Previously
Aracella leaves Damian after revealing the secret imperial pact regarding his inheritance, leaving him stunned and suspicious. Back home, she comforts her younger brother Adrian and lies to her sister Iris, claiming she wants to marry Damian for love and his looks to prevent Iris from sacrificing herself.
<To Miss Aracella Hugo.
I would like to meet tomorrow at 3:00 p.m. at Cafe Forina on 7th Street.
Let us speak in more detail regarding what you discussed in my office the other day.
—Damian Vandermeer, Commander of the Red Falcon Knights.>
The reply had taken an entire week to arrive.
Aracella scoffed as she looked at the neat, rigid handwriting.
Remembering Damian’s arrogant words and conduct when she visited the knight order, she furrowed her brow.
The tone was polite, but it was essentially a unilateral notification of the date and place.
When she had written to him the first time, she had courteously asked when he was free.
Gazing down at the letter, she muttered under her breath.
Audrey, who had been carefully brushing Aracella’s soft hair, tilted her head.
Aracella reached back and showed the letter to her maid.
Furthermore, the man she was dealing with was not merely the Commander of the Red Falcon Knights, but the second son of Duke Vandermeer.
Clicking her tongue lightly, Aracella picked up a pen and wrote her reply.
<To Lord Vandermeer.
Let us meet at 5:00.
—Mage of the Magic Tower, Aracella Hugo.>
‘I refuse to lose, either.’ One corner of her red lips curled into a smirk.
What time was it?
Engrossed in her magical potion research, Aracella suddenly raised her head and checked her pocket watch.
4:30 p.m.
Only thirty minutes remained until her meeting with Damian.
Aracella swiftly wrapped up her research and packed her bag, realizing a single misstep would make her late.
Entering the laboratory, Sally widened her eyes in surprise.
It was rare to see Aracella preparing to leave while the sun was still high.
Even within the Magic Tower, she was famous for being a dreadful workaholic who regularly worked overtime and pulled all-nighters.
Aracella patted Sally lightly on the shoulder and hurried out of the Magic Tower.
Beneath a tree near the entrance, Audrey was waiting with Marquis Hugo’s carriage.
Boarding the carriage, Aracella instructed the driver to head straight
to Cafe Forina on 7th Street.
The coachman steered the horses toward the downtown district.
Aracella tossed her hair back and narrowed her eyes.
At present, she was wearing the white uniform of the Magic Tower mages.
Crafted for practicality, the upper garment was long like a cloak, embroidered with the Magic Tower’s emblem in gold, while the sleeves and collar were trimmed in blue.
Yet what caught the eye above all else was the four-star badge pinned to her chest.
Although the Magic Tower had no rigid internal hierarchy, it awarded star badges to mages who displayed exceptional merit.
The Magic Tower had only seven star badges in total, and the fact that Aracella had achieved four stars at such a young age was her greatest pride.
Since that was undeniably true, Audrey could say nothing more.
Before long, the carriage carrying the two came to a halt in front of Cafe Forina on 7th Street.
Aracella lifted her chin and spoke with complete confidence.
Audrey swallowed back the words she could not say with a sigh.
The bond between them, having spent years together as maid and young mistress since childhood, ran deep.
In some ways, Audrey was Aracella’s first friend, so she knew her better than anyone.
When her mistress lost her temper, she was prone to using magic to rip people to shreds…
Audrey could not help feeling particularly anxious, remembering how she had barely managed to stop a brawl from breaking out during their first meeting.
Leaving her fretful maid behind, Aracella stepped into the cafe alone.
In the sparsely populated establishment, one man stood out immediately.
Sitting quietly by the window, he looked as if he had stepped straight out of a masterpiece painting.
The late afternoon sun poured over his impeccably proportioned features.
Yet what caught Aracella’s eye was not his striking face.
Taking note of Damian’s knight uniform, she silently praised her wise decision to come straight here.
It would have been absurd had she been the only one to stop by home to change into a dress. She was immensely glad she would not have to beat her pillow in defeat all night.
As she approached with steady strides and offered a greeting, Damian, who had been gazing out the window, slowly turned his head.
At those words, Aracella checked her pocket watch. It was 5:03 p.m.
She retorted calmly, taking a seat and ordering herbal tea from the server.
A teacup was already placed in front of Damian.
A heavy silence fell between them for a moment.
In that silence, Aracella sat with her arms crossed, her gaze colliding quietly with Damian, who sat with his legs crossed.
Once their inexplicable staring contest ended and the herbal tea was served, Aracella spoke.
She raised her chin, wearing a smile that mingled utter confidence with triumph.
Damian’s brow twitched faintly.
The woman before him was beautiful enough to turn the heads of the few patrons present the moment she entered, but she was hardly an ordinary woman.
To begin with, it was unheard of for a noble lady to raise an uproar about becoming the Master of the Magic Tower in a society where highborn women were expected to be modest, demure ladies.
Damian, who had conducted an investigation into Aracella, narrowed his eyes.
It was obvious she stood to gain something from this marriage, but he could not fathom what she wanted that made her propose first.
She was a woman harboring the grand ambition of becoming the first female Master of the Magic Tower.
His investigation had also confirmed there was absolutely no prior connection between Aracella and the Vandermeer Duchy.
If this was not a trap, Damian was fully prepared to use her as an instrument for his vengeance.
Aracella’s eyes widened slightly at his answer, which was far more compliant than she had anticipated.
Damian wasted no time and got straight to the point.
Aracella had no interest in the succession battle within the Vandermeer Duchy. The same held true for a future where Oscar Vandermeer committed treason.
All she sought was her family’s safety and an unhindered life for herself.
“Aside from that, I have one demand: divorce me as soon as possible.”
Only then would Aracella’s plan to become the next Master of the Magic Tower remain intact.
Damian was completely unfazed by her bringing up divorce before they were even wed.
His specific conditions flowed so readily it was as if he had been waiting to lay them out.
‘Not bad.’ Especially the part where he clearly stipulated he had no desire for children.
Knowing he might go back on his word later, Aracella intended to bind the marriage contract securely by involving the temple.
From Damian’s standpoint, that was hardly a drawback either. In fact, it was more than welcome. He had no wish to be held back by this marriage, either.
Aracella raised her teacup with graceful elegance.
Peculiar as she might be called, it was unmistakable that she had been raised with the refined upbringing of a prestigious house.
Damian paused briefly at the word ‘love,’ but soon nodded in understanding.
Within the Vandermeer Duchy, it was the eldest son, not the second, who was favored as the heir.
Aracella recalled Iris’s words in her dream—the two brothers had fought over the succession, and ultimately, Oscar, who had married Iris, inherited the duchy.
How had the eldest son learned of it and used it to his advantage? Was there some hidden reason behind it?
Remembering the future where he committed treason and brought ruin upon the family, Aracella asked suspiciously,
The eldest son’s mother was the second wife, while the second son’s mother had been the first; their tangled internal affairs were laid bare beneath the surface.
Pondering for a moment, Aracella offered a gentle smile and spoke.
Marriage was often called a union between families. That meant no matter how secret they kept it, his family would inevitably discover it before the vows were exchanged.
It was far wiser to devise a scheme that ensured no one could tear this marriage apart.
Damian was momentarily struck dumb by Aracella’s audacity to announce her marriage at the prince’s banquet.
A profound familiarity rang through her voice as she called the Crown Prince by his first name so casually.
Damian raised an eyebrow, visibly surprised.
Quite some time had passed since her graduation from the academy.
For a second, Damian felt a flicker of curiosity regarding the nature of their relationship, but he let it slide, seeing no need to delve into it.
Setting his pointless curiosity aside, Damian nodded in agreement.
Even the Duke of Vandermeer would not dare meddle at the Crown Prince’s banquet.
It was indeed the finest option, provided there were no blunders.
With their business concluded, the two of them rose from their seats.
In good spirits, Aracella readily offered Damian her hand for a handshake.
Damian merely stared at her slender white hand before nodding.
Aracella’s smile cracked as her handshake was blatantly rejected right before her eyes.
She turned on her heel and swept out of the cafe without so much as a goodbye.
Damian followed after her with measured strides.
As the late afternoon drew to a close, the alliance between two people pursuing their own ends had begun.