Chapter 01
In the night, a deep red glow from burning firewood flickered coldly in a pair of dark red eyes.
“Who would trust a woman alone to guard this place?”
A big, hot hand grabbed Marsha’s thin hands and pushed them down onto the floor.
“Ugh…!”
She cried out in pain, but his heavy breathing soon drowned out her voice.
“Why did you even bother saving me?”
His lips curled into a strangely beautiful, bitter smile, despite his roughness.
“Why? Didn’t you like the reward from the client? Were you planning to sell me to someone else?”
“Hey, that’s a misunderstanding…!”
He laughed, making his sweat-drenched blond hair shine.
“I’ll give you a chance.”
His serious face came close to her ear.
Her short, curly hair brushed against his face as she struggled.
“Who hired you to kill me?”
“Ugh…!”
“You better tell the truth. If you don’t…”
His empty hand gently wrapped around her thin neck.
“You’ll regret letting me live.”
Marsha squeezed her green eyes shut.
‘I should have ignored it…!’
She should’ve left him to die.
She knew it might bring danger.
But I foolishly brought him here, and now I’m going through this.
She was no longer a rich, loving lady who could give kindness and care…
***
A woman with lovely curly brown hair, neatly braided, and eyes as bright as midsummer green grapes read a letter.
“Marsha, the world’s most beautiful and adored fiancée.”
My desire to see you is the same as yours.
If I hadn’t been having business issues, I would have rushed to you.
Ah, those customs officers in the Straviin Empire make such a fuss over even small imports.
The officials in the Gloria Duchy are even worse.
I think they just want some bribes, but where do I have that kind of money? Lately, I feel so miserable because of this.
If my family were a little richer, I would have paid the bribes and finished the deal quickly.
Then I could have met you sooner.
Dear Marsha, Please accept my love and wait for me, despite my shortcomings.
I will make every effort to refer to you as Viscount Rosany’s wife rather than Countess Emmelaide.
Yours forever, Willford, with love.
At first, her face was bright while reading the letter, but then worry showed on her face.
“Marsha…”
Count Emelide, who had come to find her, frowned and walked toward her.
“What’s wrong, child?”
“Wilford says he can’t come see me again this summer vacation.”
“No, why? The Gloria Duchy isn’t that far from our land.”
“It seems his business is having some trouble.”
“Again?”
That one word, “again,” held a lot of meaning.
“What is that man even good at? For this reason alone, I am unable to approve the marriage. How can I trust him with you?”
The countess Emelide shouted in anger, and Marsha spoke carefully.
“Wilford’s business was difficult not because he lacked ability. His father’s gambling and the horses getting sick were all things beyond his control.”
“That cursed gambling his father couldn’t give up until he died—yes, that can’t be blamed on Wilford. But the horses are getting sick because of his poor skill.”
Years ago, Wilford started a business that didn’t match his finances.
He planned to raise racehorses and sell them to a neighbouring country, Straviin.
[‘The horses from our Dominique Principality are the best around. If you help just a little, Count, I’ll make sure our family name rises again. You won’t be embarrassed.’]
Count Emelide lent him money.
Wilford quickly bought expensive horses with good bloodlines and built a nice ranch.
He strongly believed that in late summer, gentlemen from Straviin would buy expensive horses for autumn riding.
However, there was a massive typhoon that summer.
Wilford’s ranch only lost its feed storage, but nearby areas had worse damage.
Crops were uprooted and scattered, and a pig barn collapsed, killing many pigs.
“There was a rotten smell from the dirt and river. However, he simply allowed the horses to wander around and drink water and eat soiled leaves. So, they all died.”
Watching her father become irate, Marsha boldly raised her voice.
“At that time, Wilford wanted to move the ranch to a safer place for the horses. However, he was too embarrassed to ask his father for assistance once more and couldn’t afford it.
“Oh, Marsha. He made such excuses, and you accepted them.
“I didn’t believe him…”
Count Emelide held his daughter’s hand.
“If he made that choice because he was embarrassed, he shouldn’t have asked for my help afterwards. You know how many times he came to me for help after that?”
“…”
“If your late mother’s friend, the deceased Countess, hadn’t been involved, I wouldn’t have allowed this engagement. Now, since the countess is gone and your mother has passed away, it’s right that this engagement should end.”
“Father.”
Marsha looked at her father with eyes full of tears.
“To someone as great as you, Wilford must seem a failure. But to me, he shines very brightly. I’m a coward. This mansion is my whole world. But he’s different. He’s not afraid to fail. He keeps trying, and he keeps expanding his world.”
Count Emelide’s expression was complicated.
It hurt to see his beloved daughter not love him back, and it annoyed him that she supported Wilford, whom he thought was hopeless.
“And this trouble now isn’t a big deal. He will fix it soon and come back.”
“If you think that way, I’ll let it pass for now. But remember this—if he disappoints me again, I’ll find someone else for you to marry.”
“Thank you, Father.”
Marsha’s worried face brightened up.
The Count Emelide gently patted her and said,
“My child, you are not a coward. Like your mother, you are kind and have sharp eyes and ears to understand people. That’s why I worry about you.”
The Countess Emelide spent her whole life helping poor people and sadly passed away early from a contagious disease she caught from them.
The Count always feared that his daughter, who looked so much like her mother, would live a sad and unfair life.
That’s why he didn’t allow Marsha to leave the estate.
He was afraid that sly people would take advantage of her good nature.
“Marsha, always remember this. People can’t be trusted. Especially commoners. Born poor, working hard since childhood to survive, they can be very cruel. To fill their stomachs, they might even bite someone’s ankle. Even if it’s the person who feeds them.”
“Our servants don’t do that,” Marsha said.
“You don’t think so because I provide well for them. But people outside don’t behave like that. Even the one your mother found in Alfred, or the flour seller’s daughter who’s always hanging around you.”
“Father…”
Marsha complained about her father’s harsh words again.
The Count sighed deeply.
‘I was a fool to let those people stay close to Marsha.’
Because there were no friends her age nearby, he allowed it.
But sending her to school would have been better.
If she had to be around people, it was better that she be with nobles born in a richer world than with commoners from a different life.
“You didn’t come just to say these harsh things, did you?”
“It’s not harsh words, it’s worry. Anyway, I came to see if you had received any letters.”
“Letters? From whom?”
“From anyone.”
Marsha blinked her big, round eyes and played with the letter in her hand.
“There’s only one letter—from Wilford.
Is something wrong?”
“No.”
The Count shook his head.
“Anna said you were reading a letter, so I wondered if someone other than Wilford sent you mail.”
“Father. Who else would send me letters besides Wilford? I don’t even have friends or anyone I talk to.”
Marsha smiled shyly.
“Speaking of which, I’m thinking of holding your debutante party this fall. What do you think?”
“Debutante party? Oh my! Did I hear that right?”
Joyful excitement spread across Marsha’s face.
Nearby Straviin held debutante parties to announce young ladies joining high society, but the Domique Duchy had no such custom.
Nearby, young ladies just followed their fathers to parties and later married suitable men, then became active in society as wives of noble families.
All young ladies of the duchy dreamed of a debutante party where they would be noticed for themselves, not just as someone’s wife.
But few fathers could afford to throw such a massive celebration that invited all the nobles of Dominique.
Count Emmelaide was different.
He was the richest man in the duchy and would give anything to his only daughter.
“You stayed only in the estate because of my worries and couldn’t make real friends. Now I want to give you a chance to make up for that.”
The Count said playfully but firmly,
“You should use your imagination and plan the most beautiful party. It might be impossible to cover all the walls with pearls, but remember you can put pearls all over the frames on the walls.”
Marsha’s cheeks turned red, and she smiled shyly, covering her mouth.
“Thank you. I don’t know if I can do well, but I will try to make sure everyone enjoys the party.”
The Count hugged his daughter tightly.
She was such a lovely child.
He felt sorry that she lost her mother early and promised to raise her with everything she needed, even if it spoiled her.
But his daughter grew up very humble and gentle.
“She is so kind and innocent—I worry how she will survive in this world.”
‘She’s not that kind…’
Marsha swallowed her words and said,
“You just need to protect me, Father.”
“Yes, I will. I will live long to protect you.”
The Count promised happily.
Marsha felt safe and leaned more on his chest.
She believed her father would always be by her side.
Or at least, she thought she would see his hair turn grey someday.
