Previously
Duchess Vandermeer fails to find scandalous information on Aracella Hugo, discovering only that she is a recluse who beats men. Damian confronts the Duchess, threatening to involve the Emperor to stop her excessive gift demands and protect his contract marriage.
An invitation arrived from the Duchess. The meeting was set for the same place as last time.
Aracella informed Damian of the news at once. Since he had asked to be notified if any trouble arose, she complied with his request.
In truth, Damian had no desire to see a direct confrontation between Aracella and the Vandermeer ducal family.
He still harbored a lingering unease that Aracella might walk away from the marriage at any moment.
Yet when he saw her insisting on coming along to the café, he felt somewhat bewildered.
He wondered whether this eagerness stemmed from her combative nature, or if there was another reason entirely.
While the two exchanged mild bickering, the Duchess arrived, fifteen minutes behind schedule.
Aracella was the first to spot her, offering a gentle smile and a light greeting.
The Duchess’s gaze, however, locked squarely onto the person seated beside Aracella.
Confusion washed over her face upon seeing Damian, whom she had never invited, sitting right there.
The Duchess flushed instantly at his blunt rebuke. Turning sharply, she glared at Aracella.
The Duchess pressed a hand to her forehead in open shock and frustration.
She had come today determined to scold Aracella thoroughly, but things had veered off course from the very start.
With Damian Vandermeer present at the table, she could not intimidate Aracella as she had planned.
With those words, Damian decisively shut down the prospect of any future encounters.
The corners of the Duchess’s mouth twitched faintly.
The two exchanged sharp glares in a silent contest of wills.
Aracella sat quietly, watching the spectacle without the slightest intention of intervening.
Aracella asked once the standoff broke and the tea began to be served.
The Duchess announced it sharply, as though the matter were beyond debate.
Aracella paused with her teacup half-raised, then gave a firm shake of her head.
The Magic Tower was located in the capital. Moving to the duchy would make commuting impossible, forcing her to abandon her duties.
A journey from the duchy to the capital took three full days by carriage.
The Duchess’s eyes flashed sharply, as if seizing upon an opportunity. She began to lecture in an exaggerated tone.
Aracella watched her carry on without a shred of shame, as if she had supported the marriage from the beginning.
She felt astounded by such sheer hypocrisy, as did Damian, who sat listening to her posture as a devoted mother.
“I am not marrying to become my husband’s maid, My Lady.”
The Duchess muttered with disdain, clicking her tongue as if to imply Aracella lacked proper breeding.
Unable to let that pass, Aracella fired right back.
The Duchess grasped the mockery instantly, her face turning crimson with rage.
Aracella merely offered a gentle smile.
The Duchess shrieked in fury before trying to regain her composure, speaking with harder resolve.
Damian intervened firmly, cutting across the conversation.
The Duchess glared at him, incensed.
The Duchess pressed her lips together tightly.
Naturally, she had never entertained any thought of grooming Aracella as her successor.
Doing so would indirectly acknowledge Damian’s claim to the succession.
Aracella spoke with a sly smile, covering her mouth with exaggerated delicacy while her eyes curved provocatively.
Beneath the table, the Duchess clenched her fist tightly.
She had a particular reason for wanting to drag Aracella to the duchy. She planned to use the authority of the Grand Duchess of Vandermeer, who resided there, to wear Aracella down, colluding with her to intimidate the girl into withdrawing from the marriage.
Yet if Damian acted as such a steadfast protector and Aracella used that as a convenient excuse, the Duchess was left powerless.
‘It seems his talk of shielding her wasn’t just an empty threat.’
Under these conditions, summoning Aracella alone in the future would prove exceedingly difficult.
Swallowing her mounting fury, the Duchess had no remaining pretext to press the dispute.
Aracella’s polite parting words, though utterly unnecessary, incensed the Duchess more than anything else.
It grated on her nerves that Aracella did not miss the chance to offer a courteous farewell, even when she could have walked away without a word.
The Duchess trembled as she watched Aracella and Damian leave, powerless to stop them.
Upon returning home, she erupted in rage before her husband and son, pouring out her deep grievance while wildly exaggerating Aracella and Damian’s conduct.
As she painted herself as the victim, her husband calmly lit a cigar.
The Duchess lowered her head beneath the biting question, warily gauging his reaction.
For all her grand promises that she could halt the match, she had achieved nothing so far. Quite the opposite: her interference had only solidified Aracella and Damian’s resolve to proceed.
As Duke Vandermeer put out his cigar, a harsh smile curved his lips.
Countless misfortunes could lead to a wedding’s cancellation before the couple ever reached the altar.
A cold smile settled over his face.
The Duke was well aware of the danger in such a course, intending it strictly as a last resort. Harming the daughter of an esteemed family was fraught with peril.
Yet with circumstances turning against him, he resolved to take that step, convinced that high risks brought effective results.
The Duchess gazed at him with eyes brimming with love and trust, untroubled by the slightest guilt over harming another person’s daughter.
Her absolute faith in her husband consumed her entirely.
The wedding preparations progressed smoothly.
The wedding gown and ceremonial attire were selected, and invitations were distributed to friends and acquaintances.
Following Damian’s warning, the Duchess stopped attempting to summon Aracella, ushering in peaceful, pleasant days.
All that remained was signing the prenuptial agreement and officially registering the marriage.
After bidding farewell to her colleagues, Aracella left the Magic Tower. With the wedding drawing near, her meetings with Damian to finalize the terms of the prenuptial contract had grown more frequent.
Her younger peers, unaware of the details, assumed that the workaholic Aracella had fallen head over heels for Damian,
to the point of leaving work early just to meet him. Since it was hardly a harmful misunderstanding, she let it be.
Stepping outside to head to the knight order’s office, the venue arranged for today’s meeting, her eyes caught sight of a carriage bearing the Red Falcon insignia rolling toward her.
She wondered in brief confusion, but soon a footman standing before the carriage approached and bowed respectfully.
Aracella narrowed her eyes, looking the unfamiliar servant up and down.
The servant answered without hesitation. Aracella felt mildly surprised, for Damian had never once sent a carriage or a servant for her before.
‘Lord Vandermeer isn’t the sort of person to be this attentive or meticulous, is he?’
Besides that,
Sending someone without any prior word seemed rather strange. Aracella weighed the matter carefully.
The footman opened the door and offered a hand as if hurrying her along. Aracella gave a discreet signal to her own carriage, waiting a short distance away, telling it to turn back.
She then climbed into the carriage without taking his hand and tossed out one final question.
Aracella gave a brief nod and pulled the carriage door shut. The carriage began to roll smoothly forward.
Gazing out the window at the passing scenery, she roughly mapped where the carriage was headed.
It seemed to approach a bustling district at first, only to gradually veer off toward a more deserted area.
‘Come to think of it, does it make any sense for things to quiet down just because of Lord Vandermeer’s warning?’
The ducal family was desperate to prop up their arrogant eldest son, the very man destined to become a traitor.
If their goal was to stop Damian from inheriting the title, it only stood to reason that they would throw everything into sabotaging this marriage.
Yet from the start, they had done nothing more than meet with her a handful of times and apply a bit of verbal pressure.
Had Aracella stood in Duke Vandermeer’s shoes, she certainly would not have stopped at that.
‘Well, let’s see what they have prepared.’
A pleasant smile crossed her lips as she tapped her fingers against the window frame.
Though she was stepping right into a trap under her own power, she felt not a flicker of fear.
Her present duties might not be demanding, leaving her focused purely on research, but she remained, at her core, a mage of extraordinary talent in offensive magic.
She possessed more than enough power to defend herself.
When the carriage finally drew to a halt in a desolate clearing surrounded by trees, Aracella drew the curtain across the window.
Now she could not see outside, but no one outside could look in, either.
She waited without making a move. Just as expected, the first response came from outside.
Thud… thud… bang—!
Someone hammered violently against the carriage door, the blows crashing like thunder.
Her blue eyes fixed calmly on the door.