Chapter 12: The Blood-Soaked Wedding
The Count realized something as he spoke to himself. There was a big twist from his original plan.
‘That child hasn’t arrived yet.’
Because of a sudden storm, the sea route between the Western and Central continents had been cut off. He had rushed someone’s journey that was originally planned to happen months later.
The true treasure of Count Grace. His one and only daughter. His real bloodline!
And the child who would eventually have everything.
‘She was supposed to arrive before the wedding.’
That didn’t please him, but it didn’t ruin the plan.
The Duke of Carniel was desperately trying to bite back. But even that would end up in the hands of his real treasure.
He would make it happen.
It was time to end the long, bitter grudge passed down from their ancestors.
“Haha, ahaha, hahaha!”
The Count’s eyes were bloodshot as he burst into laughter.
* * *
“My lady, is this really okay? A wedding dress should take over five months to prepare properly.”
Daisy asked with concern, tilting her head.
“Right… And there’s still no word from the Duke, is there?”
Laura, always careful, also looked at Eleanor with worry.
It made sense.
Even though this was a wedding between a Duke’s family and a Count’s family, everything felt sloppy.
No—just carelessly thrown together.
The dress wasn’t really custom-made. It was just a famous shop’s dress adjusted to fit Eleanor’s body.
As for the wedding ring, there had been no word from the Duke’s family, so they just chose the most expensive and flashy one randomly.
There was only one meeting at the Imperial Palace.
That was the only discussion before the wedding.
The Duke and Count had exchanged cold words. Among those were the details of the wedding.
Everything had been decided in that conversation.
The wedding preparations would take no more than three weeks.
The guest list would be extremely limited—nothing to celebrate.
The ceremony would be held in a small, quiet temple in the capital, officiated not by a high priest, but a regular priest.
The Duke’s demands were clearly an insult, treating them with disrespect.
So how did the Count respond?
‘He wasn’t easy either.’
The Count’s family had gained massive wealth through mining and trade.
On the other hand, the Duke’s house, while full of honor, had once faced financial trouble.
‘The dowry was just for appearance.’
Unlike past times when the Duke’s family received a massive dowry, this time was very different.
But for some reason, Kylus raised his eyebrows like he didn’t care.
‘All rights regarding the wedding process belong to the Count’s family.’
‘The Duke’s family will not be involved.’
As a result, Eleanor ended up having a wedding that even a fallen noble girl wouldn’t want.
Her kind maids worried that their lady might be hurt by it.
But there was no need for concern.
Eleanor just smiled.
‘A wedding? Who cares?’
Of course, it used to be different. Back then, she had dreams and hopes—and expectations that were too much for her place.
She had volunteered for the marriage before her father could make a sneaky move, and at some point, she started to feel excited.
Maybe that pale boy would recognize her.
Maybe if she held and protected him, he’d realize someday that she was the one who gave him that handkerchief.
She had been foolish.
People’s expectations were just emotions waiting to be crushed.
She had once stood alone at a wedding and made vows without a partner.
The Duke’s side had shown how terrible the marriage was with their cold, funeral-like expressions.
He never even wore the ring.
Deeply hurt, Eleanor kept that ring locked away for the rest of her life.
‘It won’t be any different this time. No—maybe it’s even worse than before.’
Looking at how Kylus hadn’t even contacted her once, she gave up any expectations.
‘As long as he cooperates, that’s enough.’
After the wedding, when she lived in the Duke’s house, she would prove her worth.
This was a different start from the past.
She and Kylus had agreed to this marriage for mutual benefit without any expectations.
‘What a perfect couple.’
Eleanor laughed bitterly and turned her eyes to the servants of the Count’s family, who had come to fear her words over the past month.
“What is it? Why are you just standing there and not bringing in the things?”
The hesitant servants replied awkwardly.
“B-but, my lady, the central storage room is already full with everything you bought…”
Ah. She must’ve bought a lot of dresses, accessories, and luxury goods just to show off to her father.
Eleanor smiled.
“So?”
“P-pardon?”
“What did my father say about me buying things?”
The Count’s family was overflowing with money, so this wouldn’t even make a dent.
‘Father, now that the marriage is set, I can buy what I want, right?
To overwhelm the poor and shabby Duke’s house, I need to be more glamorous, more beautiful, and more extravagant.’
Her father laughed. Go ahead, do as you wish.
That conversation had been disgusting, but she endured it for what she would eventually gain.
Eleanor, acting like an arrogant and spoiled young lady, ran her fingers through her silky hair.
“If not, what’s the problem?”
“Y-yes, my lady, it’s just…”
Since there was no dowry, she wanted to pretend to be reckless and get as much startup money as possible.
“Be quiet. Bring more catalogs! This time, I think I’ll buy furniture.
That old and gloomy Duke’s castle needs to be decorated with my furniture.
Father will like that too.”
Even her maids Laura and Daisy sighed, knowing she had her own reasons.
* * *
Three weeks passed in a flash.
“To… to honor this noble marriage, we give thanks…”
The priest looked like he might faint at any moment.
Eleanor, behind her wedding veil, wore a cold, bored expression.
Once again, she was the only one standing at the altar.
The Count looked furious, grinding his teeth.
And the Duke’s side?
‘Of course. She came dressed like that.’
Her mother-in-law had shown up.
She looked exactly the same as before—dressed all in black, full of hate, madness in her eyes, as if mourning her dead husband and son.
Even the noble guests seemed shocked and murmured at her appearance.
Only Eleanor was calm.
She had gone through this before.
The priest’s words were coming to an end.
“Now, under the blessing of the gods, we will hear the sacred vow…”
She would say her vows alone, put the ring on her own finger, and return to the Duke’s house without a reception.
That was the whole dry process of the marriage.
‘I even spent my wedding night alone in an empty bed, back then.’
This time, she was sure that man would show up.
From behind the veil, Eleanor’s eyes gleamed.
The suspicious man would definitely come to check if she had really been poisoned—maybe even with a blood test.
He might bring a dangerous magical contract, saying he’d do anything.
That wouldn’t be bad. She could finally make a real deal with him.
Just then—
Creeeaaak—
The old temple doors opened.
“…”
Eleanor didn’t turn around, but she could feel the air shift.
Something different from the past was happening.
Thud. Thud. Heavy footsteps approached.
And the smell of blood filled the air.
“You! How dare you—what is this outrage at a wedding?!”
The Count’s angry voice confirmed it.
It was really him.
‘Why…?’
Eleanor turned before she realized it.
Only then did she clearly see the scene.
Her shocked mother-in-law, barely standing.
People from the Duke’s family supported her.
Their reactions showed this wasn’t planned.
This was entirely his decision.
Eleanor’s eyes trembled.
“…Kylus.”
He wasn’t someone she was supposed to call by name, but it slipped out.
He was soaked in blood, like he had just fought a brutal battle, and for a moment, he looked like the boy she once knew.
Love, hate, anger, affection, bitterness—all mixed in that voice.
Kylus raised his eyebrow and stood in front of her.
Drip. Blood fell.
He looked once at the stunned priest, once at Eleanor, and once around the room.
Then, back at her.
He spoke.
“Even like this.”
He held out a blood-soaked hand. It was wearing a knight’s gauntlet, not bare.
“Even with hands covered in blood like this…”
It was a new kind of rudeness.
Eleanor couldn’t even laugh.
“Eleanor, you…”
His voice held a deadly warning, as if giving her one last chance.
“Will you marry me?”
