Chapter 3 ….
Freya sat down with a tearful expression.
Her first meeting with her soon-to-be new family had gone completely wrong. She should’ve tried to make a good impression, yet it seemed she had already earned her younger brother’s dislike. Tears welled up in her eyes.
Jin, watching the dejected Freya, barely held back a laugh before speaking calmly to Emily.
“It’s the first time I’ve ever seen Millian that flustered.”
“Haha, I’m sorry. My daughter’s a bit of a klutz.”
“It’s fine. On the contrary, I’m actually happy. I think the quiet manor will feel much livelier now.”
Jin smiled warmly and reached out his large hand to gently ruffle Freya’s hair.
Freya blushed shyly, touched by how Jin was trying to act as a father in place of the one she had never even seen. At least the Duke seemed to like her—that was a relief.
Millian, however, never returned to the table. He must have gone straight home, because even by the time they finished eating the pudding that had been served again, he didn’t come back.
News spread quickly that Marchioness Rachel and Duke Edmore were getting remarried.
The Empire called it the romance of the century, newspapers printed the story, and the wedding hall overflowed with people who came to offer congratulations.
On the day of the wedding, Freya beamed as she looked at Millian.
It was only their second time meeting, and Millian was dressed in ceremonial attire of a similar color palette to hers. The two of them were supposed to scatter flower petals together during the ceremony.
But Millian refused to even glance at her. He sat with his arms crossed and his legs propped up, completely ignoring her existence.
Freya, unfazed, scooted closer.
“Hello, Millian?”
“……”
Millian said nothing and shifted all the way to the edge of the sofa.
Freya followed again, thinking he was just being shy after not seeing her for a while.
This repeated several times.
Millian ended up perched on the very edge of the seat, and Freya kept inching after him.
But she moved too quickly once, accidentally bumping into him. Millian gave a startled “Ugh!” as he nearly fell backward.
“Oh no!”
Freya grabbed him in a panic, preventing him from toppling over. In the process, she ended up holding his waist while leaning over him.
It looked just like a scene from a waltz.
“……”
“……”
Her long hair brushed against his ear. Millian, dazed for a moment, suddenly scowled.
“Get off me!”
He shoved her away roughly, making Freya stumble. He himself fell back and hit his head.
Freya, trying to steady him again, ended up toppling forward and landing right on top of him.
In a panic, straddling his waist, Freya cried out, “Oh no, are you okay, Millian?!”
“……”
Millian lay there blankly, stunned. To have a girl fall on him like this was humiliating, and the fact that he’d lost his balance in the first place felt pathetic.
Nothing good ever happened when this girl was around.
Freya, noticing his expression, thought his eyes were saying, ‘I can’t believe this is supposed to be my sister. I hate it.’
Worried he might have hurt his head, she quickly helped him up, her hands fumbling over his head to check.
It had been her fault. She had gotten too excited and clung to him, and now this had happened.
“Don’t touch me.”
Millian snapped irritably, batting her hands away. Freya immediately drew back.
Millian figured by now she ought to be angry too—after all, he had been rude to her every time they met.
But strangely, Freya didn’t get mad. Instead, she looked on the verge of tears and murmured,
“Oh no, you’ve got a bump. Does it hurt a lot, Millian?”
Millian, unexpectedly worried over, blurted out irritably, “And whose fault do you think this is?!”
To him, she was simply impossible to get along with.
Freya flinched at his outburst.
She hadn’t meant for any of this to happen. She had only wanted to get along with him, yet every time they met, she ended up hurting him. It was upsetting.
Still, she was his older sister now—she couldn’t just give up.
Freya straightened his clothes with a determined look.
Millian tried to push her away in disgust, but she was taller than him and wouldn’t budge. Eventually, he gave up struggling, lips pressed tight in silent protest.
Once she was done, Freya smiled brightly at him.
“There, good boy. My little brother.”
“Who’s your little brother?”
“From today on, we’re siblings.”
“I refuse! I don’t want a foolish sister like you—”
Freya’s eyes widened in shock at his words.
Millian, realizing she was finally grasping his stance, smirked and prepared to press his point further. But before he could, a heavy smack landed on the top of his head.
“Ow!”
Clutching his head, Millian turned to see none other than Duke Edmore glaring down at him.
That must’ve hurt.
Freya winced at the thought he might now have two lumps on his head. She glanced at the two of them—father and son.
They really did look alike: both silver-haired, red-eyed, strikingly handsome.
Freya unconsciously looked at her own lavender hair. Unlike their pale and red tones, she was all shades of blue. No matter how she looked, there was nothing similar between them.
For a moment, loneliness tugged at her. But she quickly shook the thought away. One didn’t have to look alike to be family.
“You brat, is that how you talk to your sister?”
“Father!” Millian cried out in protest.
Jin silenced him with a sharp “Tsk!” and a stern look.
Feeling guilty, Freya clung to Jin’s arm. “Please don’t scold him—it’s my fault.”
“Freya, don’t cover for him just because he’s your brother. Anyone could see Millian was being disrespectful.”
“But…” Freya’s voice trailed off as she lowered her head.
She had only wanted to show her best side, yet it felt like she kept making clumsy mistakes. What if the Duke decided he didn’t want her as a daughter after all? The thought filled her with anxiety.
But Jin, seeing her so dispirited, spoke gently.
“More importantly, you look very beautiful today. Marchioness Rachel will be pleased.”
“Th-thank you. You look very handsome today too, Your Grace!”
“‘Your Grace’? From now on, call me Father.”
Jin straightened her attire as he spoke. Freya’s eyes sparkled.
Father. She had never said that word before—she’d never had anyone to call by it.
“F… Father?”
“That’s right. I like the sound of it, Freya.”
Jin’s kind smile at her awkward attempt made Freya blush and beam.
She truly had a father now. A very handsome and capable one at that. She couldn’t wait to see Maria’s face full of envy.
Millian watched them through narrowed eyes. They looked nothing alike, yet the two of them seemed so close—like a real father and daughter.
The one who actually resembled Jin was Millian himself. And yet, strangely, he felt like the outsider.
A tightness pinched his chest. He turned sharply and walked out of the waiting room.
The wedding began.
Emily, in her beautiful white gown, was dazzling. Jin, standing tall in his tuxedo, looked just as impressive.
Freya clutched her basket of petals with a blissful smile.
She had a father now.
And even a younger brother.
She couldn’t have been happier. From a family of just her and her mother, she suddenly had both a father and a brother.
But unlike Freya, Millian looked sour. He frowned deeply, barely holding his basket, as if everything annoyed him.
Yet even with a scowl, his handsome face still shone.
Freya wanted to say something, but she kept quiet, afraid of provoking his temper.
The officiant’s blessing concluded, and the march began. Freya straightened her back, determined not to make a mistake.
Millian also braced himself. Amid applause and cheers, Freya’s mother and Millian’s father walked down the aisle together.
Freya scattered petals enthusiastically, face glowing with excitement.
Millian, expressionless, lazily tossed his.
After a while, Freya, carried away by her joy, ended up emptying her basket before the march had even finished.
She froze, panicked. Should she pick petals off the ground and throw them again? What if she ruined the ceremony?
At that moment, Millian quietly scooped a handful of petals from his own basket and dropped them into hers.
