Episode 1:
Reunion (1)
The still-chilly spring breeze brushed harshly against her flushed cheeks. The moment she stepped down from the carriage, the stiffness in her back flared into unbearable pain.
Before her stood a small townhouse—old-fashioned yet worn down—its exterior overgrown with unkempt ivy. It was the Rodin estate in the capital, a place she had seen so often since childhood that she had grown sick of it… and yet, for some reason, it felt unfamiliar today.
“Let’s go inside, Rosalie. I’m too tired.”
Her older brother, Gérard, who had inherited the title of count from their father who passed away two years ago, brushed aside fallen petals at the entrance with his foot as he spoke.
Beside him stood the heir of the Malev County, born around this time last year, along with the nurse holding the baby.
“Let’s go in first, dear. Rosalie must have a lot on her mind too.”
“Don’t take too long! The capital is a dangerous place.”
Rosalie smiled faintly at the warm voice of her sister-in-law calling her affectionately. The woman was clearly doing her best to be considerate.
Once Gérard, his wife, the baby, and the nurse left, Rosalie was finally able to indulge in the feeling of isolation.
It felt as though the world was mocking her. Somehow, it seemed like her life had already come to an end.
But this wasn’t a new feeling. In truth, her happiness had ended ten years ago.
Back then, she used to ease her depression and frustration by shopping for diamond necklaces. Those foolish, carefree days—how much she missed them.
Of course, now even a single meal at a fine restaurant was an unbearable luxury, let alone jewelry.
“I hate this… I really do.”
At twenty-nine, her melancholy was no longer sweet. The swelling flower buds and the chirping birds perched on branches were almost unbearable.
As she climbed the low steps, rubbing her heated eyelids, she tried to sink into a moment of quiet reflection.
With the help of a maid, she unpacked and changed her clothes. When she came downstairs, the count and countess were sitting on an old sofa, sipping warmed liquor.
The baby seemed to have been taken away by the nurse. Hearing the creaking stairs, her sister-in-law Angela turned to look at her.
“Welcome. I was just reading a letter from Countess Alua.”
Angela said this with a gentle smile. Gérard, arms crossed, leaned against her and nodded off, clearly exhausted from the long journey.
Angela herself looked half-asleep, but she still seemed determined to care for her husband’s younger sister, who was being forced into marriage due to the family’s circumstances.
“…What does it say?”
“She says you should rest for a couple of days to recover from the journey, and then attend the ball this weekend.”
“Only two days? I haven’t even prepared a dress yet.”
“She already contacted the most popular boutique in Rodin. She said we both know our financial situation isn’t great, so we shouldn’t feel burdened.”
“Hah… that woman really has a way with words.”
Even a noble family on the verge of bankruptcy still had its pride. Angela gave a bitter smile, and Rosalie glared at the peeling fireplace.
In early spring, the indoors—untouched by sunlight—felt colder than outside. It would have been nice to light a fire and warm their weary bodies, but they couldn’t.
They had to save even such small expenses.
Money. Money. Money.
Money!
The Malev family had none.
They had never been particularly wealthy, but things had never been as dire as in the past two or three years.
Their father, who had lived his life as a proud noble, always complained that they could not enjoy a lifestyle befitting their status.
He wanted Rosalie adorned in dazzling jewels and extravagant dresses, and Gérard to ride a magnificent white horse across the hunting grounds.
Then, he decided to invest in a war in a neighboring country. Something related to the arms industry—though even now, Rosalie didn’t fully understand what that meant. Perhaps even her father hadn’t.
The result was disastrous. He collapsed from the shock and never recovered.
After the funeral, Gérard inherited the title. He was a gentleman who enjoyed hunting and reading—not an ambitious or shrewd man.
Angela’s family couldn’t help either—they too had suffered investment losses and barely recovered their funds.
On top of that, Gérard and Angela had a newborn baby… and Rosalie, who was long past the ideal marriage age.
Then, last autumn, just as the social season ended, Countess Alua—niece of the former king—proposed a marriage.
“I’m sorry, Rosalie. If you don’t want this, you don’t have to go through with it.”
“But if I don’t marry, we’ll be buried in debt forever. And little Theo won’t even receive a proper education.”
Rosalie sighed. All winter, back at their estate, she had agonized over the decision.
Marriage among nobles rarely began with love.
She knew that. And yet… shamefully, she had once experienced a passionate love.
Her first love—ruined cruelly due to differences in status and fierce family opposition.
Even now, ten years later, she remained unmarried because of it.
And now, there was only one way she could help her family:
A political marriage.
Countess Alua wanted to pair her with her only son—a man avoided by all in the capital’s social circles.
The reward was obvious. The Malev family could clear its debts, rid themselves of troublesome Rosalie, and even gain ties to royalty.
“…Still, I don’t want to see you unhappy. I want you to be happy.”
“You never know. Who says I’ll be unhappy?”
Countess Alua was famously overprotective of her son.
It was said that he had been normal at birth, but after a sudden illness, he began limping and his intelligence regressed to that of a child.
Still, as a member of a royal bloodline known for its beauty, his appearance was exceptional.
Rosalie remembered him.
Jeremy Alua.
At the age of twenty, in front of countless nobles, he had wet himself at a ball and burst into loud tears, causing a scene before being escorted out.
No one had seen him since.
At the time, Rosalie had been too heartbroken to care. But many had mocked him.
“It’s late. I should go to bed. You should rest too.”
She set down her glass and stood up. Angela would likely stay behind with Gérard for a quiet moment together.
“Yes, see you tomorrow. If we’re both feeling better, let’s visit the boutique.”
“Alright… though I don’t like wearing a dress bought with her money.”
Half joking, half serious, she headed to her bedroom.
The hallway, dark and cold to save on oil, felt empty—made worse by the reduced number of servants.
“…Was this house always this lonely?”
Just a few years ago, it had been lively.
Guests visiting her father, maids bustling about…
Gérard, during his courtship with Angela, would bring sweet chocolate cake late at night.
“…The moon is out.”
She murmured, looking out the window before lying down.
If her sacrifice could change everything… if they could return to their former life…
Then perhaps being known as “the wife of that pathetic, foolish, bed-wetting Jeremy Alua” was a price worth paying.
Or perhaps… he would be the one unwilling—to marry a woman who once ran away with a common painter.
The pale, silver moon hung in the dark sky.
Lonely and cold.
Just like the man she had fallen in love with at first sight, ten years ago.
