

Was it truly His Grace who had commanded this, or had it come from somewhere within Crimson Delroz? Either way, she could tell they were thinking of her.

Of course, forgoing a grand ceremony didn't mean there would be no marriage at all.

Starting the day before the wedding, Ilrin had to go through every single Biplten skin care ritual imaginable.

They couldn't erase every minor scratch from the blizzards and harsh winds, but it was more than enough to soothe the skin roughened by stress.

If anything, her complexion looked better than it had back at Viscount Arlen's estate.

For warmth, she had no choice but to cover her head with the fabric from Azure Noz.

Ilrin was startled to learn it was the bride's sacred artifact.

"I knew it was something precious, but..."

She hadn't realized it even had a name like "sacred relic."

The dress was settled on as a white gown that complemented Azure Noz's relic.

Following tradition, a bracelet incorporating the colors of all four houses adorned her wrist.

It was a custom meant to ensure the bride wouldn't spark discord.

"It doesn't feel real."

Ilrin sat at the table.

There were many unusual aspects to this marriage, but the strangest was that she couldn't sit face-to-face with the man who was to become her husband.

As a result, there was no chair opposite the table where the marriage vows lay.

[Aden de Biplten]

[Ilrin de Arlen]

Once the Duke of Biplten signed, the "Arlen" in her name would vanish, replaced by "Biplten."

This was truly happening. They were getting married.

There was no pounding excitement in her chest, no ornate venue, no boisterous guests.

She wasn't entirely without fantasies about marriage.

Every little girl dreamed of it at least once.

A long, trailing wedding gown gliding down the virgin road, candles flickering fresh and green amid blue flowers lining both sides.

Beside her stood a beloved figure in a sharp black suit, tossing a bouquet with a joyful smile—a moment that would become a happy story for whoever caught it.

It would be a lie to say she wasn't disappointed.

There wouldn't be a second chance.

Viscount Arlen's house wasn't prestigious enough to marry off a jilted bride again, and her father had no intention of providing a dowry for Ilrin.

This was it. Her one and only.

In a small voice, Ilrin read the vows aloud.

"Bride Ilrin de Arlen vows to spend her lifetime with the Lord of the Winter Lands, Aden de Biplten."

The form was simple.

To spend a lifetime together.

Incredibly, the precognitive dream she'd foreseen was now upon her.

"There's no need for it to be a lifetime."

For a moment, Ilrin thought the world had gone dark before her eyes.

Something touched them, and she reflexively squeezed them shut, then opened them to find them covered by something warm.

A hot hand had slipped beneath the Azure Noz fabric.

The voice that followed was low and earnest.

It was hard to believe it belonged to the savage beast, the mad duke of winter, the man shadowed by every foul rumor—yet it was surprisingly gentle.

Perhaps because of that, the chilling sensation of a stranger at her back didn't arise.

It felt as if they'd met several times before.

Of course, her heart couldn't help but flutter.

"Your Grace?"

Ilrin asked without turning.

His hand was right there, so she could sense his every movement clearly.

She thought he hesitated.

"...Yes."

After a brief pause, he introduced himself.

"I am Aden de Biplten."

Exchanging introductions without facing each other felt utterly bizarre.

In a voice trembling faintly, Ilrin responded.

"I'm Ilrin de Arlen."

His large hand covering her eyes let in plenty of light through the gaps.

She could see the vows peeking through his fingers.

The sensation of his other hand touching her right one, which held the pen, was vivid.

[Aden de Biplten]

Aden gently guided Ilrin's right hand, pen in grip.

His strong swordsman's hand overlaid her small, slender one.

His veined knuckles looked rugged, but his touch was light and tender.

As cautious as if holding a feather that might scatter at any moment.

"If it ever becomes too much, you're free to leave this place."

The words came from above her head.

Through the fabric at the back of her head, the duke's chest brushed against her.

He was close.

"This isn't a place for sun dwellers anyway."

The duke had finished signing.

All that remained was for Ilrin to take the pen and do the same, completing the vows.

They would become husband and wife.

Before lifting the pen, Ilrin asked,

"Then why bring in a bride at all?"

Especially one from the sun lands.

He paused briefly before answering.

"I never expected someone like you."

The warmth over her eyes withdrew.

Was he leaving the room? But the duke approached her again.

His breath was near her ear. Close.

Even with her eyes covered, she could make out his masculine jawline and moving lips.

She could see the top few buttons of his shirt undone.

A luxury probably only the head of Biplten could afford in these winter lands.

Ilrin tried not to let her gaze linger on him.

It would be trouble if their eyes met like this.

"See you soon."

The preparations for the first night were straightforward.

The maids from the four houses handed her a gown lighter in fabric than the one she'd worn earlier.

They swept her long hair up high.

In Biplten, exposing the full nape was a symbol reserved for the highest-ranking women, those dwelling in the warmest depths of the manor.

The maids led the prepared Ilrin to a room she recognized.

It was the one from her dream.

Layers of thin white curtains shrouded the bed.

Bright light would reveal silhouettes.

As the maids parted the curtains, the bed revealed itself, covered in bedding that looked plush and inviting at a glance.

It wasn't as opulent as in her dream, but now that she was here, it made sense.

This place resembled Biplten itself.

Like a soft expanse of Biplten snow.

"His Grace may be late."

The maid from Azure Noz spoke in a flat tone.

She felt worlds apart from Riji, who had guided Ilrin before.

He didn't seem like the type to be late.

'See you soon.'

He'd whispered it like he was coming right away.

Ilrin thought of the man she'd met so briefly moments ago—the one who would soon be her husband.

He wasn't as frightening as she'd feared.

Perhaps because they hadn't locked eyes. He seemed utterly unlike the rumors.

Of course, the man in her dream had been quite gentle, so she'd had some inkling.

But at this point, she had to wonder why those rumors had spread at all.

Or was he just being kind to me?

Ilrin quickly dismissed the thought, which might have sounded romantic to some.

She wasn't some young girl lost in lovesick delusions.

"Here."

The maid pouring the drink was from Verdant Mille.

The nameless maid filled a tiny cup and placed it on the bedside drawer.

"It's popular among brides on their first night."

Not something she had to drink.

In other words, a consideration for a nervous bride.

Ilrin nodded slightly.

"Thank you."

The maids bowed deeply and withdrew.

Even with their quiet presence, the room full of five suddenly holding only one felt instantly silent.

Now, she was the only one moving in this space.

Ilrin surveyed the bedroom anew.

His Grace would enter through that door.

"Aden de Biplten..."

She'd signed the vows, so he was her husband's name now.

But it still felt foreign.

Above all, they only knew each other's names and voices.

Or perhaps they knew more—like the feel of hands.

Ilrin stroked the back of her own hand.

She recalled the warm hand that had enveloped hers during the signing.

She hadn't expected to share a first night with a man whose face she didn't know.

And she probably never would.

Meeting his eyes would freeze her solid.

"Hoo..."

In the end, Ilrin took the cup from the drawer.

It was small, barely two finger widths.

She swirled the translucent pale green liquid, then downed it in one go.

"Ah."

Heat surged up.

The burning liquid flowed downward, but the warmth rose upward.

She let out a short breath.

A sweet fragrance lingered on her lips.

Could she really manage here?

Truth be told, her time with His Grace would likely be only at night.

Her life here would be defined more by her role as mistress of the duke's house than by her relationship with her husband.

Her standing among the four houses would be key.

Could she pull it off?

The reason for seeking a bride was undoubtedly an heir.

The duke couldn't marry into Crimson Delroz, and he clearly didn't want to grant power—especially through children—to the other three houses, so he'd chosen a sun dweller.

So, how much authority would she have?

Was the duchess Biplten wanted truly nothing more than a vessel for an heir?

Clink.

The cup hitting the drawer echoed loudly in the room.

They've probably finished investigating me by now.

No telling how deep they'd dug, but they'd long since realized Viscount Arlen's house was insignificant, offering nothing of value.

Did they learn her position within the family too?

Information spreads through personal encounters.

But Viscount Arlen's estate had long been staffed solely by retainers loyal across generations, with minimal outside contact.

Visitors weren't entirely absent. Ilrin had to greet them then, as the viscount—staking his house's image on it—treated his sole precious daughter like forbidden fruit before guests.

That wasn't the only reason secrets stayed contained.

After Syd's death, the estate's atmosphere had grown deeply unsettled.

Servants vanished one by one—some found hanged, others without a trace.

All of them knew of Ilrin's or the viscountess's dreams.

Only those who'd served the viscounts for generations survived knowing the secret.

'It's cursed!'

Ilrin clearly remembered a maid—three generations in service—saying it.

She must have been around eight.

She hadn't understood then, but she did now.

Viscount Arlen blamed the servants' deaths on Ilrin's dreams.

He claimed grim fates arose from recklessly peering into the future.

"..."

Ilrin smiled bitterly.

If that were true—if she were guilty—why had only the servants who knew of Syd's death met such ends, not her?

Ilrin gazed up at the ceiling.

Curtains scattered like a bride's veil layered over the bed.

She had no intention of hiding her family background.

Her precognitive dreams? They wouldn't believe it anyway, so no need to mention them.

She'd come here alone, with nothing to her name.

To marry the Empire's most reviled groom, shunned by all.

Was he truly the worst?

She still didn't really know what kind of man he was.

It felt like walking a tightrope blindfolded.

The three houses vying to get close to the bride, Crimson Delroz alone seeming indifferent—and her, marrying its leader.

There was still so much she didn't understand about Biplten.

Click.

In that instant, every light in the room went out.