Chapter 1
A woman in a comfortable dress stepped out in front of the gates of the Count of Priscillin’s estate.
Her golden hair glistened under the sunlight, and her fair skin was flushed a delicate red from the heat. But what truly stole one’s breath were her intelligent, vividly blue eyes that sparkled with brilliance.
Cradled in her arms was proof of her graduation from the academy—with top honors.
Rivenia Priscillin.
She was beautiful, wise, and admired. A woman of talent and great personal charm.
And yet, her return home was far from grand. Not a single servant greeted her at the entrance—not even a strand of their hair appeared.
Only a few of the maids she had been close to came rushing out to welcome her.
“My lady! You’re finally here!”
Despite their casual approach, Rivenia simply smiled warmly.
“It’s been a while, everyone. Here’s my diploma. I look like a complete mess, so I’d really like a bath.”
“You look like a fairy as always! Never a mess!”
Rivenia chuckled at the maid’s flattery, her smile refreshing.
But the warm reunion didn’t last long. As Rivenia entered the main hall, the butler blocked her path.
“My lady, the master is calling for you. Please, this way.”
“She just arrived! Shouldn’t she be allowed to rest first—”
The butler shot the maid a sharp glare. The maid flinched, and Rivenia gently patted her shoulder, unfazed.
“It’s fine. Let’s go.”
“I’ll escort you, my lady.”
While the maids fussed, the butler remained cold and stiff.
Naturally so—he was loyal to Rivenia’s stepmother, the Countess of Priscillin.
Eight years ago, after Rivenia’s biological mother passed away, the new countess had changed everything about the household—from the head butler to the stablehands.
Rivenia’s father, Count Priscillin, had fallen hopelessly in love with his beautiful new wife. Since then, he treated his daughter from his previous marriage like a nuisance, doting only on the son he had with the countess.
Rivenia didn’t particularly care. She’d never thought much of her father to begin with. Their disgraceful behavior only made her chuckle, not despair.
She would have to leave the house one day anyway—sold off in a political marriage. What use was affection?
The butler led Rivenia to the parlor.
Inside, the count and countess sat together, chatting idly. Upon seeing her, they coughed awkwardly.
“You’ve returned.”
Rivenia stepped in smoothly and spoke.
“It’s not customary to receive a family member in the parlor.”
“Well, these days—”
“That’s a custom from the Kivan Kingdom. Even if cultural exchange has increased recently, it’s still unwise to adopt foreign etiquette blindly.”
“Rivenia, it’s been so long since we saw each other, yet you greet us with scolding.”
“Scolding? Don’t flatter yourselves. I’m pointing out your rudeness, Father.”
Her tone was icy, so different from the warmth she showed the maids. The count and countess frowned briefly, then quickly forced amiable smiles.
Rivenia scoffed and took a seat on the sofa.
“I take it you want something from me?”
They wouldn’t have summoned her otherwise.
She hadn’t even expected them to know about her graduation, yet they’d sent a nice carriage and offered high-grade tea? Suspicious.
“Don’t be in such a hurry. At least have some tea.”
“No thanks. I’d prefer to get this over with. I’ve just spent three straight days in a carriage.”
The countess laughed daintily and chimed in.
“Darling, didn’t we send her the best carriage we had? Can’t you spare a little time for your parents?”
Rivenia sighed. How long were they going to stall?
When she reached for her forehead, ready to get up, Count Priscillin jumped up and pushed her back into her seat.
“Rivenia, listen to me. You’ve received many marriage proposals! From very prominent families—two, in fact!”
“Marriage proposals…”
Rivenia echoed flatly.
At sixteen, it wouldn’t have been strange for her to dream of love and marriage.
Perhaps she would have—if her father had shown her dying mother a shred of compassion. But instead, Rivenia had learned early on: Marriage is a business.
That didn’t mean she wouldn’t get married.
Even if she graduated top of her class, a noblewoman couldn’t work in the palace or even a local merchant guild.
Marriage was the only way out of this suffocating house.
“Go on. Let’s hear it.”
“Well, first there’s the Marquis Camille—”
“That seventy-year-old man? He’s rich, yes. But you’re telling me to be a doll for a few years, then get tossed aside? What’s the next option?”
Rivenia had no intention of speaking gently.
They wanted to use her as a bargaining chip—surely, they wouldn’t kill her for it.
Normally, Count Priscillin would’ve smashed a teacup by now, but today he just flushed with rage.
“The next one is… well, the Duke of Baldwin’s family wants to form an alliance.”
“……What?”
Rivenia blinked in disbelief.
“The Duke’s family only has one son. I’m not marrying the dead duke or his widowed wife, am I?”
“Of course not. Your fiancé would be their son—”
“The eight-year-old?”
She stared at her father in disgust.
“You want me to become some degenerate who marries a child?”
But Count Priscillin didn’t flinch.
“In noble society, marrying at eight isn’t unheard of.”
“That’s when both parties are children. I’m sixteen.”
“Eight years isn’t so bad! The Marquis of Rai married someone twenty years younger and is doing fine!”
“Yes, because his wife is over thirty. There’s a huge difference between marrying an adult and a child.”
Her reasoning was sound. But the count had had enough.
“Then go marry the seventy-year-old!”
The countess, however, was cleverer. She gently rubbed her husband’s shoulder and took over.
“Rivenia, darling. Listen to your mother. This marriage isn’t as terrible as you think. You know the previous Duke of Baldwin died in an accident, and their only son is just eight. The duchess is terribly ill—barely clinging to life.”
Trying to tug at her sympathy, Rivenia’s sharp eyes softened slightly.
‘For all her cleverness, she’s still a girl who misses her dead mother,’ the countess thought smugly, and pressed on.
“The duchess called me recently. She was so ill, yet she asked for you. She said you’re clever and kind, and she wants you to manage the household.”
Rivenia finally spoke.
“She’s worried about backlash if I come in as just a steward. But if I’m the duchess, I’ll have authority.”
“Exactly! And once the boy turns twenty, you’ll get a large sum of money. You can divorce then! So, this isn’t… anything improper, really. Hoho.”
Now Rivenia understood.
The count and countess were salivating over the duchess’s money. If Rivenia divorced and received a settlement, they thought they’d get a share.
Rivenia recalled meeting the duchess as a child. She had been close friends with Rivenia’s late mother, and they used to hold private tea parties once a year.
‘She was kind, proper, and always gentle with me.’
Even if Rivenia had graduated with top honors, could she truly manage a ducal estate?
The duchess must have trusted Rivenia because of her friendship with her mother.
Rivenia tapped her thigh, then made her decision.
“Alright. I’ll do it.”
She had no desire to waste her youth changing dresses and birthing children for some stranger.
‘She helped my mother when she was ill. I’ll repay that debt. And when the boy turns twenty, I’ll get my freedom.’
Once-divorced women live freer lives, or so they say.
“You’ve made the right choice. When the duke turns twenty, we’ll all enjoy great wealth!”
The countess subtly emphasized “we.” Rivenia lowered her eyes with feigned modesty.
“…Yes. I’ll wait until then.”
But I’m never coming back to this house.
Thus, on the day of her wedding, Rivenia met her little groom.
She worried he might cry or throw a tantrum about marrying someone eight years older.
But the boy—Heinrich Baldwin—was astonishingly mature for an eight-year-old. His pale face and sparkling ruby-red eyes were downright adorable.
Wearing a white veil, Rivenia bent low to exchange rings with him. Heinrich slid a ring onto her gloved finger, then cupped her hands and whispered into her ear.
“Wife, I’ll make sure you’re happy.”
Rivenia nearly screamed at the cuteness. Barely holding back her squeal, she grinned.
“Me too. I’ll make you happy.”
And in twelve years, for this sweet little groom’s future happiness—she vowed to divorce him.
But that vow crumbled in an instant.
“H-Heiny…”
Her breath was growing fainter. Her body wouldn’t move. Cold seeped in as she lay at the bottom of a cliff, the stench of death rising from the earth.
It had been eight years since the wedding. The day of Heinrich’s academy graduation.
On the way from the duchy to the academy, Rivenia’s carriage had crashed.
She wasn’t afraid to die.
“I will be graduating top of my class. Please come to the ceremony and make it a proud day.”
—Your husband, Heiny.
She just felt sorry.
Sorry that she couldn’t be there to celebrate Heinrich’s graduation.
