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CHAPTER 08
In some ways, Satin’s parents had been right. Three days were far too short to cancel a wedding that had already been widely announced.
The sheer will of those forcing the ceremony forward was like an unyielding stone wall. With no one on her side, Satin simply didn’t have the strength to resist.
And just like that, the wedding day arrived in the blink of an eye.
Satin woke early that morning with a heavy heart. Even as she slipped into the carefully chosen dress and sat for her makeup, not a hint of joy stirred within her. Who was she even dressing up for?
“Miss, please smile.”
She sat stone-faced, and the maid holding the brush looked flustered.
Satin forced a smile. The maid quickly dabbed powder on her cheeks, tinting them a soft pink.
Lari, fawning over how this was the most beautiful she had ever looked, didn’t even register in her ears. Compliments like that—weren’t they supposed to come from the groom?
And that very groom, who had kept his distance throughout the preparations, had brought his mistress into the picture at the last minute.
“Ugh, my head…”
A throb pulsed in her temple.
“Miss, are you feeling unwell?”
“…No.”
Satin stood up weakly. The ceremony hadn’t even begun yet, but the day already felt impossibly long.
Today, the chapel was more crowded than the opera house. Carriages carrying guests arrived one after another, lining up at the entrance. The seating arrangements she had painstakingly planned were steadily filling up.
Murmurs of unclear meaning swelled and receded like waves.
Satin sat in a waiting room near the entrance to the wedding aisle, trying to steady her pounding heart. She couldn’t hear the exact words, but she already knew the whispers that were spreading.
She would bet everything that every guest sitting there had heard the rumors about Giyorn and Delilah.
Who would’ve imagined the youngest son of the Selwio family—once solely devoted to his studies—would fall for an actress and take her as his mistress?
And yet, the wedding hadn’t been called off. That must mean the alliance between the two houses was stronger than expected—or maybe the bride had fallen for sweet lies. The guests were surely speculating along those lines.
Even Rubliè was seated in the very front row.
It was the seat with the best view of the bride and groom, chosen to reflect his family’s influence. But now, Satin wanted to slap her past self for assigning him that spot.
“I didn’t know then…”
‘Seems like the wedding plans are going smoothly?’
She still remembered how proudly she had nodded at his question before turning away.
She didn’t even want to imagine how ridiculous she must look to him now.
From the waiting room, she could only see the guests’ backs. But she spotted Rubliè immediately.
No one else had such a commanding physique or wore the Holy Knights’ dress uniform—more elegant than most ceremonial attire—with such effortless grace.
“Miss, the ceremony’s about to begin.”
Lari gave the cue. The attendants who would assist the bride throughout the event entered as well.
Satin gripped her bouquet tightly. Even if she planned to confront Giyorn once it was over, for now, she had to walk down the aisle as if nothing was wrong.
Every bride dreams of being the star of her wedding day.
And today, Satin was that star. She wore the most beautiful dress, held the most exquisite bouquet, and was adorned to perfection.
If she walked up the altar and exchanged vows before the cardinal, the wedding would unfold just as she’d once envisioned.
But why did the red carpet beneath her feet feel less like a path of blessings and more like a march into fire?
Then the solemn hymn announcing the entrance began to echo. The pure voices singing God’s blessings filled the chapel. Satin stepped forward, moving slowly with the music.
Giyorn stood midway down the aisle, waiting for her.
But he avoided her eyes. Subtly, but deliberately. It was the first time they had faced each other since Satin had stormed off after announcing the engagement was over.
And yet here they were—meeting again at the altar.
It was uncomfortable and awkward for both of them.
Satin kept her gaze forward, purposefully ignoring the groom. Instead, she became more aware of the guests’ faces.
They watched the bride and groom with thinly veiled curiosity. Whispering lips and strained smiles betrayed their amusement at the scandal.
She wanted to run.
To throw everything away and just run, seriously.
If complete strangers found this situation so entertaining, how must Rubliè feel? Watching Giyorn and Satin—insisting on going through with the wedding despite the scandal—must seem utterly foolish.
As she drew closer to the cardinal, she also approached Rubliè’s front-row seat. As she passed near him, Satin bit her lip.
She had resolved not to look at him—but the weight of his gaze burned at her side. She turned her head before she could stop herself, and their eyes met.
“…What?”
She had expected mockery, but Rubliè merely furrowed his brow. A trace of irritation showed on his face.
Why? Was it because the bride and groom were pretending to be fine in a wedding born of scandal?
Surely, he didn’t approve of the wedding itself. There was no way he didn’t understand that this whole ceremony was a political counter to House Dillon.
Satin took her place beside Giyorn in front of the cardinal. The wedding hymn soared toward its finale.
As the voices faded, a strange familiarity clung to Satin’s ears.
Though the singer’s tone was pure, like that of a child, something about the pronunciation and resonance struck her as eerily familiar.
She turned her gaze to the choir hidden behind a white curtain. From the sound alone, it could’ve been a teenager—but the shadow flickering behind the curtain was clearly an adult.
“…Excuse me.”
Her personal attendant, positioned to respond to any of her needs, stood right beside her.
Satin struggled to keep her voice from trembling.
“Could you draw the curtain? I’d like to see who’s singing the hymn.”
A strange request, but not an impossible one. The attendant approached the choir and pulled back the curtain.
For a brief moment, the perfect harmony wavered.
A noticeable mistake—one even the guests would catch.
Still, the singer quickly recovered and continued the hymn with practiced skill.
To recover so smoothly from an unexpected disruption—it could only be the mark of a prima donna.
Delilah. The one singing the wedding hymn… was Delilah.
Thank goodness her back was to the audience. Satin had no idea what kind of expression she was making right now.
Delilah and Giyorn exchanged glances. Their eyes spoke volumes.
It was almost tragic, the way they looked at each other—like doomed lovers, communicating silently in flickers of sorrow.
Regret. Pity. Discomfort.
Watching it unfold beside her made Satin feel like she was about to combust.
If they were the tragic lovers… then what was she? A background prop?
“What the hell is going on? Why is she singing the wedding hymn?”
Satin’s voice was low, inaudible to others—but it burned with fury.
“…I asked her to. Back when I hurt my leg… I didn’t think it would turn out like this.”
Giyorn’s whispered excuse trickled beneath the song.
“You said you wanted the best for every part of the wedding. I thought you’d be surprised and happy if the greatest soprano of our time made a surprise appearance…”
Surprised and happy?
Sure. So shocked my heart nearly stopped.
It would’ve been better if he hadn’t done anything at all. This—this was the worst thing he’d done yet.
Most of the guests recognized Delilah’s face. And now, in the middle of a wedding to his long-time fiancée, the groom’s mistress was singing the sacred hymn.
Satin’s mind went blank.
After finishing the song, Delilah calmly returned to her seat in the choir.
The cardinal began his sermon—surely an impressive one, given the pope’s endorsement—but not a single word reached Satin.
She glared at Giyorn. Then at Delilah.
The humiliation of becoming a joke between them wouldn’t go away. She felt mocked, standing here in front of all these guests.
The sermon passed in a blur.
A storm swirled in her mind. Satin kept replaying that moment—the hymn meant to bless her marriage, and Delilah revealed behind the curtain.
If she hadn’t asked to see behind it, she would’ve gone through the entire ceremony without knowing. But now that she did know—it chilled her to the bone.
Suddenly, Giyorn’s voice broke through her daze. Satin blinked back to reality.
“Yes.”
What was the question?
She hadn’t caught it. Too late now. She waited for the next line.
“Giyorn Selwio, do you vow to honor your one and only wife, and love her until the end of your days?”
They were already at the marriage vows. Satin flinched.
When had it gotten to this point? She must’ve zoned out for too long.
Giyorn hesitated briefly. His eyes flicked toward Delilah.
Satin recalled the cardinal’s words.
‘To honor your one and only wife…’
Honor? He hadn’t honored her once throughout this entire ordeal.
“Yes,” Giyorn said.
Satin let out a bitter scoff. The cardinal turned to her now.
“Satin del Mare, have you come to this altar of your own free will?”
“…Yes.”
“Satin del Mare, do you vow to honor your one and only husband, and love him until the end of your days?”
Satin looked at Giyorn.
The groom, who should’ve been gazing at his bride, was instead stealing glances at his mistress.
This wedding meant nothing to him.
And in that instant, Satin came to a clear, undeniable conclusion.
…I can’t do this. This marriage? I’m done.
So what if I got betrayed? Who says I can’t betray him right back?
Satin closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them with resolve.
“…No.”
