TMSB Ch#02

Psyche blankly stared at the oddly flustered expression on the head maid’s face.

In the somber, modest dining room, everyone except Psyche had brightened at the unexpected good news.

“Oh my, for our Psyche? But His Grace the Grand Duke…”

Even the Viscountess, who had been weighed down with guilt, looked somewhat more hopeful than a moment before.

But her words trailed off. She couldn’t fully rejoice—because of the rumors surrounding the Grand Duke.

“My lady, the stories about His Grace are just rumors. There’s no need to worry. What matters is that Lady Psyche has finally received a good marriage offer.”

The head maid spoke gently, trying to reassure her.

Only the subject of the proposal stood silent, unable to smile or cry.

“The Grand Duke’s rumors.”

Psyche recalled the vague things she had heard about the Grand Duke.

Some said he was so monstrous in appearance that he could not show his face in public.

Others claimed he was under a curse that prevented him from leaving his castle.

“And wasn’t there also a rumor that the monocle he always carries can see into people’s hearts?”

No one knew what, if anything, was true.

But one thing was certain: the Grand Duke was unlike any of the suitors who had come before.

His mere existence birthed countless strange stories—proof of how fascinated the world was with him.

Such a proposal would stir immense public attention. This time, unlike before, Psyche would not be able to escape so easily.

Realizing this, she felt as though she were being strangled by a reality without substance.

“Greetings to Viscountess Clements and Lady Psyche. I’ve come to deliver a message from His Grace, the ruler of the Grand Duchy of Hyer.”

A stranger’s voice filled the room, and Psyche turned toward it in stunned disbelief.

They were in the middle of a meal. She had never given permission for a guest to be brought here.

She looked to her mother and the maid, bewildered.

But unlike Psyche, the two of them looked as though they were on the verge of joyful tears.

They seemed unbothered by the envoy’s bold breach of etiquette.

‘Did the maid let him in? But that doesn’t make sense.’

Though the maid sometimes pressured her into marriage, she always maintained proper decorum. Normally, she would’ve made the envoy wait in the drawing room.

Just as Psyche was about to point out the rudeness herself, she met the eyes of the Grand Duke’s envoy.

Eyes of a cool, frosty blue.

The light streaming through the window reflected like crashing waves within them.

As the light faded, a look of disdain clearly emerged in those eyes.

The man stared openly at Psyche, making no effort to hide his contempt.

“Ah…”

She let out a faint sigh without realizing.

‘Why is he looking at me like that…?’

In the end, Psyche was the one who looked away first.

She was used to condescending stares. But for some reason, this man’s gaze pierced deeper.

Her eyes wandered in search of focus, and she parted her lips to speak.

But the Viscountess spoke first.

“We had heard nothing in advance, so your visit is unexpected… Please, speak.”

Straightening her back and lifting her chin, the Viscountess tried to keep her voice from trembling.

Her noble bearing, despite her modest attire, remained intact—but the slight twitch of her lips gave away her nerves.

The envoy slowly turned his gaze from Psyche and finally spoke.

“His Grace offers Lady Psyche Clements of the Cigar Empire the honor of becoming his duchess.”

“…”

“That is all.”

He bowed politely and stepped back.

A cold silence swept through the dining room.

Psyche, watching her mother blink dozens of times in a matter of seconds, let out a silent sigh.

If she could, she would’ve stormed out of the room. That’s how she felt.

But she had a duty to stay—for her fragile mother.

“Mother.”

She quietly called, shifting her gaze to her mother’s trembling hands.

Though the Viscountess had been born a noblewoman—the second daughter of a powerful marquess—she had never been comfortable in high society.

She had fallen in love with the heir of a declining viscountcy and married him, growing more reclusive as the family’s fortunes fell.

Sometimes, she seemed lost in a dream. But even she realized the envoy had insulted them.

Psyche saw her mother’s hands shaking pitifully and felt a pounding ache in her skull.

“W-What exactly do you mean by that?”

The Viscountess couldn’t hide the tremble in her voice.

“Just what I said. His Grace has proposed to Lady Psyche Clements.”

“I mean—was that the entirety of His Grace’s message?”

“…Ah.”

As if just remembering, the envoy made a low sound.

“His Grace also said that since he cannot yet fully trust Lady Psyche, she will reside in the Grand Duchy for one year under an engagement before the marriage vows are exchanged.”

“She hasn’t even married him yet, and she’s to live in his duchy? Then what of a proper betrothal ceremony before God?”

“If you wish, an engagement vow can be made. But there will be no engagement ceremony.”

In other words, Psyche could be discarded at any time.

And if that happened, she’d live the rest of her life in disgrace—a woman discarded by the Grand Duke amid scandal.

That was why the Viscountess asked about the vow. At least if it were a sacred vow, it couldn’t be broken so easily.

“An engagement vow is a sacred oath. It must have a witness. If you want my daughter, vow before everyone in a proper ceremony.”

“The engagement will be witnessed by a bishop officially recognized by the Church. The Grand Duchy will appoint one directly, ensuring the utmost credibility.”

The Viscountess and the envoy began a back-and-forth.

No, it wasn’t even a real conversation. The envoy was trampling over the Clements family with cold formality.

“Also, Lady Psyche will not be allowed to see His Grace’s face until after the wedding.”

“…”

A bizarre condition. To not see her fiancé’s face before the marriage.

And yet, not entirely incomprehensible. The Grand Duke had never once been seen in public.

Psyche, swallowing her emotions, took her mother’s pale hand in her own.

She gently patted the back of her mother’s hand, and the Viscountess finally took a deep breath, as if she had been suffocating.

“To deny her even the sight of her betrothed’s face… Even His Grace cannot speak so insultingly. I won’t send my daughter to someone so disrespectful.”

The Viscountess’s voice was quiet but firm. Her chin was raised in resolve.

The envoy paused for a moment. Then, with a low breath, he stepped forward.

“Next, I will share the conditions His Grace offers Lady Psyche Clements, assuming the marriage proceeds.”

“What insolence—!”

Psyche gently held her mother’s trembling hand, trying to calm her.

“Mother, I’m fine. Let’s just listen.”

Psyche was angry too. A complete stranger had come in and hurled disdainful looks at her.

But she was curious.

Why would the ruler of the Grand Duchy of Hyer want to marry her? Perhaps the answer would help her divert his attention elsewhere.

“His Grace offers a dowry of one million francs, and an additional forty thousand francs per month to the Clements family.”

“…”

Psyche furrowed her brow.

The amount spilling from the envoy’s mouth was wildly unrealistic.

Her mother’s trembling hand now shook for an entirely different reason.

The monthly amount alone was three times what the Clements estate had earned in its most prosperous days.

That is, if they had saved every coin without spending a single franc.

Of course, all money that came in had a way of vanishing.

“There is, however, one small condition.”

“…What is it?”

Psyche’s question broke the stunned silence.

Adding the dowry to the monthly stipend, the amount was too generous for her face alone.

Like all her past suitors, this one surely came with additional, hidden terms.

If you take something, you must give something.

And sometimes, that exchange was far from fair.

“The condition is…”

The man’s lips parted slowly.

Psyche held her breath, staring at his red lips.

They reminded her of a forbidden apple. She was afraid of what would fall from them.

But the words she waited for never came.

Because someone’s voice shook the entire dining room—

“Psyche! Stop this immediately!”

It was her father, Viscount Clements.