Previously
The wedding of Aracella and Damian begins with tension as mages and knights exchange insults in the hall. Aracella shares an emotional goodbye with her family before Frederick visits her, offering cryptic warnings about future regret and promising to stay by her side.
Oscar closed the distance between them with an affected smile. The closer he stepped, the more vivid her beauty became, far from dimming under his scrutiny.
He swept his eyes over her from head to toe.
He voiced the nauseatingly exaggerated praise as he reached out to touch her hair.
Aracella deftly slipped past his hand and fixed him with a freezing glare.
Aracella stared back at him in sheer disbelief.
Oscar chuckled with unearned confidence, seemingly convinced of his own words.
It was deeply insulting.
Though Oscar Vandermeer had decent looks, he paled in comparison to Damian’s striking appearance.
Oscar failed to grasp her point at once, letting out an admiring sound only a beat too late.
Oscar threw his shoulders back and thumped his frail chest with his hand.
Aracella looked at him with utter bewilderment.
Damian certainly had fine features, but anyone standing next to him would immediately notice his broad frame compared to Oscar.
She had never seen Damian's physique bare to know its exact lines, but she was certain his build far surpassed that of Oscar, who clearly never exercised and looked thin and feeble.
Oscar uttered these wildly inappropriate words to his future sister-in-law, accompanying them with a flirtatious wink.
It was obvious his entire life was filled with such conduct, utterly oblivious to the depth of his insolence.
Aracella decided to treat him like family, as he claimed they were, and offer a friendly piece of advice.
She delivered the line with a sweet smile.
Oscar’s face flushed crimson.
No woman had ever dared defy him before. He had spent his days as the eldest son and undisputed heir of Duke Vandermeer, accustomed to a life of sheer indulgence.
People had either avoided him as not worth their time or humored him in hopes of gaining some advantage.
Aracella had no need for either, standing before him with absolute composure.
Oscar trembled with fury as though about to strike, yet he could do nothing when his gaze met Aracella’s clear, resolute blue eyes.
When she took her seat and turned toward the mirror, disregarding his presence altogether, Oscar had no choice but to storm out of the waiting room, seething with rage.
Listening to his heavy footsteps recede, a sudden question popped into Aracella's mind.
As Oscar paced in frantic fury, catching his breath, he tripped over an outstretched foot and slammed violently against the floor.
Damian slipped a hand into his pocket and brought his boot down firmly between Oscar’s legs in a menacing motion.
Sensing an immediate threat to his prospects of fatherhood, Oscar scrambled backward like a cockroach, cold sweat beading on his brow.
Oscar froze for an instant at the word ‘starfish’ falling from Damian’s lips, then scowled fiercely.
Damian stood straight, careful not to wrinkle his uniform, and looked down at his brother from above.
Damian’s sharp voice dropped to a cold whisper by Oscar’s ear.
Though he wore a smile, his eyes were bone-chillingly cold.
Aracella was a sharp, discerning woman. She knew full well that she stood far above the likes of Oscar Vandermeer.
Moreover, she had chosen to marry Damian precisely to prevent her sister from being tied to the man before him, making any alliance with Oscar an impossibility.
Oscar yelled in outrage, blurting out the foolish question.
Damian tilted his chin higher, peering down at his brother.
Oscar flew into a rage at Damian’s mockery and lunged forward, but Damian deftly dodged the strike with practiced ease.
Oscar tumbled onto the floor once more in a comical heap, groaning as he lay sprawled out.
Damian stepped toward him calmly.
Oscar ground out his words through gritted teeth, trembling with indignation.
His nose was completely red from crashing into the wall. Damian merely gave an indifferent shrug.
He bowed with exaggerated courtesy, then turned his back.
Meanwhile, Oscar, consumed by humiliation, struck the wall with his fist in frustration, only for the pain to wrack his hand and draw another groan from him.
Damian heard the pathetic noise without glancing back, shaking his head in distaste before casting his eyes toward the bride’s waiting room.
He had caught sight of Oscar walking down the corridor with a scheming expression, followed him, and witnessed the exchange in the waiting room.
He had stood ready to intervene if needed, but Aracella had handled the situation effortlessly, fending off Oscar without a shred of assistance.
A faint smile touched Damian’s lips as he recalled the title Aracella had bestowed upon Oscar.
If Oscar was a starfish, he wondered what on earth she might consider him.
With the Emperor’s arrival, the ceremony commenced.
Damian stood before the altar, awaiting Aracella. Before long, she appeared, walking down the red carpet while holding her father’s hand.
The mage who had previously vowed to remain unwed seemed entirely transformed, a radiant bride making her way toward her groom.
Damian advanced with long strides to receive her hand.
As Aracella’s hand passed from her father to Damian, their eyes met.
His reflection settled clearly within her blue gaze.
The words he had uttered so casually before Oscar now felt entirely real.
Of course, the concept of family had never held much warmth for Damian.
Once they took their places before the altar, the High Priest began delivering the blessings and addressing the vows in turn.
In truth, the phrase ‘for the rest of your life’ hardly applied to this union, for an end had been set before it had even begun.
Yet neither betrayed a hint of that reality. In this moment, they appeared every bit like a couple wedding for love.
Damian and Aracella turned to face each other, the sparkling sunlight filtering through the stained glass and illuminating their fair skin.
Damian slid the ring onto the slender finger of her left hand, while Aracella fitted the band onto his strong finger.
The High Priest proclaimed their marriage.
And so, on a splendid spring afternoon, the two became husband and wife.
After the wedding concluded, everyone moved to the reception hall.
Damian had changed into a dark gray evening suit, while Aracella wore a pale pink satin gown.
The two played the role of a happy couple, circulating together and greeting the guests.
The Grand Duchess of Vandermeer then approached them, trailed by an entourage.
Damian bowed respectfully to his grandmother, who possessed an austere bearing.
Aracella, who had never met her prior to the wedding, curtsied politely as well.
The Grand Duchess fixed her with a displeased look.
Her sharp eyes bore into Aracella.
She had demanded a visit to the Vandermeer Duchy to receive her respects prior to the nuptials, but Damian had prevented it.
Aracella had no time to endure petty scolding; she was occupied enough as it was. Consequently, she had used every possible pretext to avoid visiting the duchy before the wedding.
As a result, this moment at the reception marked her very first encounter with her husband’s grandmother.
Aracella replied smoothly, brushing aside the Grand Duchess’s barb.
Damian’s brows arched distinctly, surprised to hear her call him by name so suddenly.
The Grand Duchess pointedly attached the name ‘Hugo’ to make it clear she did not acknowledge Aracella as part of the Vandermeer family.
Had Aracella married Damian out of love, she might have felt a sting from such treatment.
Naturally, that was not the case.
Aracella offered a broad smile while gesturing directly toward the Duchess. She seemed wholly unaffected, showing not the slightest hint of discouragement.
She added the correction gently, as if politely remedying an innocent oversight.
Her words made it abundantly clear that any attempts to demean her would prove futile.
The Grand Duchess gave a dry scoff as she looked at Damian.
Damian, who had kept his eyes fixed on Aracella throughout, shrugged unconcernedly.
With that parting omen, the Grand Duchess departed alongside the crowd.
As Damian watched her leave with a faint smile, he suddenly felt a brush of warm breath against his ear, catching him off guard.