Prologue
Late at night, the pale moonlight streamed silently through the wide window frame, casting a soft glow over the room. It brushed gently across the elegant marble table and velvet sofa, painting the scene like a still life.
But the scene on the bed was far from serene.
“No more…”
“I know.”
Before Evangeline could finish speaking, he cut her off. The man slowly raised his head, as though gauging her reaction. His face was so pale, it was difficult to believe what they had just been doing moments ago.
“Are you alright?”
“…Of course.”
She gave a small nod, and he drew back. She thought he might linger a little longer, but he didn’t. The moment he checked the time, he got up and began to dress, putting on the uniform he had taken off earlier.
Evangeline simply watched him in silence.
Decarno von Thèse.
Not even the fading moonlight could detract from this man’s appearance. Those dark gray eyes, signature of House Thèse, remained terrifyingly composed. He stood a head taller than most men, and his broad shoulders commanded attention. Everything about him exuded authority—he was a man who dominated every space he entered.
“Is something the matter?”
“…”
She absentmindedly swept back her black hair, revealing her smooth forehead and marble-like eyes. When her silver gaze finally met his, Evangeline quickly shook her head.
“No. It’s nothing.”
“What’s your schedule today?”
“I’ll be reviewing some documents during the day, and in the afternoon, I’ll be greeting guests at the banquet.”
At least when talking about such mundane things, there was no hesitation between them. Perhaps that was why Decarno, now leaning casually against the table and adjusting his cufflinks, let out a slight frown.
“Sounds exhausting.”
“…”
Something like that.
With just two words, he revealed exactly how he felt about the event. Considering his demanding schedule outside the mansion, his attitude was understandable. Evangeline’s lips twitched faintly, and she let out a soft smile.
“I don’t mind.”
“Then it’s fine.”
“…”
“Is there anything else you want to say to me?”
He should have left the mansion already, yet he stood there, unmoving. Even with the disheveled bed behind her—so clearly marked with his presence—Decarno remained completely composed. Except for that first night when he’d been half-drunk, he had never once lost control.
“Evangeline?”
“No.”
“…”
“What would I have to say? There’s nothing. Have a safe trip.”
He narrowed his eyes at her graceful smile, but that was all. Turning slowly, Decarno resumed his role as the perfect Duke of Thèse. As the Chairman of the Senate, who oversaw the entire empire, a mountain of work surely awaited him today.
‘What kind of expression would he make if I told him today was my birthday?’
A fleeting thought. Evangeline chuckled under her breath and shook her head. The idea of asking such a man, “Would you come to my birthday party, if you can?” seemed both laughable and pathetic.
They had chosen to prioritize their duties over affection—it was their unspoken agreement, even as they stood on the cusp of marriage.
“…It’s fine. Just fine.”
Evangeline rolled her shoulders, brushing aside the thought. If he had already returned to being the stoic Duke, then she must likewise become the poised future Duchess. With the ring of the bedside bell, a maid entered. Evangeline gave her instructions, her tone elegant and composed.
“Bring me breakfast and tea. Oh… and birth control pills.”
◇ ◆ ◇
The Union of the Century.
The engagement between the young Duke of Thèse and the only daughter of Count Ohara had been hailed by society as a perfect match. A political marriage between the most powerful noble house and the wealthiest count’s family—no alliance could be more ideal.
In Roark’s aristocratic circles, where marriages were little more than transactions, theirs was considered the golden deal, an arrangement with no flaws.
Except for one: there was no desperate love between them.
“Happy birthday, Young Lady Ohara.”
“Thank you for coming, Countess.”
“What are you saying? Of course I came. We’re like family.”
Guests arriving at the ducal annex took great pride in their connection to Evangeline, soon to be the Duchess of Thèse. With practiced grace, she welcomed each one, playing the part of the perfect future hostess.
“We’re nearing the late Duchess of Thèse’s death anniversary, so the event will be quite modest. I haven’t prepared much, so please enjoy yourselves comfortably.”
“…”
Her words were humble, but the banquet was anything but. The deep velvet draped across the ceiling mirrored the silver waves of Evangeline’s long hair. Ice sculptures carved in wintry motifs sparkled in the light of hundreds of silver candlesticks, casting the room in a dreamlike glow.
And yet, for a woman like Evangeline Ohara—daughter of the Empire’s wealthiest man—this was considered modest.
“Of course, she’s Count Ohara’s daughter. If you tallied all this in coin…”
“But where is Duke Thèse?”
The brighter the light, the darker the shadows. Some of the overwhelmed ladies, now loosened by drink, whispered among themselves once the initial tension faded.
“Even if it’s a marriage of convenience, shouldn’t he show his face on a day like this? They’re practically married already.”
“But the Young Lady acts as if she’s the Duchess already.”
In Roark’s social customs, it wasn’t unusual for a woman to stay with her fiancé before marriage. But for those itching to gossip, even that meant little. Nor did they care that the Duke of Thèse was the most overburdened man in the empire.
‘If I don’t act like this, it feels like my stomach will burst from holding it in.’
Evangeline Ohara was the unrivaled queen of the social scene. No amount of gold, no family name, no exquisite jewel could outshine her.
Her long, flowing silver hair framed a face both refined and proud. Her pale, snow-like skin looked as though it would melt under the lightest touch, and her rare pink eyes glimmered with icy strength. In the Belice Empire, where dark features were the norm, her coloring was so unusual it sparked jokes that her father had mined those eyes himself from the legendary Cairn mines.
“If Count Ohara hadn’t discovered the Cairn mines, would this engagement have even happened? Honestly, could the Ohara family ever compare to House Thèse before that?”
“That’s right. Still, Lady Evangeline was born with everything—beauty, wealth, status. Now she’s to be the Duchess of Thèse.”
“Too bad His Grace shows no interest…”
As the wine loosened their tongues, the women’s chatter grew bolder. But when they realized who had entered the room, they all fell silent.
It was Evangeline.
One woman, flustered and nervous, laughed awkwardly.
“S-Sorry! We didn’t mean it badly. We just thought… it would’ve been nice if the Duke had come.”
“No. I prefer the quiet.”
“Y-Yes, of course, Young Lady.”
“As if nothing happened. As if no one was ever here.”
“…”
“If you can’t do that, then leave.”
Her pink eyes crinkled with what might have been a smile—or a warning. The ladies’ laughter died in their throats, and the room grew still. Evangeline, seemingly satisfied, picked up her glass again.
“The wine is excellent today. Let’s all get drunk together, shall we?”
“H-Haha! Yes, of course!”
The crowd raised their glasses in feigned joy. Evangeline sipped hers too, though a dull throb pulsed behind her eyes. She wanted to lie down. Rest. But if she didn’t throw a party of this scale, the wolves would circle.
Compared to that, such gossip was harmless.
“Oh! Evangeline, look! Over there!”
“…?”
Someone gestured toward the entrance. She lifted her gaze, her expression carefully composed. It couldn’t be him. He was always too busy. It was a marriage of obligation—she shouldn’t expect anything more.
But the carriage that had arrived belonged not to him, but to her own family.
“Oh my! The Count must have sent you a surprise!”
“…Father.”
As Evangeline blinked slowly, a servant rushed over and handed her a telegram. Unlike her calm demeanor, the crowd around her buzzed with excitement.
“What do you think it is this time? The Arabelle Diamond?”
“Maybe the deed to a private island? Or a new vacation villa? The Count always goes big!”
“…”
“Please, what is it?”
“What did he send, Young Lady?”
Evangeline read the message quietly. Then she folded it, placed it back in its envelope, and tucked it away. Her face was unreadable.
It was indeed a special gift.
The kind one would never forget.
All ships on the Ohara route departing Addis last month have sunk in a storm.
If word spread that her family’s fortune had been wiped out in a single night…
Then this birthday would be her last one as the woman everyone envied.
