Chapter 10

The Guests Hide Their Killing Intent

“Everyone, calm down. The one suffering the most in the North will probably be His Grace the Duke. Having to marry a woman from the capital just to produce an heir? Damn it!”

Everyone clicked their tongues and sighed as though the earth itself were sinking beneath them.

The Duke’s wedding was scheduled to take place at the same location where the weddings of the previous heads of the family had been held.

It was Winhill Square, located not far from the ducal castle.

Calling it a square was almost an understatement. It was practically a gigantic basin.

At the very center of the square stood a statue of the first head of the Bexborn Ducal House.

To the people of the North, he was practically a god.

Whenever a Bexborn Duke was married, the Northerners would begin lining up several days in advance, often from dawn, just to get even a little closer to such a historic moment.

But this time, no one had rushed out with tents to secure a spot.

Most people were dissatisfied with this marriage.

Arcas was well aware of the situation.

“Wow. You look magnificent, Your Grace. At this rate, you might even outshine the bride.”

Ulrich made a square with his hands, bent forward, and looked Arcas up and down as though taking pictures of him, openly admiring his appearance.

Arcas’s body looked sleek and imposing in his perfectly tailored, pristine white uniform.

Delicate yet elaborate embroidery made of a noble silver thread known as Light Silver adorned the uniform. The tasseled epaulettes attached to his shoulders swayed gently with every step, adding even more dignity and authority to his appearance.

The head of the household, who already seemed to embody the height of elegance in his everyday clothes, looked even more handsome and alluring in his ceremonial attire.

His specially styled hair, swept neatly back, made his naturally cold appearance seem even more striking.

Finally, Arcas approached the mirror and fastened the buttons on his sleeves.

“I don’t know whether the bride will make it through the wedding alive.”

The atmosphere was grim.

The semi-forced marriage imposed by the Imperial Family had enraged the Northerners.

The fact that the North and the capital had a long history of conflict only made matters worse.

The people of the North were constantly eliminating monsters and protecting the entire country from danger, yet instead of thanking the Bexborn Ducal House, the Imperial Family had merely kept them in check.

To the Northerners, disrespect toward the Bexborn Ducal House was practically the same as disrespect toward themselves.

Therefore, Arcas wouldn’t have cared even if not a single Northerner showed up to the wedding.

In fact, he wouldn’t have been surprised if someone launched a terrorist attack in an attempt to kill the bride.

Even if that happened, he had no intention of stopping them.

Though he himself didn’t know it, he was the male lead of a bleak, angst-filled romance fantasy.

He had no interest in the bride’s safety, even if something happened to the woman he had been forced to marry.

“Indeed, I’m not sure she’ll make it through safely either. She’ll be incredibly jealous of you! If I’d been born a woman, I would’ve wanted to become Your Grace’s ninety-ninth wife.”

“That’s disgusting. Don’t make me imagine it.”

“Yes, sir.”

A tiny crease appeared between Arcas’s brows.

Ulrich remained silent for a moment, but soon became unable to resist the urge to speak again.

“By the way, all the servants and knights are in an uproar. The young lady of the Andover Ducal House must be extraordinarily beautiful. Even you must think she’s pretty, right, Your Grace?”

Ulrich blushed shyly and gave Arcas a light poke in the waist.

Arcas turned around with a completely expressionless face.

It was time to head out to the square where the wedding ceremony would be held.

“Right? Right? She’s pretty, isn’t she?”

Ulrich stubbornly followed behind Arcas.

Pretty?

The image of Eshaphe from the first time he had seen her several days ago surfaced in his mind.

Her pink hair, an extremely rare color in the North, flowed softly in a delicate rose hue.

Her eyes, sparkling like a clear blue sky, were especially mysterious.

Her face was both softly rounded and delicately slender, glowing as white as a cloud.

She had the kind of beauty that would make anyone who saw her turn around for a second look.

And yet, more than the impression that she was beautiful, Arcas had felt that she was strange.

The woman was unusual.

Even though she had nearly been killed after being caught by a griffin, she hadn’t screamed even once.

Rather than looking frightened, she had seemed remarkably composed.

He had also heard that she was eating Northern food for the first time, yet apparently she had been eating surprisingly well for someone from the capital.

Not only that, but everything in the North should have been unfamiliar to her, and yet she was adapting far too well without showing much dissatisfaction.

It left him with an unpleasant feeling that there was more to her than what appeared on the surface.

‘Is her identity as a Duke’s daughter a disguise?’

That couldn’t be possible.

According to his intelligence agents, Eshaphe Andover was nothing more than an ordinary Duke’s daughter.

She had never displayed any suspicious movements.

‘She’s just a strange woman.’

That was the conclusion Arcas reached.

Even Eshaphe’s excessively lovable appearance was probably part of the Emperor’s scheme.

Some of the Northerners had already become captivated by her looks.

With that thought, Arcas passed through the corridors and descended the stairs into the castle’s lobby.

Beyond the area where sunlight was streaming in, someone wearing a dazzling white dress was already standing with her back turned.

The bride had arrived first and was waiting for him.

Her voluminous, layered dress sparkled in the sunlight like countless ripples of light dancing across the surface of water.

Arcas walked toward her without a trace of emotion.

When he had drawn close enough, the bride seemed to sense his presence and turned around.

Her eyes curved gently as a radiant smile blossomed across her face.

It was such a bright smile that it seemed to make everything around her fade into the background.

From her softly tinted lips came a voice gentler than flower petals.

“You’ve arrived. I just came down myself.”

The wedding procession of the Duke and Duchess of Bexborn left the ducal castle.

The carriage, lavishly decorated with flowers, ribbons, and all sorts of ornaments, was completely open on all sides.

I was sitting inside it beside Arcas.

“There’s definitely going to be an assassination attempt against you today! I’ve already made you wear a sufficiently sturdy protective vest underneath your dress, but there’s nothing we can do about your head and neck. Instead, we’ll hide around you and silently kill anyone suspicious the moment we spot them!”

Ingrid’s panicked voice rang clearly in my ears.

No, seriously. Who would assassinate the bride at a wedding?

I looked around with a faint smile.

There were countless Northerners gathered to watch the procession.

Apparently, the Northerners absolutely adored the Bexborn Duke—and especially Arcas, among all the previous Dukes.

I wondered what it felt like for them to watch the man they loved being married off.

‘They must be sending him affectionate, proud, and warm blessings from the bottom of their hearts…’

‘…Nope. They’re glaring at me.’

For a moment, I felt as though I had transformed into a porcupine.

The Northerners were either glaring at me or looking at Arcas with pity.

‘One of them definitely looks like they’re about to try to kill me.’

Every now and then, a flash of killing intent could be seen among those hostile gazes.

Ingrid’s dramatic insistence that she would protect me hadn’t been an exaggeration after all.

Come to think of it, I had almost been poisoned a few days ago when I tried to drink an iced Americano.

‘Good grief. In this life, I wanted to hide my strength and just enjoy a romance. Is it seriously possible that I’m already at risk of assassination before I’ve even gotten married?’

Even so, I didn’t want to look gloomy during my own wedding.

So as the procession continued, I smiled brightly and gave the Northerners small waves.

At that moment, I noticed several people flinching.

Not a single person waved back.

Still, I was genuinely happy to see the Northerners.

‘Aren’t they going to become my people now, like my own children?’

Of course, they showed absolutely no intention of treating me like a mother figure.

But I decided to embrace even that.

‘They’ll all come to like me eventually anyway. That’s how clichés work.’

Meanwhile, I could feel Arcas staring at me.

“You don’t need to show quite that much enthusiasm.”

There was an obvious meaning behind his words:

You’re only going to be the Duchess on a two-year short-term contract, and you might even get assassinated and die today, so stop drawing attention to yourself.

“Your Grace shouldn’t just sit there like a statue either. At least give them a little wave. Everyone is frowning.”

I glanced around.

“They seem to care about you so much that they’re reluctant to send you off to marry an outsider like me. One little wave and smile from you would probably soothe their disappointment immediately.”

An awkward silence descended.

Judging by Arcas’s complete lack of response, he seemed determined to continue pretending to be a statue.

Well, he did look like a statue anyway, so it wasn’t necessarily a bad choice.

The real problem arose when we arrived at Winhill Square, the location of the wedding ceremony.