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Chapter 3
“…What the… Who would commit such a heinous act?”
“I don’t remember, so I can’t be sure. But I do have someone in mind.”
Chester’s eyes widened in urgency, pressing for an answer. Meanwhile, Selachia remained consistently indifferent, as if she were talking about someone else’s business.
“Isn’t it obvious? If I die, the succession of the duke title would be disrupted. It must be the acting duke, aiming for that.”
She calmly moistened her dry lips with Chester’s teacup—there wasn’t one for her, as she hadn’t called for a servant.
While Selachia leisurely savored the aroma of tea, Chester asked in a chilling tone,
“Where is that bastard now?”
“The acting duke? Hmm… probably in the office?”
“Not in the dungeon?”
Chester didn’t seem to care at all about her rude act of drinking from his cup. Whether it was because they’d been close since childhood, or because he was too angry to mind such trivial things—it was unclear.
“Well, yes. It’s a serious crime. The duke’s house can’t handle this independently. It would be more reasonable to have him escorted to the capital and executed.”
Selachia flinched slightly, still holding the cup. The voice coming from Chester was so grim it was hard to believe it belonged to him.
“Chester, calm down. As you can see, I’m fine.”
“If I had known you’d go through something like this, I would’ve risked my life to oppose this marriage.”
The words she had uttered earlier—“I’m fine”—no longer came out so easily. Her mouth felt dry and gritty, as if filled with sand rather than tea.
Why? If Selachia had known she would be entangled in such a disaster, she would’ve clung to her life a bit longer in the Baron Rensch estate.
She had only accepted the sudden marriage proposal from the Duke of Seydon for one reason:
She wanted to live.
A slightly better life.
“This is a marriage proposal addressed to you.”
Selachia stared blankly at the envelope in her hand.
Two ornate tridents crossed beneath a rising sea serpent.
Only one family in the empire, aside from the royal family, bore such a powerful crest.
“A proposal… from the Seydon Dukedom? Why me?”
She couldn’t hide her bewilderment. Normally, she wouldn’t even dare talk back to Baron Rensch. But now, she couldn’t hold back her question.
The Seydon Dukedom was second only to the royal family in power. Their lineage had continued alongside the Pangaea Empire, and their wealth from trade was unmatched.
They were leagues above her. Especially considering her status as the neglected daughter of the Baron Rensch family.
“Will you accept it?”
But Baron Rensch showed no interest in clarifying her confusion.
Was this even a question with real options?
She was well past the “ideal” age for marriage, and this was the only proposal she had ever received—from none other than the Duke of Seydon.
Selachia quietly bowed her head.
“Yes. I will, my lord.”
Her expression was flat. She didn’t feel much of anything.
So Chester, the longtime friend who occasionally visited her, got angry on her behalf.
“Seydon Dukedom? You mean Tenus Seydon?”
“There are only two people left in the Seydon family, and only one eligible for marriage. So probably.”
“Why now? What’s the young duke thinking?”
Selachia nodded quietly in agreement. Everyone had expected him to marry and take the title as soon as he came of age. But years had passed since his coming-of-age ceremony, with no news.
“Selachia, have you even met him?”
“You’re not seriously asking that, are you?”
She shot him a glare. She never left her room at the baron’s estate, while the young duke was supposedly at the Academy.
“Then why would he send a proposal to you?”
“Well… I don’t know.”
Selachia shrugged.
“It’s probably for that reason, right?”
A political reason.
What else could explain such a strange move?
Currently, the acting duke—Tenus Seydon’s maternal uncle—was managing the household until Tenus was formally installed. Officially. But when has human greed ever had limits?
Selachia had read of greedy regents in history books and fictional novels alike.
Tenus’ uncle probably wasn’t much different. That’s why Selachia assumed the proposal was a strategic move—to use her to ease his uncle’s suspicions.
She wasn’t noble-born or backed by powerful relatives—perfect for a decoy.
Even Selachia, shut in her room, could deduce that. Of course, Chester, who helped manage his family’s trade and had sharp insight, understood it even more clearly.
His handsome face crumpled.
“You might get dragged into a power struggle against your will. Are you still going through with it?”
“Marriage is inevitable anyway. Political marriages are common in noble families. I won’t get a better chance than this. Why would I refuse?”
She answered like an old widow who’d gone through nine marriages. Chester couldn’t hide his disapproval.
He rubbed his chin, thinking, then cautiously said,
“If you’re okay with it, I’ll ask my father and formally propose in our family’s name.”
“…What?”
“I can’t offer the wealth of the Seydon Dukedom, but I can keep you safe. I’ll try to make you happy. Be with me, Selachia.”
He was clearly nervous, despite the determined expression.
Selachia stared into his eyes—dark brown, like an old tree rooted in place. A color warm and sturdy enough to rest her weary soul.
“….”
Tempted though she was, Selachia shook her head.
Chester deserved someone better. This wasn’t just kindness to a thoughtful friend—it was her own promise to herself from long ago.
She thought of Baron Rensch, who looked nothing like her mother but whom she still resembled.
“No one should suffer because of my marriage.”
“Suffer? No one would suffer if we got married.”
“As much as you care for me, I care for you too, Chester. If you didn’t know, remember it now.”
Her lighthearted tone held clear rejection. Chester, caught off guard, looked stunned.
“But—”
“Marrying the young Duke might be a good thing. He’ll reclaim his position, and maybe I’ll find a place of my own. A mutually beneficial marriage. Isn’t that the perfect political match?”
It was overly optimistic, but sounded convincing. Still, Chester didn’t look convinced.
Trying to lift the heavy mood, Selachia deliberately said in a bright tone:
“There are rumors that the young Duke is incredibly handsome. Won’t you congratulate me for landing the empire’s most beautiful man, Chester?”
Her blue eyes sparkled like a child’s.
It was her way of saying she wouldn’t change her mind. Chester, who’d never managed to bend her stubbornness, sighed in resignation.
“You’ll be the lady of the richest duchy, and you’re satisfied with just that?”
“‘Lady of the house’—I like the sound of that. As long as I have a place to stay, that’s enough for me. What more could I want?”
She added with a smile,
“Hoping he’s as kind as you would be asking too much.”
Selachia only wanted one thing from this marriage.
Not glory, wealth, or romantic love.
She simply wanted to be acknowledged as a member of the household—without walking on eggshells just for breathing.
That basic wish was nearly impossible in the Rensch household. But maybe things would be different in the Seydon Dukedom, where no one knew her.
She was willing to dive into that small glimmer of hope.
“Then you should just marry me!”
Grumbling, Chester was ignored as Selachia chattered in mild excitement. A blush crept up her cheeks—finally looking like a girl her age.
“I’ll check with my own eyes if the rumors about his looks are true and write you a letter.”
“Wow, I can hardly wait.”
“They say the previous Duke and Duchess had a great marriage. What if he falls for me at first sight and showers me with affection?”
“Selachia. I always support your imagination, but once you become lady of the house, try to keep your dignity.”
She frowned and asked in mock seriousness,
“Would telling him about my childhood dream damage my dignity? You know—the righteous supe—”
“Selachia! You promised me you wouldn’t say that word again!”
Chester jumped up in alarm, slamming the table. Selachia burst out laughing.
Back then, she had truly felt a flutter of excitement for her long-awaited future.
Selachia’s hopeful optimism shattered on her wedding day.
Contrary to expectations, Baron Rensch gave her a hefty dowry. Perhaps out of respect for the powerful family involved.
With three lavish carriages, she set off toward the Seydon Dukedom feeling rather good, all things considered.
The rough ride made her stomach churn and her body ache, but the excitement of going somewhere far for the first time kept her spirits high.
“Welcome to the Seydon Dukedom. This way, please.”
But her smile vanished the moment she arrived.
She was greeted by only a few servants. Her groom was nowhere to be seen.
Selachia was taken aback. She hadn’t expected much—but not this level of disregard.
It felt like a reminder of her lowly status.
She was taken to the guest room and hurriedly prepared for the ceremony. Late at night, when everyone was asleep, they held a makeshift wedding.
In a grand but cold chapel.
Only four people were present: the priest officiating, the acting duke Aldrich Logue as witness, and the bride and groom.
It was so rushed and indifferent that it felt like a secret wedding.
No flowers. No guests.
The only thing worth looking at was the man who would be her husband—Tenus Seydon. The embodiment of all the grand rumors.
“The bride seems to have forgotten how to smile.”
His sarcastic tone instantly killed the effect of his beauty.
“Shouldn’t you at least try? You are the bride, after all.”
He sure expected a lot for a wedding that didn’t even feel like one.
As he slid the ring on her finger, he whispered those words, and she almost snapped back—but didn’t.
Because he naturally took her right hand to put on the ring.
Did he even know she was left-handed?
Forget the sarcasm—she was honestly impressed by the house’s information-gathering.
The ring from his side had a sapphire the size of a pinky nail, flanked by two small diamonds. Beautiful but far too modest for the Seydon Dukedom. It even looked slightly worn.
Had they just found it lying around?
Her heart, filled with inflated hope, deflated with a hiss. She wanted to sigh but forced a weak smile. No point angering the already annoyed groom.
But even that smile didn’t change Tenus’ cold expression.
“How cold-hearted of someone swearing eternal love.”
If he disliked her so much, why keep staring? His cold, pointed gaze followed her throughout the ceremony.
His deep blue eyes were like a stormy night ocean.
No warmth, no kindness.
Selachia lowered her head, trampling the little flame of hope inside her. And the more she did, the worse Tenus’ expression became.
Maybe that’s why—
That night, awkwardly preparing for their first night together with a servant’s help—
Tenus never came.
