Previously
Evgenia clarifies that she wanted the marriage and was only taking a sedative, leading to Euclid's intense embarrassment. Euclid apologizes for his perceived unworthiness as a husband and tells her she can still love someone else, which Evgenia finds absurd given her devotion to him.
The wedding ceremony in the temple began with the verification of the couple’s identities.
Clad in long, pure-white vestments embroidered with gold patterns, Damian addressed Euclid and me in a voice as clear as an autumn sky.
His silver hair and sapphire-blue eyes bestowed him with an aura of sanctity, completely embodying the novel’s descriptions of his noble beauty. Renowned for his extraordinary divine power, he had become the youngest High Priest in history, his reputation bolstered by unassailable integrity and unwavering devotion to service.
At first glance, his gentle, calm demeanor seemed to mirror Euclid’s image.
Except…
( ‘Not even close.’ )
Unlike Euclid’s golden eyes, which exuded the warmth of the midday sun, Damian’s deep blue gaze was as cold as winter and sharp as a blade.
That didn’t mean he was evil, however. He wasn’t arrogant like the Crown Prince, nor was he obsessive like Richard. Rather, his rigid sense of duty and unyielding nature stemmed naturally from his role as High Priest.
( ‘Even so, something feels off.’ )
Perhaps it was the lingering knowledge that he had turned down the female lead. For whatever reason, I couldn’t bring myself to like Damian. And most likely, the feeling was mutual.
Why did he have to ask again in such an unsettling tone?
A chill ran down my spine, prompting me to answer in a louder voice, “Yes.”
A part of me felt guilty, but in all honesty, Damian’s piercing glare was sharp enough to make anyone instinctively lower their voice. There was even a faint trace of anger in his eyes, and it certainly wasn't my imagination.
‘Could my black hair be what’s bothering him?’
True, every member of the Basilian family except Melissa had black hair, but that hardly seemed relevant…
Naturally, I had other reasons to feel uneasy. Even so, I forced myself to maintain a neutral expression, pretending to search for alternative explanations.
I wanted to avert my gaze, but fearing it would only arouse more suspicion, I kept my eyes fixed on him.
Fortunately, Damian announced the start of the rites without further protest.
( ‘Finally, I can breathe a little…’ )
Or so I naively thought.
( ‘…What on earth is this?’ )
“…”
Was this how temple weddings normally went?
It was still a wedding, so shouldn’t the sermon be about cherishing and loving one another until your hair turned gray?
Suspicious, I discreetly peered around from beneath my veil. The other priests were trading tense looks, anxiously watching Damian.
My suspicion solidified into certainty.
The word “atonement” had already come up twice. It seemed Damian was taking Evgenia’s notorious reputation to heart.
( ‘Just what kind of talk is this, though?’ )
Had he urged me to make a clean break with my past and devote myself to my husband from now on, I might have nodded along in agreement. But this…
Remembering how Duke Basilian had taken comfort in Damian officiating rather than having a lavish wedding, I felt a surge of anger toward the man for spouting abstract nonsense instead of offering a proper blessing.
Once again, he stared right at me, demanding an answer.
Just as Evgenia had sensed, Damian’s strange conduct cast an increasingly awkward pall over the temple.
Duke Basilian, who already bore a stern demeanor, looked even grimmer under the High Priest’s persistent pressure on Evgenia.
The Duke, who had felt a pang of sorrow while sending off his daughter that morning, had been deeply moved upon seeing her in her wedding gown.
The sight brought back vivid memories of the day Evgenia was born.
Unlike the joy of welcoming her older brother, Sionel, her arrival had brought a singular kind of happiness that brightened each passing day.
He had wanted to give his daughter everything precious in the world, including the depths of his devotion.
Yet, as she grew older, Evgenia began distancing herself from the family.
Following her mother’s death, their relationship grew ever more strained, souring into a nightmare where they lived as complete strangers.
He had resigned himself to the belief that such days would stretch on indefinitely. So when his daughter unexpectedly apologized, it had felt like a dream.
Though he couldn’t fully bring himself to believe it, he had thought that at last… at long last, the time had come to bridge the distance between them.
It had offered him hope—hope that their relationship might improve, even if it never became perfect.
Alexis, too, seemed hurt far more by losing the chance to mend ties with her than by Evgenia failing to share her marriage plans with him.
Above all else, however, Duke Basilian was concerned for Evgenia’s future married life.
Though he had deliberated for a long time and concluded that her obsession with the Crown Prince, Kayden, could no longer be ignored, his decision to push for her marriage had been weighed with heavy consideration. Thankfully, she had wanted to wed as well.
Still, truth be told, Duke Rodion was not Evgenia’s type.
To be sure, no one could deny he was exceptionally handsome, far beyond anything the imagination could conjure.
Yet Crown Prince Kayden possessed the potent masculine charm befitting a war hero—arrogant, stoic, and commanding.
By contrast, Duke Rodion was refined and elegant, possessing a gentle, quiet demeanor that was the absolute antithesis of the Crown Prince.
Even so, as a father, Duke Basilian felt far more at ease with Rodion as a son-in-law.
Ever since their first meeting, Rodion’s courteous manners had left a favorable impression, and seeing him again in the capital had only deepened that feeling.
Perhaps that was why the Duke had done something he would never have done with anyone else—he had revealed his vulnerabilities, including the pain Evgenia had endured, and earnestly asked Rodion to take good care of her.
Duke Rodion, who always tactfully steered clear of matters regarding the imperial family and the Crown Prince, had responded with characteristic humility, providing immense reassurance.
His unwavering demeanor inspired trust, and even Evgenia’s reactions during dinner, subtle though they were, had hardly seemed negative.
It had felt as though everything would fall right into place so long as the wedding proceeded without a hitch.
And yet…
( ‘What is wrong with the High Priest?’ )
As a high-ranking noble and a core official of the central government, Duke Basilian had interacted with High Priest Damian often enough to be well aware of his true nature.
Despite his outwardly gentle appearance, Damian was far more obstinate than he looked. Today, however, something was especially amiss.
Damian’s icy blue eyes, brimming with contempt, remained locked onto Evgenia, radiating a chill that went well beyond mere annoyance—it looked like pure disdain.
Though the ducal house was fiercely loyal to the Emperor and maintained close ties with the imperial family, they had never once clashed with the Temple.
In fact, the Basilians were the Temple’s most generous benefactors in the entire empire.
How, then, could this humiliation possibly be justified?
A dry chuckle escaped Sionel, seated beside the Duke. He had crossed his legs and folded his arms, clearly signaling his indignation.
Sionel had always had a soft spot for his younger sister, despite pretending otherwise. Ever since the day Evgenia was born, his affection for her had been plain to see.
And Alexis, known for his fierce protectiveness, would have retaliated against anyone who dared insult his sister. Had he been present, he would have thoroughly ruined the ceremony.
The air grew taut as the temple attendants, sensing the bizarre atmosphere, hesitated to step in.
Then, a voice no one anticipated broke through the temple’s hush.
“What if my fate is to forge my own path?”
The words, quiet and resolute, drifted out from behind the bride’s veil.