Chapter 4
Whatever.
The wedding night?
Just do it.
…Was that what I said?
Me?
“Aha, you chickened out. Everyone’s like that the first time. Just close your eyes and push him down!”
As soon as the dagger that had been tucked into my back was freed, it started babbling.
Push him down? Push who?
The Empire’s greatest Sword Master?
Taking the dagger out the moment I entered the bridal chamber was clearly a mistake.
Bridal chamber…
That frustrating word made me rub my forehead.
The wedding had happened in the blink of an eye.
Actually, calling it a wedding was generous.
A maid from the castle placed a flower crown on my head, and Amin, sipping from a keg of alcohol with an annoyed expression, slid the wedding ring onto my finger as the priest instructed.
And then—
“Now, to seal the union, the bride and groom will kiss—”
Amin, who had been standing crookedly, glared at the priest.
“I think I’ve played along enough. I’ve no intention of being today’s spectacle.”
Spectacle?
What exactly did he mean by that?
If even a kiss was a spectacle, did that mean he planned to skip the wedding night altogether?
Then why the hell am I here—
“Amin, you say? He’s handsome. Just my type. He’s got presence. Mmm? If those big hands of his grabbed me, I’d die happy.”
Are all swords this perverted?
And being handsome doesn’t mean I have to sleep with him!
Sure, I’d learned from the blacksmith uncles how to XX and XX and do XX, but still…
“Ugh… My ears are rotting… Where’d you learn that filthy stuff? No class. No elegance.”
What?
Was I wrong?
Do nobles go about their first night in a more refined manner?
‘But you’re hardly classy either,’ I thought.
Leaning against the fireplace, I began to tremble.
“You’ve got such a sweet face, but what’s with your mouth? Who even are you?”
The one who made you.
“What?”
Why were you in Diana Isla’s hands anyway?
I was genuinely curious.
This dagger had been lost during my five-year wandering.
“Wait, you’re that brat? That raspy little brat? Doesn’t look like you.”
Of course not. Would I still look the same? I’m Diana Isla now.
“Whoa, fate really pulled some strings for us, huh?”
This thing talks too much.
I didn’t know it was like this when I made it.
Still, thanks to its chatter, I managed to roughly grasp the situation between Diana Isla and Amin Wilhelm.
The Isla Marquisate had long been close to Valter.
The Marquis handled all of Valter’s dirty work. So when Valter ascended the throne, the Marquis naturally assumed his daughter would become Empress.
Diana Isla thought so too.
But Valter… that cunning bastard.
That sly, ruthless man wanted a wife with stronger backing. So he cast Diana aside.
In fact, he even devised the insane plan of marrying Diana—who loved him—to his own brother, Amin.
Whatever deal was struck between the Marquis and Valter, the marriage was finalized instantly, and neither Amin nor Diana could refuse.
Amin owed a massive war reparation to Valter after a defeat, and Diana was basically her father’s possession.
So, the only way Diana could think of to nullify the marriage—
Was to kill Amin with this dagger.
“Yeah, the lunatic had a lunatic plan.”
Judging from what the dagger said, Diana Isla really did seem crazy.
Valter was obviously a snake, yet she put her future in his hands?
Did she actually love him?
Love.
I didn’t believe in romantic love between men and women.
It was too fickle, too easily twisted.
Steel was more reliable.
Hard and unchanging.
“Anyway, you bought me to kill Amin.”
I set the chattering dagger down.
The noise vanished instantly.
So you only hear it when you’re touching it?
Then what was that with Gram?
“You came for me, Diana.”
Looking back, that voice was definitely Gram’s.
Gram.
It had spoken like it had been waiting for me.
Even when I hadn’t touched it.
Could the strength of a sword’s voice differ based on its power?
As I pondered this, I looked up.
A sword hanging above the fireplace caught my eye.
“……”
No way.
I bit my lip.
This… is here?
My heart began to pound wildly.
A broken-bladed sword came into view.
Even with its damaged form, I recognized it instantly.
It was Gram.
Not the Gram Valter held—but another Gram.
The Gram I made.
I had named my sword “Gram” in the hope that it would defeat that Gram.
In the hope that Valter’s Gram would vanish from the world completely.
My father’s masterpiece, and his greatest mistake.
I wanted it erased from the world entirely.
So I made my own Gram.
But after it lost to the other, I never thought I’d see it again—
Breathing heavily, I reached out.
The moment my fingers touched it—
I didn’t hear a voice.
What came instead—was memory.
Not Gram’s memory—but Diana Isla’s.
