Chapter 03
The rosy illusion shattered with a single remark from Luther.
“Just read a novel.”
A heartless man with no blood or tears! Cordelia glared at him as if to shout that at the top of her lungs. Luther sighed and replied.
“You’ve just set your standards way too high, Author.”
“Isn’t it natural for someone like me to have high standards?”
It wasn’t even annoying how confidently she said it—probably because it was true. Luther constantly reminded himself that the woman boldly talking in front of him was a direct descendant of the most powerful noble family in the kingdom.
And her beauty? After seeing her for more than ten years, he still felt a little tense every time she took off her hat. It was inevitable that her standards were sky-high.
The problem was, someone who had no need to earn money wasn’t likely to cough up a manuscript no matter how much he nagged. Still, while she was a high-ranking noble and a popular author, her easygoing personality made her pleasant company—except at times like these.
Luther gave her a gentle, almost fatherly look.
“So, when are you planning on actually getting married?”
“What does it matter? I don’t have to.”
Cordelia slouched lazily on the sofa, grumbling with gusto.
“Rick’s nagging has gotten worse lately, but what do I care? You can’t even joke with that man. He was being so noisy that I told him I’d consider marriage if he brought me a groom twelve years younger than me. And guess what? He actually brought me a portrait. Has he gone mad?!”
Luther could only give an awkward smile, unable to even nod as Cordelia shamelessly badmouthed her older brother—none other than Duke Vaitzen, the most powerful man in the country.
“He’s just worried about you. You’ve already missed the ideal age for marriage by quite a bit.”
“I have an older sister who’s still single! Honestly, people just get married too early. Choosing a life partner you’re supposed to live with forever—shouldn’t that be a decision made carefully instead of being forced when you’re too young?”
But, my lady, you’re almost thirty…
Luther kept his lips sealed, holding back the truth. Cordelia prattled on.
“Of course, you might fall in love even in a political marriage. But I just don’t want to marry like that. My brother will inherit the family title anyway, so why waste an expensive dowry on me?”
Marrying for family interests was common among nobles, but Cordelia wasn’t the only unmarried one in her family. Her second sister, Jerania, was married, but Kallia—like Cordelia—was still single.
Then why, of all people, did they only pester her? Cordelia ground her teeth.
“And most importantly.”
“Most importantly?”
“…His face wasn’t my type.”
She couldn’t bring herself to insult an innocent man, but honestly—he wasn’t her type. For one thing, he looked way older than sixteen, with strong, rugged features.
Put nicely, he looked manly. Put bluntly, he looked rough.
Handsome, yes—but Cordelia preferred refined, almost delicate beauty. Broad shoulders and a strong physique were fine, but the voice had to be gentle for the whole package.
Of course, she didn’t broadcast this preference everywhere. She knew the value of propriety.
Especially since portraits usually made people look better. What did he look like in person if that was the prettied-up version?
“Honestly, when I’m this pretty, isn’t it only fair that my partner be just as handsome?”
Cordelia’s blue eyes sparkled with well-founded confidence.
She was indeed beautiful—and surrounded by so many good-looking men that her standards had soared sky-high. The problem was, the men whose looks she admired were all just friends.
‘But what’s wrong with things the way they are? Do I have to date them?’
That was what Cordelia always said when asked. Her sister Kallia would just stare quietly at her before concluding:
‘You don’t want to fall in love—you just like the idea of dating someone.’
‘Isn’t that the same thing?’
‘…The fact that you write romance novels is the biggest mystery of my life.’
Cordelia expressed her displeasure by spearing a fork into Kallia’s cake and stealing it. While Cordelia munched aggressively on the strawberry-topped dessert, Kallia calmly sipped her tea and said:
‘If you’re that curious, ask Jerania. She and His Majesty have such a good relationship.’
Jerania, another of Cordelia’s sisters, had married the crown prince and was now queen, living a busy life. Cordelia shook her head without hesitation.
‘She’d never tell me that sort of thing. And even if she didn’t want to talk about it, why force her?’
‘At least you’re not completely thoughtless, then.’
‘What was that?!’
Kallia just refilled her little sister’s teacup. Cordelia pouted but drank up, swallowing her complaints with the fragrant tea.
She had tried meeting people, believing her destined partner would show up someday, but honestly, she was starting to feel…empty.
Maybe that kind of thing really only happened in novels. Or maybe she just wasn’t lucky enough.
“Dating is so hard…”
In novels, it all seemed so easy. Muttering gloomily, Cordelia accepted Luther’s mild comfort.
“Perhaps the time simply hasn’t come yet. Why not wait a little longer?”
“Really?”
Probably. With a sigh, Cordelia took a sip of her cooling tea.
It smelled so nice.
After meeting Luther and his daughter, Cordelia returned home and shut herself in her room. She had gone out partly to change her mood after running into someone unpleasant at the party, but now her deadline loomed dangerously close.
After a long bath, she came back to find her red-haired maid, Rosa, waiting.
“My lady, Count Nelson just called on you.”
Cordelia frowned so sharply it almost seemed elegant, and Rosa marveled at her beauty all over again.
“I told you to send away any man who comes looking for me, Rosa.”
“Yes, I did, but…he refuses to leave. Says he won’t go without seeing your face.”
“He’ll give up soon enough. Poor thing.”
She glanced at the window. It wasn’t evening yet, but the sky was already gloomy. Cordelia added dryly:
“I’ll bet you a kenni he leaves within three hours—it’s going to rain.”
With that generous wager of a silver coin, Cordelia sat at her vanity while Rosa skillfully arranged her hair. Rosa tried to make small talk, but Cordelia only sank deeper into gloom.
“At this rate, even Rick’s starting to look handsome to me…”
Rosa bit her tongue, though she wanted to say that Duke Vaitzen was objectively good-looking. Considering Cordelia’s lowest standard of beauty was Duke Gracia, it made sense.
Liam Gracia, Duke of Gracia, was a celebrity in his own right—one of only two dukes in the kingdom. With his solid build, broad shoulders, handsome face, and exceptional swordsmanship, he was also famously devoted to his wife. The love story between him and the current duchess was legendary.
Even Rosa had been momentarily mesmerized the last time she saw him, despite knowing he was taken.
It was a wonder Cordelia had never had a scandal with such a man. Cordelia dismissed their relationship with: “Sure, he’s handsome—but insufferably arrogant.”
‘Well, you only keep impossibly handsome men as friends…’
And handsome men rarely come without attitude. Frankly, it was astonishing they acted so high and mighty even after seeing Cordelia’s qualifications.
Not only was she stunningly beautiful, she was the youngest sister of a duke—and sister-in-law to the queen. Any man should be groveling to please her. Rosa clicked her tongue inwardly.
In the end, after serving Cordelia for so long, Rosa’s loyalty was firmly on her side.
“You’ll meet someone better soon.”
“You think so? Probably.”
Cordelia smiled faintly, though that wasn’t her only worry. Rosa hoped, sincerely, that someone worthy of her lovely lady would appear.
As expected, Edward left once it started raining.
The weather was a factor, but his pride must have been hurt too. If he truly wanted to apologize and talk things out, he would’ve written a letter—not shown up in person. Coming himself meant he thought he could sway her more effectively face-to-face.
Having met more than enough men, Cordelia had become adept at reading these patterns. How had things come to this…?
“Ugh, whatever.”
She tossed her quill down in frustration. Her desk was littered with scribbled pages, with crumpled sheets rolling across the floor.
Cordelia stared blankly at them. She’d have to burn them all before bed. If Rick ever found out she wrote, it’d be the end of her. Her other sisters would cheer her on, but that man never would.
Just thinking of her brother, who had inherited their father’s old-fashioned streak in spades, made her shudder. Sometimes she hated having to use a male pen name. Why did people make such a fuss over a woman writing?
“Seriously, think about it. There’s no way a man could write a romance that actually makes women’s hearts flutter!”
Why did noblewomen crave romance novels? Because most were forced into political marriages at a young age, leaving them with little chance to feel excitement.
If reality couldn’t provide butterflies, they sought secondhand thrills.
“And they treat it like it’s some forbidden thing.”
Muttering, Cordelia locked the papers in a drawer, hung the key around her neck, and carried a candle to her bed.
She blew out the flame on her nightstand, plunging the room into darkness, then drew the bed curtains tight until she couldn’t see an inch ahead.
Feeling for the blankets, she lay down neatly and whispered the same wish she always did:
Please, dear God. Next time, let me meet a man who’s insanely handsome, strong, sweet, and only has eyes for me…
Even after all her romantic failures, Cordelia refused to give up hope. Outside, the wind rattled the window as if mocking her prayer.
Unaware, she closed her eyes and drifted to sleep.
Chirp, chirp. Birds pecked at her ears with their song. Sunlight bombarded her face, and Cordelia opened her eyes groggily.
“Ugh…”
Her voice sounded deeper than usual, though she didn’t notice as she rubbed her eyes gently.
“Who opened the bed curtains…?”
She always insisted on heavy curtains to sleep well. The bright sunlight felt strange.
A low voice reverberated in her head as she blinked drowsily—and finally sensed something was off. She shifted on the bed, then slowly sat up.
Huh?
“My view feels…higher than usual…”
She stood absently and scanned the room—then froze. A plain ceiling. A small desk. A single chair. A wardrobe in the corner. That was all.
This wasn’t her room.
“What is going on…?”
Even her voice sounded odd. It was much deeper than hers had ever been—though pleasant to the ear, it wasn’t familiar.
She pushed back her bangs in frustration—and realized her hair was jet black. Panic surged.
Had someone cursed her? Some jealous witch turned her ugly out of spite?
Reeling in dramatic scenarios like an author, she stumbled toward the mirror by the desk. Eyes squeezed shut, then one cracked open cautiously.
And she nearly fainted.
“What…what is this?”
This couldn’t be real.
Instead of her familiar pretty face, a tall man stared back from the mirror. Jet-black hair, blue eyes, delicate yet striking features—and a broad chest and strong arms.
Holy crap. Cordelia blurted out without thinking:
“…He’s gorgeous.”
Her ideal type was staring back at her.
