Previously
Aracella encounters Niara White, a rival noblewoman who accuses her of using her body to seduce Damian. Aracella effortlessly humiliates Niara with sharp wit and magic before Damian arrives to coldly dismiss his unwanted suitor.
Marquis Hugo managed to complete all the preparations for their special guest in just half a day.
Decorated with lavender harvested from the garden, the dining hall felt bright yet elegant. Vases filled with white daffodils were placed along the lengthy table, interspersed with golden candelabras.
Aracella and Damian sat to the left of the Marquis, who occupied the head of the table, while the Marchioness, Iris, and Adrian took the right side.
Adrian, seated beside Iris, had barely settled down, his chubby cheeks still looking slightly puffy.
Indeed, the dishes served by the attendants were so flawless that no one would have guessed how short on time they were. The true caliber of a prestigious family shone through under such tight circumstances.
Shortly after the meal began, the Marquis took a sip of wine, set down his glass, and broached the topic.
The Marquis had two daughters, and looking at the matter objectively, it was only natural that high society favored his eldest.
Iris, the firstborn, possessed a gentle demeanor and refined manners; her serene nature gave everyone confidence that she would grow into a dignified noble lady.
From a young age, Iris had been considered the picture of an ideal bride, receiving proposal after proposal. The Marquis had naturally assumed she would be the first of his daughters to marry.
Aracella’s abrupt announcement had come out of nowhere.
Truthfully, the Marquis could not bring himself to believe the two were actually in love, but since they insisted upon it, he had chosen to accept the notion.
Unable to bring himself to use words like ‘strange,’ ‘bizarre,’ or ‘peculiar’ to describe his own daughter, the Marquis chose a far gentler term.
Damian swallowed his food, took a sip of water, and answered.
Though not much time had passed since they met and they had barely spoken, it was already evident that Aracella Hugo was no ordinary woman. Even so, Damian did not view that as a flaw.
Had Aracella been naive and simple, he might have reconsidered this contractual marriage altogether.
The Marchioness let out a soft sigh, recalling the countless times her second daughter had driven her to exasperation.
The eldest daughter looked remarkably like her mother, save for the blue eyes Aracella had inherited instead.
The Marchioness looked Damian straight in the eye and said,
Honestly, while she held her tongue because Damian was not her son, the Marchioness privately thought that, just like Aracella, he did not seem cut out for marital bliss.
Worry mounted in both parents’ minds over whether such a marriage could ever work.
Damian, however, offered reassurance.
Aracella chimed in with a dry tone, looking toward her mother.
Strikingly beautiful as she was—even in her mother’s eyes—she remained utterly impractical.
Even with ‘that someone’ sitting right beside her, she did not hesitate in the slightest.
The Marchioness pressed a hand to her forehead, despairing over her daughter.
Damian, however, replied with cool assurance.
“That is fine. Just thinking about becoming your husband makes me feel smothered as well.”
Though they traded words like banter, neither Damian nor Aracella showed the faintest trace of an expression.
The Marquis’s family found themselves genuinely wondering why on earth these two were getting married at all.
After a long pause, the Marchioness spoke in a grave, measured voice.
The Marchioness had opposed Aracella’s dream of becoming the Magic Tower’s Master and remaining unmarried more fiercely than anyone.
Yet once she resolved to stand by her, she had become her greatest advocate.
Damian waved off her counsel in a quiet, courteous tone.
Iris asked in surprise, gathering from Damian’s words that he had no intention of confining Aracella to the role of a mere wife.
High society held that a noblewoman, regardless of what she pursued before marriage, had to abandon everything afterward to focus solely on running the household and supporting her husband.
Aracella looked at Damian, her eyes wide with mild surprise.
The two had not actually discussed this point yet. Aracella naturally intended to keep working after marriage, but she had not known his stance on the matter.
‘For a knight, he’s far less rigid than I expected.’
Conservative as the Magic Tower was, the chivalric orders were vastly more so. Not a single woman had ever been admitted to the Imperial Knights since the founding of the empire.
For Damian Vandermeer, the paragon of all knights today, to take such a stance without any prior discussion was nothing short of astonishing.
In truth, they had not held a serious conversation more than five times, yet the Marquis was deeply moved by Damian’s answer, which cleared all his doubts away.
Aracella suspected they would hardly get along in the future either. This had been a mere stroke of luck, like a broken clock showing the right time once a day.
Damian shifted his gaze slightly toward Iris and Adrian, addressing them as well.
Just as the Marquis’s family realized they could no longer object and moved to resume eating, Adrian raised his hand, cutting through the calm.
Adrian, who had been brooding over his food the entire time, drew everyone’s eyes with his abrupt request.
Aracella nearly choked on the water she was drinking at the out-of-the-blue question, and even Damian closed his eyes in rare disbelief.
Adrian understood that he could no longer prevent his sister’s marriage. So, heart heavy though it was, he resolved to accept the bond between his second sister and this strange man.
Damian stared blankly at Adrian, whose head was bowed with solemn resolve.
Beside him, Aracella was desperately trying to swallow her laughter.
Damian let out a quiet sigh. Scolding a mere eleven-year-old child was simply out of the question.
Aracella buried her face in both hands. Though the others tried to preserve their composure, their strained efforts to stifle their own chuckles were plain to see.
Unable to hold back any longer, everyone burst out laughing.
As Damian headed toward the entrance after dinner to take his leave, the Marquis called after him.
His features bore an unmistakable resemblance to his second daughter, from the slightly wavy, pale purple hair down to his distinct, refined traits.
In truth, it was Aracella who had inherited her father’s looks.
When Damian turned, the Marquis gave a warm smile, coughed lightly, and extended a hand.
With that smile, he looked even more like his daughter.
Damian hesitated a fraction of a second before briefly taking the offered hand and letting go.
A rueful smile flickered across the Marquis’s face and vanished, giving way to the dignified bearing expected of a high noble.
Though the Marquis’s family knew nothing of it, Damian’s marriage to Aracella was strictly a contractual arrangement. For that reason, he had no intention whatsoever of interfering in her affairs.
Quite the opposite: he considered it ideal for her to go about her own life without disrupting his.
The Marquis gave Damian’s shoulder an affectionate pat before heading back inside. Left alone, Damian glanced down at his shoulder with a somewhat peculiar expression.
From the start, he had noticed how remarkably warm the atmosphere of the Hugo household was compared to other families. Even in casual exchanges, their deep affection and tight-knit bond were palpable.
As Damian stood absorbed in thought, Aracella appeared, walking down the hall. A sudden thought struck him: what would a woman raised in such a home think if she saw his own family?
Damian spoke on impulse, his gaze fixed on her.
Her answer carried neither hesitation nor doubt.
Damian let out a faint, sighing chuckle.
She knew all too well that without her family’s backing, she, too, might have faltered.
No one understood that truth better than she did.
Aracella gasped in mock offense, unable to suppress a giggle.
Noticing that his carriage had pulled up, she held out her hand for a farewell.
Once again, Damian ignored Aracella’s outstretched hand and merely offered a brief nod.
The corner of her mouth twitched.
Aracella had seen him shake her father’s hand from afar, and her eyes flared with indignation.
Damian merely gave a dismissive, indifferent response.
Her lips curved into an exasperated smirk.
Damian answered with absolute confidence, only fueling her annoyance.
Aracella waved her hand dismissively in irritation.
Perhaps she ought to steel herself even more thoroughly than Damian had today.
Damian bade her a courteous farewell before stepping into his carriage and departing.