* * *
‘What on earth is going on?’
Cynthia snuck a look over at Masera.
Masera was staring at Helene’s dress with a blank expression.
‘So Duke Rukanosa snatched it up. How ridiculously petty.’
Clearly the Duke, who couldn’t stand being overshadowed by Masera in even the smallest thing, had intervened and stolen it.
“…….”
Without realizing it, Masera glanced over to study Cynthia’s face.
He fully expected her to look disappointed or hurt. But instead, she wore the same calm expression as always.
“Ugh, can’t believe my sister beat me to it. Well, at least there’s still plenty of time until our wedding.”
“You seemed to really like that dress. Doesn’t it upset you?”
“Why would it? I can just get another one. This time, we’ll pick it out properly.”
Then Cynthia tilted her head, puzzled, and added,
“It’s weird though. My sister hates copying other people more than anything. She always wants something unique. She’s practically allergic to trends—kind of like a hipster.”
“I don’t know what kind of illness that is, but perhaps Duke Rukanosa coveted it.”
“Oh, to wear himself?”
Cynthia drew a completely unbiased conclusion.
He didn’t bother answering. It wasn’t worth dignifying.
Even if they were sworn enemies, the wedding itself was dazzling and beautiful. Seeing the garden completely covered in fresh flowers in the dead of winter was enough to make anyone gasp.
Cynthia looked around the garden with admiration.
‘Burning through this much cash just for a single day? Well, not my money, not my problem. So what if the rich want to set their wealth on fire.’
It all contributed to the economy, after all.
Thinking that, Cynthia rose from her seat, planning to grab some cake from the lavish buffet.
Suddenly Cynthia’s hand froze mid-air.
A cluster black haired ladies, all with overpowering presence, were gossiping about Helene. They were speaking elegantly in a foreign language.
[“I thought she would at least be well-educated, being royalty, but she’s no better than any common noble’s daughter.”]
[“She can’t even join our conversation, as she doesn’t speak Medeian.”]
It clearly wasn’t the local language, but was magically translated for Cynthia to hear.
The ‘Medea’ they spoke of was one of the powerful nations that ruled countless colonies.
‘Come to think of it, black hair is common for Medeians.’
She remembered hearing that Duke Rukanosa’s mother was a royal from a Medeian collateral line.
The ladies, who continued their elegant gossip, were likely the Duke’s maternal relatives, and also Medeian royalty from collateral lines.
[“Still, the youngest seems to resemble the founding royal family the most.”]
[“Oh my, there’s the youngest princess now. She’s been quite the hot topic in high society these days. ‘Cynthia’ is another name for the moon goddess Artemis, isn’t it? Just like ‘Helene’ is named after a goddess.”]
‘The hot topic of high society?’
As Cynthia carried the cake back, she tilted her head.
What could they possibly be buzzing about? Was it because of that ugly incident at the engagement ceremony?
“Cindy.”
At the familiar voice, Cynthia blinked and turned around.
Carlos, all dressed up, was smiling at her with twinkling eyes.
“It’s been a while, did you dress up so prettily for me?”
Cynthia lowered her gaze to look over her outfit, then lifted her head again and narrowed her eyes slightly.
“No. Women dress up to impress other women, didn’t you know?”
Most of the time, all the primping was so you’d hear other women say things like ‘Sheesh, Queen’ or ‘Step on me, Mommy’ it was all about that flood of female approval.
Carlos gave a little cough and muttered,
“These days, honestly… I can’t figure out why you’ve suddenly changed. You used to be so sweet, docile, and always smiling…”
Cynthia let out a long sigh, ‘Huuuuu’. That ‘docile’ bit was particularly grating.
Then Carlos leaned in close and whispered under his breath,
“I heard three of your servants died.”
Cynthia smiled again.
“They were embezzling military supplies. It was quite the headache making sure it didn’t impact the County.”
“Right, I didn’t think it was your doing. Unless you had killed them by accident, like before, but you don’t have the guts to pull off something like that. I figured the Brigadier General did it in response to what happened at your engagement party.”
Cynthia didn’t respond.
“He’s someone who kills his fiancée’s servants without blinking. You really think he’ll treat you any differently?”
It was a warning in case she was thinking of seeking Masera’s help.
“Cindy, once you’re married, you need to watch your back. It’d be a mess if you got pregnant. Don’t think he’ll suddenly cherish you just because you’re carrying his child.”
Basking in the sunlight, Cynthia stared vacantly into the distance for a long moment. Then she finally broke the silence.
“Are you done with all your bullshit? I want to go eat my cake.”
“What part of that was bullshit?”
“Hmm… pretty sure no one asked your opinion. Wasn’t it you who always said your ideal type was a childless, docile, naïve divorcée?”
Carlos’s face twisted in disbelief when he realized she hadn’t been listening at all.
Meanwhile, Masera was watching the two of them from a distance.
Even though they were only talking, just looking at them together put him in a foul mood. Maybe even more so than before.
It was strange—when had that pasty-white creature started to influence his mood like this?
Clink.
At the sound of a dessert plate being set down, Masera looked over to see Cynthia smiling, cheeks flushed.
“Brigadier General, you like this too, don’t you? I wanted to eat it together. But the cake’s frozen solid.”
“Fascinating.”
Masera replied without much enthusiasm, eyes sliding away.
“Come on, let’s pretend to be affectionate again.”
In a rare move, Cynthia offered him the strawberry from her cake.
Conscious of Carlos watching, Masera obediently accepted it.
A moment later, the crunch of the frozen strawberry shattering in his mouth could be heard.
“…….”
“See, I told you it was frozen.”
* * *
Before long, the ceremony wrapped up, and the Duke and Helene went inside to change into their party outfits for the reception.
The Duke wore a smug smile, proud of having thrown a wedding so grand that no one could easily replicate it.
‘Let’s see if someone from sub-par stock, like Masera, could pull off a wedding like this. Even if he did, he’d just be wasting money on a fake.’
Feeling thoroughly satisfied, he turned to Helene to accept her thanks.
“I’m truly touched that you prepared such a special dress for me yourself…”
Up until now, there had only ever been the dry formality typical of a political marriage.
And bearing the skilled ridicule from her mother-in-law and his maternal relatives, who were all from powerful collateral royals lines was no small feat.
So the Duke’s unexpected gesture had moved her deeply.
Helene felt like the happiest woman alive as she attended her reception, greeting each and every guest.
Amidst the deluge of blessings, one of the Duke’s maternal relatives brought up Helene’s wedding dress.
“You’re wearing one of Maryseiren’s wedding gowns. I hear you have to wait years just to place an order.”
“Yes, I’m grateful he went to such trouble.”
Helene’s cheeks turned a lovely shade of pink.
The woman toyed with her black hair, flashing an elegant smile.
“Is that so? I heard Brigadier General Vicente personally sourced the pearls and diamonds for his princess’ dress—did he happen to change his mind and cancel the order? Even so, it wouldn’t have been easy to acquire…”
“Madam!”
Someone hurriedly tried to stop her.
But the damage was done—her words, clearly meant to embarrass the Ducal House, had already turned the Dowager Duchess’ face red with anger.
Helene’s own expression chilled in an instant.
‘The Brigadier General had that dress made for Cynthia? And the Duke made me wear it?’
Helene’s tightly clenched hands trembled.
Meanwhile, Cynthia, who had been completely unaware that the dress had been made solely for her, dropped her jaw in shock.
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