Chapter 3
3
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Returning to her room, Grace massaged her right wrist, which she had used to swing the bottle.
'Should I have wrapped a towel around my wrist before hitting him? Real combat is different, after all.'
She swallowed her fierce thoughts.
As Grace walked down the dark hallway, she suddenly stopped. Turning her head, she saw her reflection in the blackened window.
Long, wavy blonde hair, a small, slender face with delicate features in perfect harmony, and soft, light green eyes. Not particularly short, but her petite frame made her seem smaller than she actually was.
The maids complimented her beauty every day, but Grace hadn't liked her appearance for a long time. She had tried wearing heavy makeup to look stronger, but it only made her look like a child pretending to be an adult, which was ridiculous.
She grumbled about how nice it would be if she could make someone's knees buckle with just a glance. Her hunting instructor had laughed and said,
'In my opinion, my Lady, you already have a very good weapon.'
'A weapon? My appearance?'
'When you're catching something bigger than yourself, you can't look strong. Usually, those kinds of guys die first. You have to completely relax your opponent, then hit them in the back of the head.'
From that day on, Grace used her appearance as a weapon. She acted like an innocent and naive noble lady, wore a docile expression, behaved demurely, and simply brushed off any harsh words as the barking of dogs.
As a result, Duke and Duchess Taylor thought of Grace as a disposable pawn, and they left her to handle all the documents that required the head of the family's confirmation and decision. In that complete carelessness, Grace waited for her moment and gathered information.
Just as she was about to move again, a mocking voice came from the end of the hallway.
"Your husband-to-be is quite impressive, isn't he?"
Rosette Taylor, who looked just like Duchess Taylor, approached.
"He's Her Majesty the Empress's nephew, no less. How wonderful for you, Grace."
Treat all harsh words as the barking of dogs.
As Grace repeated this mantra, Rosette smiled brightly.
"From tomorrow, you'll be the Empress's niece-in-law, won't you?"
If she had her way, she would have liked to throw ashes on that smiling face, but she couldn't ruin things now. Grace smiled slightly and tilted her head.
"Thank you, Rosette."
Her elegant and gentle voice seemed to contain genuine gratitude, which only made Rosette's face contort.
Grace always responded with a smile to words that should have made her tremble and retort. That was exactly what drove Rosette crazy every time. There were more moments when she wanted to throw stones at that noble face than there were grains of sand on the beach. Rosette moved close to Grace and said fiercely,
"Yes, keep smiling like a fool for the rest of your life. He's the perfect husband for you, so serve him and endure it for the rest of your life."
Listening to Rosette's harsh words, Grace thought, I just came from swinging a wine bottle at that husband-to-be.
"Don't ever come back to Taylor, even in death, Grace. This isn't your home."
"……."
"It's my home."
Rosette whispered gently, imitating Grace, then turned away abruptly. Grace stood blankly, staring at the spot where she had disappeared.
The expression that had become a habit was calm even in moments like this. The laughter that escaped like a cough was closer to a smile than a sneer. But one word she couldn't bear pierced her heart like a sharp blade.
"'My home'?"
Grace bit her lip and moved her feet.
How amusing. Everything in the Taylor Duke's Castle. People, things, even a sip of the river flowing through the Taylor Duchy and a handful of wind...
"None of it is yours."
The murmur, close to a lip movement, was buried in the sound of the wind outside the window.
＊ ＊ ＊
Around that time, a stranger arrived in the Taylor Duchy.
His jet-black hair was neatly styled, as if he hadn't just traveled through the night, and his face was exceptionally beautiful, but his sharp eyes gave him a fierce impression. The gatekeeper, overwhelmed by the extraordinary aura emanating from the large man, didn't dare to look him in the face, but simply checked his identification and opened the gate.
The man following him grumbled softly.
"Why did you even bother creating a fake identity? You received an invitation, so you could have just attended."
At the grumbling of his aide, Joseph Rexton, Walter Richmond chuckled and took out a card from his pocket.
[To His Excellency Duke Richmond, whom I deeply respect.
—From Grace Taylor.]
The elegant script suited the owner's name perfectly.
"I wonder. I'm not sure if this is a real invitation."
"It's an invitation to the wedding, so it's an invitation."
Walter shrugged and put the card back in his pocket. Then, he looked up at the Taylor Duke's Castle, which was shrouded in darkness, and muttered,
"Since when does the bride send the invitation herself?"
"……."
"She says that if I come to her wedding..."
Walter blinked slowly.
"She'll gain the sharpest sword to protect my secret. Is this still an invitation?"
Joseph scratched the back of his head, as if he couldn't understand at all, and Walter stroked his chin with his fingertips, lost in thought.
The sharpest sword to protect his 'secret'. What could that be?
What on earth does this woman know about him?
＊ ＊ ＊
The next day, in the early dawn, the massive doors of the chapel located within the Taylor Duke's Castle were thrown open.
Silver-white banners, symbolizing divinity, densely covered the chapel walls, and bouquets of lilies, symbolizing purity and love, were placed everywhere. The servants were busily moving about, making final preparations for the perfect wedding, and the priests dispatched from the temple were busy offering prayers for the upcoming ceremony.
The invited guests were also busy getting ready. A wedding at the historic Taylor Duke's Castle! Moreover, since the groom-to-be was the younger Count of the prestigious Sachsen Count Family, the Empress's relatives, many were filled with anticipation for the upcoming wedding.
However, around that time.
"How dare you serve your master in such a way!"
Along with Countess Sachsen's sharp roar, the deputy butler's cheek turned to the side. Still not satisfied, the Countess slapped the deputy butler's cheek once more.
"I apologize."
Turning to her son with a huff, the Countess changed her angry expression as if flipping her hand, and let out a sigh with a very pitiful face.
A bruise on this handsome face! And on this day of all days!!
A blue bruise marked one of the younger Count's eyes and forehead. The doctor had hurriedly brought ointment to reduce the bruising and swelling, but the glossy ointment only made the bruise more prominent. Moreover, Jack Sachsen was in agony from the throbbing headache, as if he had a hangover he didn't even have.
"How... how did this happen?"
The Countess asked with a tearful face.
Jack Sachsen was just as frustrated. As was usually the case after drinking, he had no memory of it at all. He snapped, as if annoyed by his mother's concern.
"Don't worry about it."
The Countess muttered, carefully examining the bruise on her son's face.
"The bruise looks exactly like... some kind of disease."
"I said, don't worry about it!"
Then, Count Sachsen, who had been sitting on the sofa, burst out in anger.
"How can I not worry when you're going to enter the chapel looking like that! It looks like you passed out on the table while drinking! You must have fallen onto a wine bottle, you stupid idiot!"
He glared at his son's face, then jumped up from his seat.
"There's no way to hide that mess now! It's time, so stop applying that damn ointment and get ready! And you, stop dawdling there and come out!"
Jack Sachsen frowned at his father's callous words, exuding a fierce aura, and the Countess bit her lip and raged.
"How can they call themselves a ducal family and not even manage their castle properly! How could they let a guest get such a big injury on his face! And what about the Lady! What kind of family is Sachsen! How can she not even show her face to her in-laws!!"
She fanned her face to cool the heat rising in her face and followed her husband out of the room.
"When we return to the Count's residence, I'll have to teach that impudent child the Sachsen family's customs!"
The Countess repeated the words 'Sachsen is a great family that produced Her Majesty the Empress' several times as she headed to the chapel. She was so imposing that even the noble ladies heading to the chapel kept their distance.
Then, when she arrived in front of the long corridor at the entrance of the chapel, her unstoppable steps were momentarily halted. The noble guests who were gathered in groups of three or five, chattering about the upcoming wedding, and even the gazes of Duke and Duchess Taylor, Lady Rosette, and the young Duke William, all turned to one place.
The corridor was connected in a straight line with the main entrance of the chapel. Crossing that place, which was proving the history of the historic Taylor Duke's Family with its whole body, the protagonist of this wedding was approaching.
