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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 19
Chapter Title: The Wedding Night
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“I was so nervous. Do you think I handled it well?”
Aracilla, standing on tiptoe, whispered softly. A ticklish sensation arose from where their skin lightly touched.
Demian glanced down, confirming the face so close to his, and nodded.
“Yes, for someone so nervous, you handled it remarkably well.”
He added, looking at Aracilla who immediately smiled proudly.
“And you even called me by my name quite naturally.”
“Of course, we’re married now. You should call me Aracilla too.”
“Well, I—”
Demian rolled his eyes as if in thought, then curved the corner of his lips.
“I prefer the title ‘Wife’.”
“Ugh, how cringey. Just call me by my name.”
“Wife, there are many eyes on us, so please manage your expression properly.”
Demian chuckled helplessly at Aracilla’s unreserved expression of disgust.
Many eyes were on the bride and groom today. Aware of their surroundings, Aracilla quickly put on a smile.
“But shouldn’t we be linking arms instead of trying to control our expressions?”
Aracilla, who had been walking side-by-side with Demian this whole time because he refused any physical contact, gave him a pointed look.
“People usually at least link arms, you know?”
“No.”
“Don’t be so stiff, even at your own wedding.”
Her full, red lips barely moved as she rebuked Demian.
To outsiders, they looked like a newlywed couple sweetly whispering to each other.
“...Then I’ll put my arm around your shoulder.”
Demian’s hand rested awkwardly on Aracilla’s shoulder.
Noticing the faint gap between her shoulder and his hand, Aracilla shook her head.
He’s really making a fuss, honestly.
***
Having agreed beforehand not to take a honeymoon, the two headed straight for the Vandermir Estate once the reception ended.
All that remained was the wedding night.
It was a principle of the temple that newlyweds consummate their marriage on their first night, so it couldn't be avoided.
This was especially true for Aracilla and Demian, given their love marriage. Why would loving partners, having just married, avoid their wedding night?
Even if only to avoid any suspicion from the Ducal Family, a ceremonial wedding night had to take place.
Aracilla was prepared for the wedding night in the dressing room next to the bedroom. Dressed in a silk slip and a robe, she rose from her seat.
“Lady, no, Madam. Aren’t you nervous?”
Audrey followed behind Aracilla, who was leisurely heading to the couple’s room, and asked in a small voice.
Why was her own heart pounding with such tension over someone else’s wedding night?
“Audrey, that’s because you don’t know Demian.”
That man, who absolutely loathed skin-to-skin contact with others, had hidden his hand, which never touched her shoulder, throughout the reception by burying it in his abundant light purple hair.
So, there was no way he would lay a hand on Aracilla, even on their wedding night. Besides, they had a prior agreement.
“There’s nothing to be nervous about, nothing to worry about.”
“But Sir Vandermir, no, Master, is much larger than you, Madam.”
“Why? Do you think I’ll be crushed to death?”
Aracilla giggled softly. Audrey, consumed by even greater worry than the new bride, couldn’t say a word.
“See you tomorrow, Audrey.”
Aracilla, half-peering into the bedroom, said goodbye. Audrey managed a smile and nodded.
Tonight, no maid could enter that room.
“Have a peaceful night, Madam.”
The door closed, and Aracilla calmly surveyed the interior.
A crystal chandelier, curtains with intricate lace patterns, a soft and plush carpet, a fireplace surrounded by delicate carvings.
Demian had luxuriously decorated the room with expensive furniture. Was it to act like a loving husband, or was it genuinely his taste?
Aracilla, strolling around the room and observing, stopped before a pure gold sword hanging on the wall.
‘This, this. He decorated it entirely to his own taste.’
Aracilla looked up at the sword with a displeased expression. Even if it wasn't a real sword, having it hung on the wall didn't sit right with her.
‘I’ll hang a golden staff later too.’
Just as she resolved this and sat on the sofa, the door opened and Demian appeared. He was wearing a black robe with golden embroidery.
“Demian.”
Aracilla called his name and stood up from the sofa again. Her fine hair cascaded smoothly over her robe.
Not consummating the marriage was a clause explicitly stated in their prenuptial agreement.
‘There would be no relations whatsoever, including the wedding night.’
This was less about virginity and more about avoiding accidentally conceiving a child.
However, facing each other in the dimly lit room, prepared with flowers and wine for the wedding night, a strange feeling arose.
Maintaining eye contact, Aracilla spoke first.
“Let’s play rock-paper-scissors to decide who sleeps in the bed.”
She had no desire to sleep in the same bed as Demian.
It wasn’t because she feared being crushed to death, as Audrey worried, but simply because she was used to sleeping alone and felt uncomfortable with someone beside her.
“You should take the bed, Wife.”
“Really? Don’t go back on your word later.”
Aracilla scampered to the bed. Seeing her slender figure hop like a rabbit, Demian chuckled and went to the sofa.
On the table were some fruits, wine, and two wine glasses.
“Let’s take turns sleeping in the bed, one day each. Me today, you tomorrow.”
“You can just keep using the bed, Wife. I’ll hardly be sleeping here anyway.”
Aracilla wasn’t surprised or disappointed by his words in the slightest. In fact, she thought it was for the best. She’d have the room to herself, comfortably.
“Then that suits me fine. But what’s with that sword?”
Sitting on the edge of the bed, Aracilla pointed at the pure gold sword on the wall. Demian poured the wine and replied.
“It’s not a real sword.”
“I know that. I’m asking why you’d hang a sword there, it’s bad luck.”
Demian, who had been about to pick up his glass, frowned, furrowing his brow perfectly.
“Have you forgotten that I am a knight?”
“And have you forgotten that *I* am a mage?”
Knights typically regarded their swords as extensions of themselves, valuing them as much as their own lives. It was natural, as one couldn’t be a knight without a sword.
Mages, on the other hand, could cast spells perfectly well without their staffs. It didn’t mean they couldn’t be mages without one.
Thus, they didn’t have the custom of proudly hanging their staffs on the wall like knights did with their swords.
“If you’re going to do that, you should hang a staff too. It’d probably use less gold than a sword, how petty.”
Aracilla grumbled as she slipped under the covers. Even if mages didn’t have that tendency, it was still cheap to just hang a sword in what was supposed to be a couple’s bedroom.
“Understood. I’ll order one, so please stop.”
“Good. Don’t go back on that promise either, later.”
Aracilla lay down on the bed with a satisfied expression. A soft, plush sensation enveloped her entire body.
However, being in an unfamiliar room and an unfamiliar bed, sleep didn’t come easily.
Aracilla tossed and turned, then turned her body towards Demian. She saw him sitting like a statue, drinking wine alone.
“Do you like alcohol?”
“It’s just there. I’m only drinking it because it’s in front of me right now.”
“So, can you hold your liquor well?”
Aracilla stared intently at Demian. Though she couldn’t see clearly with only candlelight in the room, his cheeks seemed slightly flushed.
Through his loosely untied robe, his firm chest muscles proudly asserted their presence in the moonlight.
“I’m asking because you look a little drunk.”
“...I can’t drink much.”
“Still, you’ve only had one glass, haven’t you? Is your tolerance just one glass?”
Demian, who had actually had one and a half glasses, inadvertently looked towards the bed to retort, then paused.
Aracilla was sitting up halfway, her attire disheveled. Her slender shoulder was exposed as her clothes had fallen loose.
“If you can’t hold your liquor, stop drinking.”
“...I’ll handle myself, so please don’t concern yourself and just sleep.”
“We’re sleeping in the same room, so I’m worried you’ll get drunk alone. I don’t want to be with a drunkard.”
Aracilla snapped back with a huffy expression. For the record, her alcohol tolerance was incredibly high; she had never once been drunk.
That’s why seeing Demian’s cheeks flush so much after just a few sips made her both curious and uneasy.
‘What if he gets drunk and acts out towards me?’
“I don’t get belligerent when drunk, and I tend to fall asleep immediately, so rest assured.”
As if to prove his words, Demian’s eyes were half-closed. Aracilla observed him carefully.
‘He really looks like he’s about to fall asleep from being drunk.’
Hmm. Well, she was an excellent mage, so she could protect herself even if she were attacked in her sleep anyway.
Aracilla obediently lay back down. Closing her eyes comfortably, she soon drifted off to sleep.
Demian also put down his wine glass and lay stretched out on the sofa, covering his eyes with his arm.
Whether it was truly from the alcohol, or from hearing someone’s steady breathing,
he too fell asleep quickly.
And so, the wedding night passed.
Sunlight streaming through the arched window tickled Aracilla’s face. Frowning, she sat up and looked around with a dazed expression.
‘Where am I? In some strange room...’
‘Oh, right. I got married yesterday.’
She shook her head once, and her mind cleared a little. Yesterday, she got married and moved her residence to the Vandermir Estate.
She would have to use this room as a temporary bedroom until their divorce.
‘I should get ready for work.’
Aracilla stretched and got out of bed.
The Magic Tower had offered her a vacation for her marriage, but she had refused.
She was worried her colleagues might try to usurp her position while she was away.
Furthermore, there were already many who disapproved of her marrying a knight, so taking even a single day off for her marriage would only give them more reason to find fault.
“...Ugh.”
Aracilla, pouring herself water from the nightstand, paused at a groaning sound from somewhere.
‘What’s that dog-like sound?’
“...Ughh.”
At the slightly stronger groan than before, she turned her head in the direction of the sound and saw Demian lying on the sofa.
‘Was that sound from him?’
Aracilla cautiously approached Demian. He was frowning deeply, beads of cold sweat on his brow.
‘Is he having a nightmare?’
He looked so tormented that she, with good intentions, grabbed Demian’s shoulder and shook him.
“Demian, wake up.”
After a few shakes, Demian’s eyes slowly opened. His unfocused golden eyes looked at Aracilla.
“Are you alright?”
Demian, who had been staring blankly up at a worried Aracilla, soon sat up.
At the same time, *thwack*, a large hand gripped Aracilla’s wrist as if a hawk had snatched its prey.
“Do not touch my body without my permission.”
“...What?”
He was groaning, so she woke him up, and *what* was that reaction?
As if he didn’t see Aracilla’s flabbergasted expression, Demian released her and ran a hand through his hair.
He had a slight headache from the two glasses of wine he’d had yesterday. A bad dream had also contributed.
“Excuse me, I woke you up because you seemed to be having a bad dream, you know?”
“I never asked you to do that. Don’t act on your own accord and then expect praise.”
“Wow, can you really be this rude first thing in the morning? We just got married yesterday!”
Instead of a ‘thank you,’ he was just being snappish, making Aracilla’s blood boil.
Demian glanced at her, who was huffing and puffing while crouched beside the sofa, and covered his face with his hand.
“Fine, it’s all my fault. Just know that I’ll never wake you up again from now on!”
“Alright, now that you’re awake, get out.”
“I was going to anyway?!”
Aracilla retorted sharply, sprang up, and slammed the door shut as she left.
“He’s truly insufferable!”
Her angry voice pierced through the thick door. Only then did Demian lower his hand and sigh.
Perhaps because the morning sunlight illuminated the room so brightly, Aracilla’s attire—a thin slip—was all too visible just now. That’s why he had no choice but to cover his face to block his vision.
Demian leaned his head back and thought.
‘Indeed, it’s best we avoid sharing a room as much as possible.’
