🔊 TTS Settings
Chapter 4
But to Diana’s surprise, the fall didn’t last long.
Instead of cold seawater, she landed on something dry and chilly—like laundry left outside on a winter night.
Diana carefully opened her eyes. The sea was still far beyond the terrace.
“…Did you hate it that much? Enough to choose death?”
A soft, elegant voice spoke above her. The tone was so polite that Diana took a moment to realize he was accusing her.
She blinked a few times, then realized—her face was pressed against the chest of the man who had caught her.
Slowly, she lifted her head and saw his face.
His eyes gleamed gold, like the evening star. The way they sparkled reminded her of the amber brooch in the baroness’s jewelry box—yellow like sunlight, yet clear like glass.
There was even a small tear-shaped mole beneath his eye, like winter’s chill left behind on his skin.
She stared, dazed, before snapping back to her senses.
“I-I didn’t mean—”
“Don’t even try to pretend.”
His cold stare made her shrink in fear.
“To think someone like you would be the Duchess. Fenril must truly be cursed.”
Whether it was sarcasm or self-pity, he muttered and roughly dropped her back to the ground—just as carelessly as he had pulled her up.
Then he stood over her, arms crossed, with a crooked smirk. His long, dark hair had come loose and fell over his shoulder.
Only then did Diana realize who he was.
Jarl Erno Larsson Fenril.
The head of House Fenril.
The Grand Duke of Norbert.
The man feared as “the groom who eats his brides.”
Her husband-to-be.
Realizing this, her face went pale.
Even in her confused mind, one thing was clear: he had misunderstood.
“That’s not what happened!”
“Oh? Then what did happen?”
“I just wanted to look at the sea! Really!”
“At this hour of the night? If you’re going to lie, at least try harder.”
He sounded calm, but his eyes were full of disgust and disbelief.
“If you hate it here, just say so. I’ll cancel this marriage. I’m sure you never wanted it anyway. Let’s be adults and talk.”
The moment he mentioned canceling the marriage, Diana froze.
Cancel the marriage? She instantly pictured what would happen next—and her entire body went cold.
Veronica’s words from earlier echoed in Erno’s ears: “Do you really think this bride will be any different?”
Even he knew this marriage was a disaster waiting to happen.
This land—where winter lasts most of the year and the nights never seem to end—was a cruel place for a girl raised in the warm south.
“The Lady asked to see you, Your Grace.”
“Me?”
He was surprised. She had come a long way and must be exhausted. But since she asked, he couldn’t refuse.
Still, the moment he opened the door, he knew.
This marriage would also fail.
Through the half-open glass door, he saw something white and fluttering hanging over the balcony. It was a person—her.
Her slim ankles dangled dangerously above the ground. His face went pale.
Was she planning to jump?
There were sharp rocks below. If she was lucky, she’d die instantly. If not…
Even if it was her choice, someone would still have to clean up the body at dawn.
He had to stop her.
Without hesitation, he moved—and pulled her back before she even noticed.
Her wrist felt as fragile as a twig that could snap under the weight of snow.
Seeing her terrified, pale face twisted something in his gut.
This marriage is just as horrible for me, he thought.
He wished he could live alone. He was sick of forced marriages, of the elders using “duty” as an excuse, of watching the once-respected Fenril family stoop to begging lesser families for brides.
And now this bride, too, tried to lie her way out of it—claiming she just wanted to look at the sea. It was almost believable, but the dark, dangerous ocean below wasn’t something you’d admire in awe.
The fact she lied so easily made him feel disgusted.
“I’ll cancel the marriage if you want. You can leave at dawn.”
He fully expected her to accept.
But her response surprised him.
“Leave? Why would I leave? I’m not going anywhere.”
“…What?”
“You called me ‘Lady Fenril,’ didn’t you? I know that title isn’t something you just throw away.”
“…You really said that with a straight face?”
Erno let out a laugh—he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Was she being honest, or just good at lying?
Could she actually mean it?
No, he shut down the thought immediately.
Some brides had begged him to cancel the marriage. Others lied sweetly—then ran off, cursing the snow, before the week was over.
He had learned not to trust any of them.
“I’ll never leave. If you want, I’ll even swear it.”
When he still didn’t seem convinced, Diana became desperate and offered to swear on it.
She had to stop him from canceling the marriage—no matter what.
But words wouldn’t reach someone who had already made up his mind.
“What’s the value of a liar’s oath?”
His eyes stayed cold.
He didn’t say it out loud, but everything about him screamed:
Someone like you isn’t even worth speaking to.
Diana couldn’t respond. Even she wasn’t sure her promise held any value.
But she couldn’t give up now.
“…Then let’s make a bet. Something with real, visible results—not empty promises.”
“Why should I agree to your bet?”
“Because no matter the outcome, I’m staying here. It’s not a bad deal.”
“Hah.”
He scoffed. For someone trying to buy time, she looked desperate.
“If I win, I stay—because I want to. If I lose, I’ll still stay—because I have to.”
“…So I’ve married a con artist, not a bride.”
He sighed and rubbed his face. She was lying so hard it almost felt rude not to play along.
“As you may know, weddings here last three days. If you still haven’t changed your mind by the end, you win.”
Half out of curiosity, half out of spite, he accepted her bet.
Right now, she might think she’d outsmarted him. But within three days, she’d come crawling to him, begging to cancel the marriage.
The same lips that swore to stay would soon beg him to let her go.
Thinking about it almost made him smile.
“Have a good night… my Lady.”
He put extra force into the title, then grabbed her hand and kissed it.
It was a mocking gesture—gentle on the surface, but full of scorn.
There was no love in that kiss. Only humiliation.
