LI | Chapter 001

Chapter 001

“Sister, have you heard the latest news?”

It was the afternoon of a day when rain poured heavily.

As usual, Hazel was seated by the window, reading a book, while her younger sister, Charlotte, who rarely stayed home, lounged lazily on the bed.

“No.”

Hazel replied coldly without lifting her eyes from the book.

“As I expected, I knew you wouldn’t know. Honestly, what would you do without me, Sister? Come here, I’ll tell you.”

Charlotte suddenly sprang up from her bed and sat upright, patting the bed repeatedly with her hand as she called for Hazel.

“No, thank you.”

Hazel refused immediately; her younger sister’s stories were familiar and repetitive.

Especially during the social season in Westin, when warm and clear days stretched long, a rainy day like this—perfect for reading—was rare.

So, Hazel had to read now.

She had already reached the climax of the story.

Hazel had arrived at the moment when Lady Giovanni, enraged by her husband’s betrayal, hesitated over whether to pour hot water on Mr. Giovanni’s sensitive area or not.

“Sister!”

Charlotte suddenly snatched the book from Hazel’s hands.

Hazel stared at her empty hands with shocked eyes.

“That was an important moment!”

It was the moment that would determine whether the book was a mere trivial work or a literary masterpiece.

‘Lady Giovanni’s Secret?’

Charlotte, who had seen Hazel leap from bed as soon as she noticed the rainy weather that morning, skipping breakfast to read, was extremely curious about the book that had consumed her sister all day.

She had thought it was a great work since Hazel ignored her questions and was engrossed in it, but it turned out to be just one of those novels Hazel always read.

“Reading these novels won’t do you any good.”

Hazel reached out to retrieve the book, but her attempt failed miserably.

Charlotte, who knew Hazel as well as she knew herself, swiftly raised her hand high in a flash.

Hazel sighed deeply.

It seemed she wouldn’t get her book back peacefully unless she listened to what Charlotte had to say.

Leaning against the wall, Hazel asked:

“Do me good in what?”

Charlotte hugged the book tightly and squeezed herself into the empty space beside Hazel on the wide window ledge—Hazel’s private reading spot, which felt a bit cramped for two people.

“Sister, do you remember? When we were little, this spot seemed so spacious. We used to sit facing each other like~”

Charlotte was like a bouncy ball whose path couldn’t be predicted. So was her conversation. The topic had already shifted three times: from the gossip, to the book, then to childhood memories.

Fearing she’d be dragged around by Charlotte all day if she let this continue, Hazel interrupted her flood of memories at the right moment:

“We’ve grown up. If the window ledge still felt as spacious as it did back then, we’d need to visit a doctor for stunted growth. So, what do you want to discuss with me? The gossip? Or the book?”

“Everything!”

Charlotte’s eyes sparkled with excitement.

Charlotte was like a round ball.

Her face, her eyes, her mouth—all were round.

Not because she was plump, but because her gentle features exuded an endearing charm.

Her personality was round, too.

Charlotte easily brushed off negative things, rejoiced greatly over the smallest matters, and didn’t know how to hate or resent anyone.

Hazel loved her younger sister, who was different from her in every way.

So, when Charlotte’s round eyes filled with expectation, a strange sense of duty sprouted in Hazel’s heart to meet those expectations.

Even if it meant a slight change to her routine or regretting later when Charlotte pulled her along with the threads of conversation as she pleased, Hazel could only surrender.

And so it was this time.

Hazel sighed deeply, then looked into Charlotte’s eyes and said:

“Go ahead, speak.”

“You’ll listen to me?”

Charlotte tossed the book onto the nearby table and hugged Hazel’s arm.

“Yes, I’ll listen to everything.”

Charlotte’s eyes narrowed with suspicion, but they quickly lit up with enthusiasm.

If Hazel wasn’t ready to listen, she would have rushed to the book from the start, but her older sister remained firmly seated on the window ledge.

“Well, Sister, the rumor is that the kingdom’s most famous bachelor is returning to Westin soon!”

Another story about high society.

Hazel, starting to feel bored, nearly yawned but restrained herself and asked:

“And who might that be?”

“It’s…”

* * *

“Theodore.”

Theodore Caron Bernier, the man considered the most famous bachelor, turned when his close friend called his name.

At that moment, the clouds parted, and sunlight streamed through the window, settling on Theodore’s face as he sat nearby.

His face, radiant even in stillness, shone even more under the sunlight, almost as if it were glowing.

For a moment, his friend—also a man—felt a pang of jealousy toward him. His pride was wounded, and he frowned deeply.

How could a man who had roamed battlefields have skin as smooth as a porcelain doll? Why were his jawlines so perfectly sculpted? His high nose, as if embracing the sky? And his lips… they seemed crafted to enchant women. Moderately full, forming a refreshing smile.

Theodore was flawless, without a single imperfection, but the crown of his beauty was his eyes.

Almond-shaped eyes, holding a captivating abyss in their depths, with calm gazes hiding a hint of mischief, framed by long, thick lashes that his sister wished she could have.

The gods were truly unfair.

Theodore’s friend, Macason, frowned even more.

“You called me and then went silent? Why the frown?”

Theodore smiled gently, ignoring that Macason had called him and then fallen quiet, and that he was frowning at him.

“I was cursing you in my mind.”

“Oh, I see. I’m too perfect, aren’t I?”

The attack Macason launched, after mustering his resolve, didn’t harm Theodore in the slightest.

Not because it was weak, but because of Theodore’s nature.

Theodore was loved by everyone—young and old, men and women—not just for his beauty but because he was kind and approachable to all.

“And you have a perfect personality, too.”

The irritation that had risen to Macason’s throat suddenly flared and then faded.

Even jealousy required a level playing field.

Macason himself wasn’t lacking, with a handsome face and a prestigious baronial family backing him, but he wasn’t on Theodore’s level.

“The more I think about it, the more I realize the gods are even more unfair.”

Macason impulsively threw a cushion that was beside him.

Theodore caught it with his hand and calmly set it aside. He wasn’t interested in responding to his friend’s random bouts of jealousy.

Theodore wasn’t greatly affected by others’ emotions. No matter what was said, his beauty remained an unchanging fact, and he had long grown accustomed to envy and jealousy.

Theodore picked up an apple from the nearby table, tossed it high, caught it, and then threw it to Macason.

Macason fumbled and nearly dropped it before barely catching it.

“Consider it a response to the cushion.”

“Your manners—!”

“Charming, aren’t they? I know.”

Macason’s blood boiled.

Theodore wasn’t wrong about anything, but something about him sparked anger.

It wasn’t his awareness of his beauty that was the problem, but the effortless nonchalance he displayed no matter what others did.

His disposition was undoubtedly good.

He wasn’t demanding except when it came to what he ate, wore, or used. But from another perspective, that meant he didn’t care about anything else.

Theodore was a selfish person.

“Enough. Anger will only increase my gray hairs.”

“What? Are you already getting gray hairs? That’s way too early! We’re only twenty-nine. Shouldn’t you take better care of yourself?”

“Idiot, I’m joking! Don’t you get jokes?”

Macason bristled, and Theodore shrugged.

“If you’re done fooling around, tell me why you’re here.”

Theodore said what he’d wanted to say from the start.

He wanted to know why Macason, who had spent the previous night at a party until dawn, had come before even recovering from his drunkenness.

He himself was tired after a night at the gentlemen’s club playing billiards, though his face didn’t betray it.

“My mother’s gone mad. She’s asking if you’re getting married this year?”

“Hmm, the Baroness?”

“Do I have another mother? She suddenly started talking about every family with a daughter of marriageable age to arrange a meeting for you, and she’s dragged me into it, too.”

The interest of mothers with marriageable daughters in Theodore was immense.

Theodore Caron Bernier, the talented man and the kingdom’s most famous bachelor, was a target they all raced to claim.

“Marriage… marriage…”

The playfulness vanished from Theodore’s face.

His expression turned stern, cold, and majestic.

Macason grew serious in turn.

“Theodore, have you really returned to get married?”

Theodore slowly turned his head to look at Macason, then finally opened his mouth.

But what came out wasn’t the answer Macason expected.

“Something like that.”

“What?”

“Marriage—I’m thinking of trying something like it.”

Macason muttered, furrowing his brows in confusion.

If it was marriage, it would be marriage. What did he mean by something like it? What kind of madness was this?