“This way.”
Cerulean guided me to the grandest fashion boutique in the capital. Inside, the air shimmered with luxury, adorned with an array of exquisite fabrics, vibrant garments displayed on mannequins with impeccable flair. The spacious interior radiated opulence.
The moment the door opened, dozens of awaiting staff bowed in unison.
“It is a great honor to receive your visit.”
“Oh.”
A soft gasp escaped me, taken aback by such an exaggerated welcome. Cerulean, ever the stoic, did not smile out of courtesy, nor did he acknowledge them. He simply stepped inside the atelier without a word.
A refined woman, evidently the manager, approached me with an elegant smile, her hair coiled gracefully atop her head.
“So this is the lady who will be wearing the dress.”
“Yes. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“May I ask how I should address you?”
She was a consummate professional. Though Cerulean had arrived with a woman she had never seen before, her expression revealed not a flicker of surprise.
‘I didn’t come here as a maid, but to have a dress tailored for me! Who would’ve thought a day like this would ever come?’
I had once posed as a maid, infiltrating a noble household on a covert investigative mission that lasted an entire month.
‘And now, I’m playing the role of a fiancée—something I never imagined doing.’
Since my target was in Loire, this situation was akin to another journalistic infiltration. Regardless, if I must play this role, I might as well play it well.
I smiled warmly and linked my arm with Cerulean’s. It was best to let a small rumor bloom before I faced Barinen.
“I’m this man’s fiancée.”
The manager clapped joyfully, her face beaming.
“Oh my, his fiancée? Congratulations!”
‘I can feel her gaze scanning me from head to toe.’
It’s rare for a congratulatory remark to feel intrusive, but her sparkling eyes clearly asked:
Which noble family do you belong to?
‘I’m not part of any noble family.’
Of course, I couldn’t say that out loud, so I simply offered a slightly awkward smile.
She treated me as though we were old friends, grabbing my arm as she spoke rapidly.
“Let’s take your measurements. Since the gentleman sent us the design in advance, I was curious to see who would wear it. No wonder—you’re tall, lovely, and carry an aristocratic air.”
“Oh? The design is already chosen?”
Wasn’t I supposed to pick something myself? Not that I’d know what to choose anyway.
The lady giggled gently at my question.
“But of course. We received detailed instructions. The fabric has already been secured. The dress must be ready by next week, correct?”
I glanced at Cerulean, who nodded calmly.
“I arranged the appointment in haste. I fear I may have caused some inconvenience.”
“Oh, not at all. Hohoho.”
She led me into a semi-enclosed room, curtained off for privacy, and asked me to undress down to my undergarments.
As I slowly followed her instructions, she suddenly burst into the room without warning.
“How is the gentleman in private?”
She whispered, wary of Cerulean overhearing, though her glimmering eyes sparkled with a curiosity that could be seen from miles away.
I smiled awkwardly. Despite the situation, perfect responses from gossip pages flitted through my mind.
Eventually, I chose one and said:
“…He’s very kind.”
The cold man who is warm only to his lover… Isn’t that the perfect fantasy?
But no sooner had the words left my mouth than her expression froze. As if her face shouted, “Don’t lie!”
‘Even I think that sounds fake.’
I forced a nervous smile.
‘If Cerulean heard me, would he be shocked? No, he’d probably just respond with that same indifferent coldness.’
His sculpted, elegant features flashed in my mind, and I suddenly wondered—what made me take his hand in the first place?
‘We held hands because we each have a goal. As long as we both understand that, we’ll get along fine. Honestly, I doubt he intends for this marriage to last.’
Most likely, he would politely request a divorce once he attained his dukedom.
‘And he’ll act like a gentleman about it, so there’s nothing to fear. At the very least, I can trust him in that regard.’
No matter how difficult the request, I could already imagine his detached reply: ‘As you wish.’
‘He isn’t a bad person.’
I lowered my gaze. When the thought of marriage crept in, my mother’s words echoed in my mind like shards of glass piercing my chest.
“When I was young, I thought love was everything. But falling for garbage isn’t worth it. Better to have a loveless marriage with someone dependable.”
She used to say this while patting my head and whispering:
“But my beautiful, clever daughter will meet a man who truly loves her and has a wonderful heart. Don’t give up on love just because your mother did, alright?”
‘But what should I do now, Mother? I think I’ve already failed in this mission.’
‘I doubt she ever imagined I’d enter a contractual marriage for the sake of investigative journalism.’
In fact, she probably never expected me to become a journalist at all.
As I moved my arms to accommodate the measuring tape wrapping around my body, the tailor laughed gently.
“Usually, young ladies come with their mothers to tailor dresses. But here you are with your fiancé—your love must be overwhelming.”
A subtle question, fishing for details of my background. But I, seasoned by the cunning of journalism, wasn’t fooled.
Lowering my eyes in feigned sorrow, I answered:
“I lost my mother recently. He accompanied me out of kindness.”
“Oh… I’m terribly sorry.”
Hearing of my mother’s passing, her chatter faded into silence. Thankfully, the rest of the measuring proceeded in peace.
She carefully measured my arms and thighs, then handed me a dress adorned with buttons.
“That’s all for the measurements. Please try this on.”
“What is it?”
“A romantic dress—perfect for a date. I prepared it just for you.”
“Oh…”
Well, I couldn’t exactly wander the capital in sleepwear forever.
‘But this feels a bit extravagant for a gift.’
At a glance, it was clearly a high-fashion piece—one that women would wear while parading with parasols.
‘Perhaps I should ask Cerulean to pay for it. I didn’t even bring a purse.’
But… how do I determine what expenses fall under his responsibility? Do my clothes count as part of our marriage budget?
As I hesitated, struggling to slide my arm through the sleeve, the lady smiled and said:
“I was asked to prepare twenty dresses. It felt only right to show a little appreciation.”
“Twenty dresses?!”
I had assumed they were only taking measurements because the designs were pre-selected—surely they wouldn’t let me choose.
‘Twenty? That’s a lot!’
I expressed my shock, but the lady was a seasoned merchant. She smoothly ignored my reaction.
“Perhaps you chose so many you don’t remember. Would you like to see the designs?”
“Oh, yes.”
“This is the main dress you’ll wear next week.”
She presented a design. It was a pale green gown with an extremely open neckline, voluminous sleeves, and a tightly cinched waist. A delicate pink ribbon was specified for the belt.
‘Is this his taste in clothing?’
Did he choose this himself? Or was he more fashion-conscious than I’d assumed?
I still didn’t know much about Cerulean, so all I could do was offer a sheepish smile.
As Cerulean had said, I was merely here to be measured, so we left the boutique shortly after.
I wore the dress the tailor had prepared, slipped on the shoes, and tied my hair up into a neat bun. Once outside, I whispered:
“Did you really order twenty dresses?”
Cerulean blinked slowly, as if it were nothing.
“Even a hundred wouldn’t be enough.”
“What could you possibly do with so many?”
Given the peculiar nature of our marriage, there would likely be no engagement party. I was a commoner, after all, and Princess Barinen was still alive—so I wouldn’t be making many public appearances.
‘Meaning those twenty dresses might go unused before they even go out of style!’
Still, I couldn’t entirely blame him. I didn’t even own the bare minimum attire for any social event.
‘I just hope he won’t demand reimbursement after the divorce. Let’s call them pretty memories.’
I was thinking this when Cerulean tilted his head and asked curiously:
“Is that too many? Compared to the duchess, I thought it was too few.”
“That’s because she lives for that stuff. I, on the other hand, enjoy wearing comfortable clothes and eating slow-cooked meat. Dresses restrict and irritate me.”
The duchess was born a princess—of course she was used to flaunting gowns and jewels.
Anyway, after the whirlwind of the morning, I began to feel hungry.
I tugged gently on Cerulean’s sleeve and said:
“On that note, did you find us a good restaurant? I feel like I might faint from hunger.”
“How strange.”
He stared at my fingers clutching his robe, then took my hand and placed it on his arm. I was startled—and immediately blushed a deep crimson.
As promised, the restaurant he chose served a delightful breakfast.
‘Wow, it’s rare to find a place that serves shepherd’s pie in the morning these days.’
When I cut into the crust, rich meat juices oozed out. I twirled the molten cheese around it and brought it to my lips. My eyes widened in delight.
‘Oh my god. This is delicious.’
I ate with joy, my mood lifting with every bite.
I glanced at Cerulean to see what he was having—but in front of him sat only a glass of warm water.
‘Did he eat beforehand?’
He seemed sensitive to smells, so perhaps he preferred water to tea.
‘Still, this food is too good to pass up. It’s a shame he went to the trouble of finding this place and isn’t eating.’
As I tilted my head in quiet wonder, Cerulean intertwined his fingers, lowered his gaze, and said:
“…I heard you recently lost your mother. Please accept my condolences.”
His words caught me completely off guard. We had spoken those words behind a thin screen for just a moment—and yet, he had heard everything.
