Chapter 1. The Uninvited Guest
As befitting the renowned Ropero family, the wedding hall was adorned with all manner of rare and exquisite things.
Famous sculptures were on display, and the walls and ceilings were filled with glowing lights and lush, vibrant fresh flowers.
Many guests were captivated by the exotic blooms, rarely seen within the Empire.
The tables were set with gold-crafted utensils, candle holders, and ornate centerpieces adorned with fresh flowers.
‘It’s even more than the rumors said.’
Philia admired the scene inwardly as she took a seat in the most secluded corner of the guest section.
A few noble ladies who were already seated nearby cast her sidelong glances.
A face they had never seen before, dressed so plainly… They figured she must be a provincial noble who got lucky with an invitation and came to the capital for sightseeing. They quickly lost interest.
Unlike the other guests, who dressed themselves lavishly in extravagant dresses and accessories to flaunt their status and wealth, Philia wore a simple and modest outfit.
The only embellishment on her cream-colored dress was the pearl lace at the cuffs. Her face was barely visible beneath the bonnet covering her head.
The only thing that stood out even slightly was the small cage she held in her hands.
Covered in a white cloth, its contents were a mystery—but even that failed to pique the ladies’ curiosity.
Probably just some dull little pet, they thought, resuming their gossip.
“Have you heard? About Sir Peroson?”
At the mention of Sir Peroson, the noblewomen’s eyes sparkled with interest.
“How unfortunate. I heard he paid 5,000 marks.”
A lady in a yellow dress opened her fan and coyly covered her mouth. Her lips curved into a smug arc behind the fan.
“With the fine imposed by His Highness Lenos, the total came out to 5,500 marks for adopting a cat.”
Philia, who had been silently listening, joined in the conversation.
At the mention of 5,500 marks, the women’s eyes widened. One of them turned to Philia and asked,
“Wait, he was fined 500 marks?”
“His Highness is known to be strict. And it was a case of someone impersonating a beastkin.”
The absurd tale of Sir Peroson being tricked into adopting a cat for 5,000 marks by a slave trader had spread like wildfire through the capital.
The noblewomen stifled their laughter behind their hands.
Lately, raising pets had become a trend in the capital. They were treated like accessories—the rarer and more expensive, the better.
But the most coveted of all were beastkin.
Especially young ones not yet fully humanized. Their cute appearance was part of the charm, but more importantly, they were easier to train.
Untrained beastkin would not be loyal to their masters, and thus had little value as property.
Beastkin were considered royal property. From birth to adulthood, they were raised under imperial supervision. That meant they weren’t something just anyone could acquire.
Properly raised beastkin were typically gifted as diplomatic offerings or as rewards for great service to the Empire.
In short, owning one was a privilege reserved for the chosen few.
And of course, the more unattainable something is, the more people desire it.
With the pet trend growing rapidly in the capital, demand for beastkin surged.
Naturally, this led to the rise of illegal beastkin trade through unofficial channels.
But most of those, like Sir Peroson’s case, turned out to be scams.
“Oh my! It looks like it’s about to start.”
At someone’s exclamation, the ladies halted their gossip and turned to face the door.
At the same moment, the waiting orchestra began to play, and grand music filled the hall as the doors opened.
Under the lights, a man stepped in—none other than the groom, Rascal Ropero.
“Gasp…!”
As he appeared, gasps echoed through the hall.
It was said there wasn’t a single woman in the Empire who hadn’t once desired him.
His beauty was ethereal—perfectly symmetrical features, silver hair and eyes that shimmered like moonlight.
And that wasn’t all. He was the heir of the Ropero family, a house that had held the Empire’s top standing since its founding.
His mother, Lady Sophia, was of royal blood. Though her rank was low, Rascal held a legitimate claim to the imperial throne.
“I had my eye on him for our Clara… but I gave up, thinking it was hopeless. If I’d known, I would’ve at least tried.”
One noblewoman sighed bitterly, sipping her champagne as Rascal walked with elegance down the aisle.
“Wasn’t it the Pendantsen family?”
“Yes, I believe that’s the name.”
Their attention shifted to the bride, who was about to appear.
No one had expected a lady from a minor northern house to become Rascal’s bride.
“I hear she has no sense of etiquette whatsoever.”
“They say she was incredibly difficult to train.”
Eavesdropping intently, Philia abruptly asked,
“Have any of you actually seen her in person?”
The table fell silent. As unfamiliar as she was, they still had some wariness toward this unknown woman.
“I just wondered… To have captured Rascal’s heart, she must be quite the beauty, don’t you think?”
Philia quickly added.
“I haven’t seen her myself, but I heard she’s rather plain-looking.”
“I’ve heard that too. Not striking at all, apparently.”
Now that they were given a juicy bit of gossip to chew on, the ladies’ guards melted away, and they began trading rumors like secrets.
“Here she comes now.”
One of the ladies pointed to the doors. All eyes turned to look.
The doors opened, and the bride stepped in, clad in a dazzling white gown.
Countless beads sewn into the dress glittered under the lights.
People leaned forward, hoping to see more clearly.
Philia leaned in as well, trying to glimpse the bride’s face—but to no avail. It was hidden beneath a veil that covered her entire face.
She turned instead to look at Rascal, who was smiling warmly and reaching out his hand to the approaching bride.
In contrast, Philia’s crimson eyes were filled with contempt and rage.
Once, she had been fooled by that smile.
Once, she had dreamed of walking that very aisle with him.
But now… she wished for nothing more than to see him suffer.
And then—
A soldier hurriedly approached Rascal. He was one of the guards checking invitations at the entrance.
He whispered something into Rascal’s ear, and the smile vanished from Rascal’s face.
A chilling air spread around him, like moonlight turned to frost.
Abruptly, Rascal turned away from the bride and looked out at the guests.
Murmurs spread through the hall.
His gaze swept slowly across the crowd—until it stopped on Philia.
“Seize her.”
At his command, soldiers appeared from nowhere and rushed toward her.
Their sharp blades all pointed at her at once.
“Kyaaa!”
The noblewomen at her table screamed in shock. Some even fell from their chairs.
But—
Philia remained calm.
As if she had expected this, she sat straight and met Rascal’s eyes without flinching.
She clutched the cage in her hands tightly.
Rascal looked at her for a moment, then turned to the guests with a graceful smile.
“I apologize. It seems an uninvited guest has snuck in.”
He gave a courteous bow to the confused audience, who then all turned to stare at Philia.
The soldiers’ blades pressed closer to her neck.
The cold steel made her instinctively fearful, but she forced the emotion down.
She couldn’t afford to tremble in fear.
Instead, she raised her head and looked directly at Rascal as she spoke.
Her voice was steady and unwavering.
“Am I really an uninvited guest?”
Rascal’s brow twitched with displeasure.
“No, I’m not,” Philia continued, taking a step forward with poise. The soldiers moved with her, but none posed a threat.
She stared at Rascal for a moment, then said clearly:
“This is my wedding.”
Gasps spread through the hall.
Philia Pendunsen.
She was none other than the bride of this wedding.
Rascal’s eyes flickered with surprise.
Then—
“You’d best lower those swords.”
A new voice interrupted.
Someone was striding confidently into the hall.
A man whose every step carried grace and nobility.
Golden hair like sunlight, striking features—he instantly drew the gaze of all present.
The murmurs grew louder as guests began to recognize him.
But the man ignored them all and walked straight toward Rascal, head held high.
The soldiers hesitated, then lowered their swords.
At the same time, the man wrapped one arm gently around Philia and pulled her into his embrace.
“She is to be my companion. Perhaps you should show her proper respect?”
In his arms, Philia clutched his collar.
Memories of a past long gone surged like a storm through her mind.
