HBM 1

Do We Really Have to Get Married?

The tea, brewed to the perfect temperature, carried a fragrant aroma.

Lifting his cup to savor the scent, Lucas Black quietly observed the woman seated across from him. The condition of the teacup in her hands was… concerning.

At this rate, the cup will shatter.

Clink. Clink. Clink…

The woman’s pale fingers trembled as she gripped the cup. She was holding it with such force that her knuckles had turned bright red, while the bloodless tips of her fingers were white.

Lucas studied her small hand with troubled eyes.

No. Her fingers might break first.

Why was she so tense?

She sat rigidly, her gaze fixed on the floor. Watching her made him feel strangely uncomfortable. He hadn’t done anything, yet it felt as though he were the one cornering her.

This is… troublesome.

He glanced at the watch on his wrist and swallowed a sigh. He had carefully set aside time for this meeting, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that it had been a wasted trip.

He took another sip of tea, half-hiding his face behind the cup as he studied her again.

Grace Oellin.

The one and only daughter of Marquis Capren Oellin.

Of course, the marquis did have a son as well, but still, Grace Oellin was his only daughter. As rumors claimed—“the lily of the Oellin house”—she was pure and beautiful.

Her neatly pinned black hair shimmered as though crushed black pearls had been sprinkled over it. Her smooth jawline, clear skin, and gentle expression gave her a fragile yet strangely captivating air.

Grace Oellin was a pretty woman.

The kind of pretty one could see anywhere—common, even.

And yet, strangely, she drew people’s attention. Lucas believed it was because of her luminous, mysterious violet eyes.

Eyes as vivid as violets and as clear as amethysts.

They were hidden now beneath long lashes, but when he had first met her, those violet eyes had left a deep impression on him. It had almost felt as if he were being pulled into them.

Perhaps it wasn’t an exaggeration to say that he had come here hoping to feel that same impact again.

But at this rate, we won’t even manage a proper conversation—let alone make eye contact.

Lucas suppressed a short sigh and offered silent condolences to the elders who had pushed him into this meeting.

“The elders hope it won’t be postponed past this year.”

The butler, Gabriel, as always delivered dozens of family messages in one calm, succinct sentence.

One could tell how much pressure he’d endured—the capable butler’s face had turned pale from it.

The family had been relentless. As the head of House Black and the Duke who inherited the title, Lucas was expected to marry as soon as possible.

It was the duty of the head of the house.

And… a marriage for the sake of the family secret he alone had inherited.

The elderly elders had been urging him for two years now, their impatience tinged with anxiety—as though missing the right timing would be disastrous.

Eventually, unable to withstand their nagging, he had attended a social party the previous year—and there, by chance, met her.

“I am Grace Oellin.”

Her trembling voice had lingered strangely in his ears. Her violet eyes, shining more brightly than anyone else’s in the room, had left a strong impression.

He couldn’t name the emotion he felt, but he had thought it wouldn’t be so bad to meet her again and talk.

And so, he had come here.

But what on earth does this mean?

Once again, he looked at her fingers tightly gripping the teacup.

Sensing his gaze, she briefly glanced at him—only to quickly look away. The flicker of violet that had shone for an instant lingered in his mind like an afterimage.

Regret narrowed his eyes slightly. Perhaps she heard his soft sigh, because she flinched and bit her lower lip tightly. A flush spread across her snow-white face.

Her heated cheeks. Her anxious eyes. Her uneven breathing.

After watching her for a long moment, Lucas asked carefully in a low voice,

“Are I making you uncomfortable, Lady Oellin?”

“…!”

As if startled by the unexpected question, Grace lifted her head sharply.

“N-no, that’s not it…”

Her violet eyes, now wide open, were clearly visible.

Just as beautiful as he remembered.

The faint discomfort lingering in his chest disappeared the moment their eyes met.

Wasn’t this what people meant by someone being charming?

“Not it?”

“I-I mean… I’m s-sorry…”

Grace clenched her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut.

Lucas quietly sighed.

At the sound, her face turned even paler.

It seemed this meeting would end just like this.

Whatever the reason, how could he possibly marry a woman who trembled at the mere sight of him?

For once, he had met someone who intrigued him—but it couldn’t be helped.

At this rate, I may never marry at all.

His family would never accept that, of course.

He smiled bitterly.

It might be a soft notion for a nobleman, but he had no desire for a loveless marriage.

His life was far too precious to waste in meaningless conflict with someone he did not love.

Some might mock him for such thoughts—but he didn’t care.

Everyone had their own values.

And so, despite the pressure, Lucas simply smiled politely and waited.

Love.

A word that carried trust, faith, support, and joy.

What a beautiful and weighty word.

It was no less noble than loyalty or duty.

“….”

Lucas looked at the woman before him once more.

Though her hands trembled now, Grace Oellin was far stronger than she appeared.

She was one of the few women in the Kingdom of Jeronium to receive a noble title directly from the king. She personally ran a school for impoverished children.

She was known for her deep interest in botany.

She had even developed preserved foods to help the poor survive the dry season.

Some nobles criticized her, saying such actions were unladylike. Too bold. Too assertive for a woman.

Lucas disagreed.

He liked that beneath her gentle appearance lay stubbornness and conviction. He found himself curious—how would someone like her react if she learned his secret?

There were many things about her he liked.

But perhaps… we were never meant to be.

Lucas set his teacup down, gathering his regret.

“If it’s alright, perhaps we should conclude for today—”

Perhaps his voice came too suddenly.

Grace startled violently, and the untouched tea in her cup splashed directly onto her pristine skirt.

“Ah! I-I’m so sorry! I made a mistake!”

Panicked, she fumbled helplessly.

Her cheeks flushed bright red with embarrassment, and Lucas felt a pang of sympathy. He only wanted to help.

He took a handkerchief from his coat and extended it toward her.

“Please use this—”

“Eek!”

The moment his hand moved closer, Grace recoiled even more than before.

She clamped a hand over her mouth, staring at him with frightened, rabbit-like eyes.

Her violet gaze shook violently.

Though slightly embarrassed himself, Lucas assumed she was simply flustered.

For the startled lady’s sake, he offered her a gentle, reassuring smile.

“…!”

And then something strange happened.

“…Hng!”

Grace sharply inhaled at the sight of his smile—and then, as if her strength had drained away, her eyes slid shut.

Her small body crumpled to the floor like soaked cloth.

“Grace!”

Lucas swiftly rushed forward, catching her slender waist before she hit the ground.

Holding her upright, confusion spread across his face.

“What in the world…?”

Though startled, he carefully examined her complexion.

Her damp lashes rested neatly against her cheeks, still flushed with heat. From between her slightly parted lips came soft, steady breaths.

Only then did he let out a small sigh of relief.

Thankfully, it seemed to be simple fainting. Her breathing was stable. The gentle sound escaping her red lips was almost sweet.

Is she ill? Was she unwell today?

If so, her strange behavior made sense. Perhaps she had gripped the teacup so tightly just to endure.

If she was unwell, she could have said so.

And he, like a fool, had kept her here.

Guilt hardened his expression.

Just then—

“…cas.”

A faint, pained murmur slipped from between Grace Oellin’s tightly closed lips.