IBYVS 35

Chapter 35

I quickly wiped the dumb look off my face and apologized.

“Oh, s-sorry. I was just thinking deeply about the wedding for a moment…”

“Hm… is it something like melancholy?”

“Huh? Melancholy?”

What on earth is he talking about all of a sudden?

“When you were getting your dress fitted before, Madame mentioned it.”

Cedric stroked his smooth jawline as he spoke.

“She said that some brides experience melancholy as their wedding approaches.”

Ugh. Bride, he says.

I’d been called “bride-to-be, bride-to-be” so many times, but hearing it from Cedric’s lips felt… different.

“Apparently, the younger the bride, the stronger the melancholy tends to be.”

Ellia is twenty-three.

Compared to modern times, that’s early for marriage, sure—but in most romance-fantasy worlds, isn’t that about the usual age?

By that logic, Cedric himself is only twenty-five. From a modern perspective, still young…

“They say it’s only natural for a person to feel down if they have to hold their once-in-a-lifetime wedding in a shabby venue, or if they love their groom but he happens to be ugly.”

Cedric looked down at me as if asking, Is that the case for you, too?

Ack.

“Uh, n-no, that’s not really it, I don’t think.”

For one, our wedding is going to be ridiculously extravagant.

‘If you put this scale into money, it’d cover half a year’s operating costs for a minor noble family.’

Edwin’s voice echoed in my head again.

Besides, the groom is you.

His black hair, which shimmered faintly blue under the sunlight, always waved in neat, glossy strands.

His clear, pale skin had no pores, no trace of stubble—sometimes I wondered if he was even human.

And those eyes—sharp yet gentle.

His face gave off an air of purity, but when the light hit his long lashes just right, his deep gaze could look almost decadent.

That nose—no surgeon’s knife could ever create something so perfect.

And his lips, naturally tinged a soft red—

…Okay, I’ll stop.

Heat rushed to my face, and I hurriedly shifted my gaze to Cedric’s eyes.

Those eyes were the reason I thought of him as pure.

Not just blue—they had hints of white and violet, a mysterious shade that carried a quiet sorrow.

According to the salon madame, his color was called “periwinkle blue.”

Like the flower that blooms beautifully in the rain, his eyes suited that soft, damp glow.

At that moment, a flush began to creep up from Cedric’s neck.

“…Ellia?”

“…Oh!”

I realized then that I had been practically devouring him with my eyes.

Was this how King Zhou must have felt, bewitched by Daji’s beauty?

Every time I looked Cedric in the face, I lost my composure.

“Anyway, it’s not that. I’m not even sure if I’d call it melancholy, to be honest.”

I hastily steered the conversation back.

“I see…”

I thought I heard him mumble, Should we make the wedding even grander, just in case…

“No, honestly, the scale doesn’t matter. I mean, sure, if a bride marries young and the groom is ugly, she’d feel kind of… hollow, but…”

“Hollow?”

“Oh, uh. Like, a sense of emptiness, a blank state of mind. Anyway, that might happen, but you’re not like that, Cedric.”

Cedric tilted his head slightly, as if he didn’t quite understand.

The black hair I’d just been praising slipped softly out of place.

“You’re ridiculously handsome, Cedric. So I’d never feel depressed about it.”

I said it without even realizing how shameless I sounded.

But really, why should it be embarrassing to tell a handsome man he’s handsome?

Back in my world, people even called younger good-looking guys oppa!

“You’re honestly, truly, honestly the most handsome person I’ve ever seen in my life, Cedric. So you don’t need to worry about that.”

Your face is the best.

“Honestly, I could probably live just off your face and be satisfied.”

I almost raised a thumbs-up as I declared it.

But Cedric… didn’t seem used to hearing things like that.

The flush that had started at his neck spread up to his eyes, turning them pink.

If he denied it, it would sound like he was contradicting me.
If he admitted it, it’d be too embarrassing.

Unable to do either, he just stood there, cheeks burning red.

And gods, why did he look so good when flustered?

I never realized until now—turns out I really like this kind of thing.

It felt like I had just discovered a whole new side of myself.

After a long pause, Cedric spoke softly.

“…So I’m only… handsome?”

“…What?”

He bit his lower lip, then released it, as if regretting the words the moment they left his mouth.

Pressed by his teeth, his lips looked even redder and fuller than usual.

Like a child struggling to gather courage, he forced the words out:

“…Not… pretty?”

Holy—

It felt like someone had smacked the back of my head with a frying pan.

Otherwise, why would my thoughts go bang! and fly off like a home run?

I just gaped, speechless.

Cedric, flustered, covered his jaw with his hand and turned away.

“…That was inappropriate. Let’s head inside.”

Then he all but fled into the dress room.

The fact that he stopped escorting me wasn’t even the issue.

“Not… pretty?”

…Is he insane?!

Aren’t male leads in romance-fantasy novels usually described as wolves or predators?

Maybe Cedric was different because he was more of a sub-plot character—the kind who triggered the dark lord’s awakening.

But still…

Why was this sly, foxlike, adorably cute side of his so exactly my type?!

I clenched my fists at my waist and braced my heels against the floor.

If I bent my knees, I’d drop into a perfect taekwondo stance.

Every muscle in my body tensed.

Because if I wasn’t careful, I’d charge right into that dress room and scoop Cedric up in my arms—despite Madame being inside.

I’d shoved over bookcases and snapped ropes binding Daphne. Surely I could lift my man too!

It took every ounce of strength in me not to whirl him around in my arms.

“Ah, you’re a little late,”

As Cedric burst into the dress room, Madame Angela, the salon mistress, greeted him with a smile.

“My apologies. Something came up.”

Cedric’s face was calm again, as if it had never flushed red.

Angela, hiding her smile behind a fan, remarked:

“Well, of course. Gaining favor from one’s bride-to-be is very important.”

Cedric froze mid-step.

Creak, creak—his head turned stiffly toward Angela like a rusty gear.

Angela was already forty, but she was skilled enough to be entrusted with the wedding attire of the Cedric Kedisel Indigentia.

Though a commoner, many prominent society ladies were her clients.

To her, Cedric—who had suddenly decided to marry after years of holing up in the ducal estate—was like a boy groom in the palm of her hand.

“…You overheard?”

“The walls here are rather thin,” she replied with a refined chuckle.

It wasn’t as if he had said anything shameful or immoral, yet Cedric’s face flushed again.

“Keep it a secret from others.”

“But of course. A client’s privacy is sacred.”

Technically, Angela had been in the wrong for overhearing.

But she had a knack for this sort of thing.

When something was amusing or endearing, she would “accidentally” let it slip, building a natural sense of intimacy.

“Come to think of it, these days, men who are delicately handsome and pure-looking are more popular than the rugged, rough types.”

She added that the new opera star was just that type.

“And so, many men have started taking care of their looks more carefully.”

“…Is that so?” Cedric muttered, feigning disinterest while inspecting his tuxedo on the mannequin.

But Angela knew better.

She had survived decades in high society, sifting truth from endless gossip.

She could tell Cedric’s ears were pricked to her every word, no matter how aloof he acted.

‘I suspected before, but these two are just too cute together.’

In lower circles, people whispered that Cedric was only using a commoner bride to break some kind of curse and gain access to the “Sanctum of Knowledge.”

Angela herself had wondered about that.

But seeing him now—asking outright if Ellia thought he was “pretty,” just to win her affection?

It was obvious. These two were hopelessly smitten with each other.

Keeping her composure, Angela held up a small box.

“By the way, Lord Cedric, you may not care much about these things, but why not try this the night before the wedding?”

“…What is it?”

Cedric asked, putting on his best act of disinterest.

Angela’s wrinkled lips twitched in amusement.

“It’s a ‘new groom’s secret weapon’ face pack. If you wear it overnight, your skin will look brighter the next morning.”

A secret weapon for grooms!

Despite himself, Cedric’s eyes flickered with curiosity.

“…So, it actually makes a difference?”

“Well, brighter skin makes your eyes look clearer, and your lips naturally more flushed.”

Cedric thought of Ellia—her luminous, porcelain skin, glowing both in sunlight and under lamplight.

Angela instantly knew what was on his mind.

It was a skill honed over twenty years of business.

She drove the point home.

“And wouldn’t it be natural to want to look beautiful in front of her—wherever, whenever?”