Chapter 59

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Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 59
Chapter Title: The Face in the Photograph
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Aileen stared blankly at the newspaper. She squeezed her eyes shut and opened them again, but the headline did not magically change. The full-page photograph on the front was their wedding picture from yesterday.

‘Is that me?’

It was utterly unbelievable. Aileen's eyes widened as she continued to stare at the paper. Cesare, who had been sipping strong tea while perusing the headlines, glanced at Aileen, then picked up a copy of *La Verita* from the table and handed it to her.

Aileen hesitated to take the newspaper he offered, merely staring at it. Cesare didn't rush her, waiting patiently.

Seeing his waiting hand, she felt she shouldn't waste the busy man's time. Aileen shook off the fear that enveloped her and took the newspaper.

She must have gripped it too tightly without realizing, as the paper crinkled in her hand. With trembling hands, Aileen held the newspaper and examined the photograph.

Cesare was captured in the photo just as he had looked at the wedding. To be honest, it wasn't exactly the same.

Because he looked far worse than in person.

The Cesare in the photograph was still a handsome man, but it failed to capture his uniquely dangerous yet alluring aura. It was likely because the photograph was in black and white, so the color of Cesare's crimson eyes wasn't visible.

‘It would have been nice if the red was visible.’

She felt a pang of regret that the citizens of the empire couldn't see Cesare's beautiful eyes. Aileen slowly shifted her gaze.

She stared at the woman with an unfamiliar face standing next to Cesare. The woman, wearing a pristine white wedding dress with delicate embroidery, had wavy hair cascading down and was smiling faintly.

She carefully studied the bride's shyly smiling face. Large eyes, a small nose, full lips… Her delicate features were as lovely as a fairy's. She was, by anyone's standards, an undeniably perfect beauty.

Though her hair and eye color were unknown, they were surely just as beautiful. After scrutinizing the woman for a long time, Aileen came to a clear conclusion.

‘It's someone else.’

There must have been some mistake during the developing process, superimposing someone else's face, taken earlier, over her own.

At first, she was surprised and upset, but on second thought, it seemed like a blessing in disguise. It was far better for a beautiful stranger to be known as the Grand Duchess of Erzet than her grotesque self. The woman in the photo was a perfect match for Cesare.

It was just sad that she couldn't preserve this momentous memory with him. *Weren't there any proper ones out of all the pictures we took?* she wondered, setting the newspaper down listlessly.

Cesare, who had been standing by the table reading the paper while drinking his tea, immediately came to her side.

“Why?”

She had tried to hide her dejected expression, but it seemed he had seen right through her.

“It's... the wedding photo.”

Aileen held the newspaper out to him. Then, trying not to look too crestfallen, she said.

“I think the photo was printed incorrectly.”

Cesare glanced down at the newspaper and raised an eyebrow. He gazed at Aileen for a moment, then let out a short "Hmm," before speaking.

“It is inferior to the real thing. Your eyes are especially beautiful.”

Remarking that the photo was lacking because the colors weren't visible, Cesare handed the newspaper back to Aileen. Taking the paper in a daze, Aileen looked back and forth between it and Cesare, bewildered.

“Uh, the photo is strange…”

“Are you upset because it came out so ugly?”

“What? Ugly! She's as beautiful as a fairy. No, that's not it.”

Aileen bit her lip, hiding her disappointment. *Why doesn't Lord Cesare understand? The woman in this picture isn't me… Or does he simply not care?*

She was already upset about not having a proper wedding photo, and Cesare's strange remarks only made her feel worse. Aileen smoothed out the crumpled newspaper and showed it to him again.

“If you look… it's not my face. It seems like the face of the person before was printed over mine.”

Worried she might sound like she was whining, she carefully stated only the objective facts. Cesare stared at Aileen in silence for a moment.

“Aileen.”

“Y-yes…”

As she answered in a dispirited voice, he sat down on the edge of the bed beside her. His loosely worn robe parted, revealing his broad chest. Just as her gaze was captured by the sight, too revealing for midday, Cesare placed a hand on her cheek. He spoke in a low, firm voice.

“You are my wife now.”

She didn't understand why he was stating such an obvious fact. Aileen gave him a small nod.

“At the wedding, you vowed to obey your husband. And I, in turn, vowed to give you my sincere trust. Correct?”

Aileen nodded again.

Watching her nod with an amused expression, he caressed her cheek with his large hand and asked.

“Then, Aileen. Are you going to believe your husband, or a dead man?”

She hesitated for only a moment before giving Cesare the answer he wanted.

“My husband…”

At that, Cesare stated his conclusion simply.

“The wedding photograph in the newspaper right now is your face, Aileen.”

She wanted to argue with him. To say no, to ask him to look again, to point out how completely different her face was from the woman's in the picture.

But Aileen couldn't bring herself to say a word. His eyes, red as poppy petals, had completely captivated her. His pleasant, low voice continued softly.

“You are beautiful. That's not my personal opinion, but an objective fact, even from the perspective of others.”

Cesare added with a faint smile.

“Didn't you say so yourself? That she looks like a fairy.”

Finding herself in the position of having called herself a fairy, a soft blush colored Aileen's cheeks.

“That was because I thought it was someone else.”

As she offered her timid excuse, he lightly pinched her cheek before letting go and getting up from the bed.

“Finish reading the article. Your husband will be out for a little while.”

Aileen bid farewell to the man who said he'd be back soon, and as soon as she was alone in the bedroom, she looked down at the newspaper again. She paid no attention to the breakfast growing cold beside her.

‘This is me?’

Since Cesare had said so, it must be her photograph. Her head throbbed with confusion. Enduring the pain, which felt like a sharp awl poking her head, she turned the page. With the front-page wedding photo out of sight, her headache subsided a little.

She decided to read the article as Cesare had instructed. Aileen carefully read the article on the second page.

[*One dares to say, it would be no exaggeration to call it a scene from the founding myth of Traon. The Grand Duke and Duchess of Erzet captivated all the guests with a beauty no one could have imagined…*]

They were comparing the wedding to the founding myth of the Traon Empire. There was also a very detailed description of Aileen's appearance, so full of praise that she wondered if the writer had attended a different wedding.

‘Is it because this is a pro-imperial newspaper?’

But she had to believe Cesare. He never lied to Aileen.

He might not have told the whole truth, but he had never deceived her.

‘Still... for me to be the woman in this photo…’

Aileen mustered her courage and turned back to the front page. But the moment she saw the photo, the irreconcilable gap between it and reality made her headache return. Her body already ached as if she'd been beaten, a result of their wedding night, and the added headache was agonizing.

In the end, she decided to stop thinking for a moment and clear her head by finding and reading an article unrelated to the wedding. After searching for a while, Aileen finally found a political article and slowly began to read.

[*Count Domenico, as the new Senate President, heralds change for the Traon parliament… Aims to mediate between the Imperial Family and the aristocracy…*]

***

Though the wedding had been just the day before, the Grand Duke's residence was as quiet as ever. The only difference was the abundance of fresh flower decorations here and there.

The lilies from yesterday's wedding filled the drawing-room with their magnificent fragrance. Count Domenico, however, was far from admiring the flowers; he couldn't even bring himself to sit on the sofa, instead pacing the room with an anxious face. Watching the Count scurry about like a rat with its tail on fire, Cesare's lips twisted into a smirk.

“Count Domenico.”

“Your Excellency, the Grand Duke!”

The moment Cesare appeared, Count Domenico hurried toward him. Cesare waved a hand dismissively, motioning him back, and sat on the sofa. The Count, with an impatient look, followed suit and sat on the sofa opposite him.

Cesare leaned back leisurely against the sofa.

“Must I meet with you on the very first day of my marriage? Leaving my bride alone in our bedroom.”

The Count's face hardened at the seemingly joking remark.

“You are the one who made it so, Your Excellency.”

The Count, a man with a thin and severe appearance, spoke quickly, his breath coming in short pants.

“Since when has Your Excellency been so interested in politics? Now that you hold military power, are you coveting the imperial throne as well?”

Despite the insolent words, Cesare merely twisted his lips into a smile without replying. His patience finally exhausted, the Count's mustache twitched as he roared.

“Why don't you just kill them all! If you execute every noble in the capital, won't you get what you want!”

To which Cesare replied in a relaxed tone.

“You seem to be misunderstanding something, Count. I could take the throne right now if I wanted. We are quite affectionate brothers, after all. And as for the capital's nobles…”

His crimson eyes curved into a crescent.

As if playing a wicked prank, Cesare retorted.

“Even if I kill them all, I don't get what I want, you see.”