Chapter 7
Then she met a pair of warm green eyes smiling at her.
“I hope this helps, even a little.”
It was the young priest who had earlier offered Erica a warm cup of tea.
“P-Priest?”
He was draping the outer robe of his priest’s uniform over the girl.
“It would be best if you kept it on, even just for a short while.”
“N-no! If I wear this, what about you, sir? I feel bad… I’ll return it right away.”
Erica shook her head in flustered panic and reached to take the robe off. But just then, the young priest’s lips curved into a soft smile.
“I’m fine. Please don’t decline. There are many who would worry if the young lady caught a cold. If you really feel guilty, why not return it once we’re inside? I’m strong enough to manage without it.”
His gentle eyes curved again as he smiled kindly. Erica found herself momentarily transfixed.
‘…He’s so kind.’
It was the first time anyone had shown her such care, and it made her heart flutter strangely.
Erica’s hand stopped as she was about to take off the robe.
Refusing any further would be impolite. Besides, she’d been taught that real noble ladies didn’t feel uncomfortable receiving kindness—they accepted it naturally. One gesture of humility was enough.
“In that case, I’ll borrow it for a little while, with gratitude.”
“That would be my honor.”
As thanks, she gave him a short nod.
Just then—clap!—a sharp sound echoed.
It was the elder priest.
“Let us now proceed into the sanctuary.”
At his invitation, everyone nodded in agreement.
After all, both parties were running out of time.
Sebastian came to stand beside Erica.
He glanced at the robe draped over her shoulders, then looked away.
“Let’s go in.”
“…Yes, Your Grace.”
They did not hold hands, but the two began to walk in step together.
Inside the sanctuary, Erica promptly removed the robe and handed it back to the young priest.
“Thank you. It really kept me warm.”
“I was regretting not giving it to you sooner. I’m glad it helped.”
Smiling at him, Erica turned back to face forward.
This was where the wedding ceremony would soon take place, but the space was unusually cold.
There were no guests, and the decorations—flowers, drapery, and such—were all absent.
‘Maybe that’s why it feels even colder.’
Just as she shrank her shoulders, Sebastian stood beside her again and spoke quietly.
“Let’s begin. We need to finish quickly.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
His curt tone made Erica tense up as she responded.
Standing side by side at the podium, the two offered a prayer to the Lord.
“Do you vow to become husband and wife and be together always?”
Without much thought, both Sebastian and Erica replied in unison, “Yes.” It was a dry, emotionless answer.
The elder priest, hearing their response, brought out three sheets of paper—official documents to certify the marriage, all identical in content.
“Then, please sign the marriage certificate.”
“I swear.”
“I swear as well.”
Sebastian signed his name with a stylish flourish, while Erica wrote hers carefully, letter by letter.
She had been rigorously trained for this at the marquisate—to prevent any future suspicion.
Her handwriting resembled that of a child who had just learned how to write: neat, simple, and lacking any distinct personality or flair.
‘This should be enough.’
After signing all three sheets, the priest gathered them up promptly.
“These signed certificates will be sent to the Imperial Palace for official endorsement, and then copies will be sent to each of your families.”
Sebastian nodded in agreement first, followed a beat later by Erica.
“With this, the marriage of Sebastian Acliff and Erica Blanche is complete.”
The ceremony ended incredibly quickly.
That was because the most important and final ritual had been skipped.
In the Angelica Empire, the ritual of mingling blood symbolized two people becoming one soul. But since Sebastian and Erica were both minors, they could not perform it.
So, their families had agreed in advance that the ritual would be held separately after both had undergone their coming-of-age ceremonies.
“Now, if you’ll wait just a moment.”
The priest briefly stepped away.
At that moment, Sebastian murmured as if to himself.
“Unexpected.”
“Pardon? What is?”
Only Erica turned to look at him. His gaze, however, remained fixed straight ahead, as though nailed to the wall.
“I understand our side has its reasons, but I didn’t expect even the Marquis of Blanche to skip the ceremony.”
“Ah…”
Erica trailed off slightly.
“I heard she’s his only child, doted on immensely… Why wouldn’t such a father attend his only daughter’s wedding?”
“Ah… that’s…”
Because I’m not really his daughter.
Erica swallowed hard, saying nothing aloud.
But she couldn’t speak the truth, so she voiced the answer she had prepared in advance.
“My father… is currently unwell.”
At those words, Sebastian’s head turned slowly.
His sharp red eyes fixed on Erica.
“…The Marquis?”
He furrowed his brow and raised one eyebrow.
Erica nodded firmly, trying to sound convincing.
“Yes. He ate bad oysters recently and had severe dehydration…”
She felt a twinge of guilt for lying, but she had no choice. She had expected this question from the moment she learned she’d be meeting Sebastian. She had practiced her answer hundreds, even thousands of times.
“He wanted to attend… but I insisted he rest. I was too worried. F—Father was very disappointed too.”
She ended her rehearsed response and shut her lips tightly.
Lying didn’t suit her. If she said more, it would come out unnatural—and then she’d surely arouse suspicion.
Not just from Sebastian, but also from Bonpiju, watching from not too far behind.
Ever since taking on the role of the fake bride, Erica had been under constant observation by the head maid Bonpiju, acting on the marquis’s orders. And that would continue going forward.
‘I can’t give her any excuse to report me. I have to act carefully. Only then can I keep Mom safe.’
But she didn’t intend to keep lying forever.
She wasn’t a professional actor. Lies would eventually show. And if that happened, Sebastian—sharp as he was—would notice.
‘Then it’s only a matter of time before I’m exposed.’
That’s why Erica had already decided she would speak to Sebastian directly one day.
‘But not here. Not now. There are too many eyes watching.’
She would only pretend to be Erica Blanche for ten years. It felt like an eternity, but she had time.
‘There’ll be a chance to talk alone, eventually.’
So for now, she would stay silent.
After firming her resolve in secret, the girl cast a sideways glance at Sebastian.
He was still facing forward, seemingly deep in thought.
“The marquis is ill…”
With arms crossed, he tapped his forearm with his index finger, repeating the words.
He clearly found it hard to believe.
But he didn’t press further.
That was because the elder priest, who had briefly stepped away with the marriage documents, returned at that moment.
“Thank you for waiting.”
He held a tray in his hands. On it were two small silver cups.
The priest quietly placed them on the podium.
“Well then, only the final ritual remains.”
