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Chapter 2
The First Night
The doll princess had beautiful silver hair.
Her long hair swayed gently in the wind. It should have tickled her face, but she didn’t seem to care.
How long had she been waiting?
Standing for that long, her legs must have ached.
But there was no sign of it.
“Are you Sir Cliff?”
His gaze, which had been stolen by her, shifted.
An elderly man stood beside her.
A neat black suit and a red bow tie—an exemplary butler’s uniform. The moment Cliff saw him, he understood.
It overlapped with the girl’s expression, and he could sense exactly how rigid this man was.
‘Ah… he’s got that old-man vibe.’
He could almost hear it already.
From somewhere in his memories—those historical dramas—voices saying, “Your Majesty, you must not do that!”
Since he had been addressed, he answered.
“Yes. I am Cliff.”
Just as he had received the girl’s portrait, they must have received his description as well. A messenger had also been sent ahead.
That was why they were here to greet him.
“You’ve had a long journey. This is Lady Priscilla Elimis, the eldest daughter of Baron Elimis.”
“I am Priscilla. I am honored to be able to serve my new master closely starting today. I lack much, but I ask for your guidance going forward.”
Along with the butler’s introduction, he finally heard the doll princess’s voice.
Contrary to her words, there was no joy in Priscilla’s expression.
Nor did she seem nervous. That was what made it strange.
And then her words—
‘Wow. So this is what it sounds like in real life.’
As mentioned before, noble marriage—especially for women—was a major affair.
It was less a relationship between husband and wife, and more like master and servant.
The husband was the wife’s lord and instructor. That was the traditional noble view of marriage.
And of course, in practice, “instruction” often meant “discipline.”
Although recently, even central nobles were starting to move away from such customs…
‘Is this place isolated enough that traditions are just outdated?’
Maybe in Elimis territory, this was still considered modern etiquette.
No good. Cliff decided he would establish a new kind of marital relationship here.
“Even before the official marriage, it seems the lady will require some instruction.”
He deliberately furrowed his brow and pointed it out.
Priscilla’s expressionless eyes widened slightly.
It was the first visible sign of emotion from her. But nothing more than that.
Instead, she lowered her head politely.
“I’m sorry. I am still inexperienced and untrained, and I’ve already committed a great discourtesy. Please, I ask for your guidance.”
“…Here it is.”
Again, “guidance” meant corporal punishment.
And, absurdly, the old butler produced a disciplinary rod from somewhere and presented it.
‘Old man, weren’t you from the Elimis household?’
So he really was that kind of old man.
Priscilla’s fingertips trembled slightly at the sight of the rod.
Cliff shook his head.
Of course, he had no intention of hitting her from day one.
“If someone makes a mistake out of ignorance, punishing them with a rod is something only uncivilized barbarians do.”
“I apologize.”
The butler lowered his head, embarrassed, as if he had become the barbarian.
Good.
Cliff had landed a small blow on the old man.
“People should be taught with words first, not rods.”
“I will keep that in mind.”
Surprisingly, Priscilla seemed rather earnest.
Their eyes finally met properly. She quickly lowered her gaze as if it was improper to look directly at her husband, but her eyes were clearly beautiful.
“When a wife greets her husband returning home, she should welcome him with a kiss. And when he leaves, she should also send him off with a kiss.”
“…Eh?”
Her eyes widened even more.
She looked up at him, unable to look away this time.
Really?
Her expression had turned into that of an innocent girl asking exactly that.
A stark contrast to her earlier calm demeanor. Cliff’s lips curled slightly upward.
He puckered his lips exaggeratedly.
“Come on, quickly. Mwah.”
“C-Cliff, in front of everyone…!”
There it was.
The old man’s objection.
Cliff had expected it, but it came faster than expected.
“Precisely because everyone is watching. Nobles must be examples to others. We have a duty to demonstrate proper married life. You understand?”
Of course, it was nonsense.
But this was an isolated territory.
Here, the lord was law.
And although Baron Elimis still existed, Cliff was practically the acting ruler now.
‘The Iron Chancellor said I didn’t need to worry about the father-in-law.’
He trusted the Duke’s handling.
So Cliff implemented it.
A personal romantic fantasy of his had now become “proper etiquette.”
Since his words weren’t entirely baseless, even the old butler hesitated.
“Well, then…”
Priscilla glanced around nervously, then seemed to resolve herself.
She stepped closer.
A faint floral scent reached him—probably bath oils.
Chu.
She stood on her toes and kissed him in front of everyone.
A soft, warm touch on his lips, then gone.
‘So this is a kiss!’
Strangely, he liked it.
Even more so was Priscilla’s completely red face.
“Th… th…”
She short-circuited.
“Well done, Lady Priscilla. Next time, you just say ‘Welcome back’ or ‘I missed you.’”
Teaching her “proper etiquette” was already entertaining.
“W-welcome back.”
Her embarrassment was her burden.
“Cough.”
And the embarrassment of watching it fell on everyone else.
The old butler cleared his throat loudly.
“Please, this way. We have prepared dinner, lodging, and bathwater for the acting lord.”
* * *
It is often said medieval hygiene was terrible—and that wasn’t wrong.
But nobles were different.
Nobles enjoyed bathing.
Most noble homes had bathtubs, filled by servants with heated water.
Flowers were added as bath additives.
However, the flowers differed between men and women.
Women used fragrant flowers to perfume their bodies.
And for noblemen…
“Well, I would normally attend you myself, but I am still young, so I’ve prepared a different flower. Please enjoy your bath.”
Priscilla gestured to a maid beside her.
“My name is Anna, master.”
Yes.
For men, the “bath flower” was a woman.
“Stop!”
Even Cliff, when he had lived in the ducal household, had never received such bath service.
He was only a half-member of the Duke’s family—a bastard, not a pure noble heir.
So while he had just shamelessly stolen a kiss earlier, exposing himself naked to a stranger was still embarrassing.
“I was hoping my first bath flower would be my wife. I can bathe myself, so Miss Anna may leave.”
“Oh my.”
The maid reacted with surprise at his “sweet” excuse.
And so, once the maid left, Cliff entered the bath alone.
“Haah…”
The hot steam rising from the water relaxed his exhausted body.
By the way, soap did not exist in this world.
Instead, there was something that served the same purpose.
‘This sticky, slightly creepy feeling…’
Whether for men or women, baths used another additive besides flowers.
Slimes.
Specifically, Blue Slimes.
They were less toxic than green slimes and harmless.
They lived in water and were sensitive to temperature. If placed in hot water like this, they melted and died.
But—
‘While alive, they absorb waste, dead skin, and dirt.’
As they melted in hot water, their usefulness actually increased.
A very effective soap substitute.
“Ugh.”
Occasionally, when they passed over sensitive areas, it gave a creepy sensation—but they did clean the body well.
After washing his body, he even washed his hair with a nearly-dead slime.
No foam, but his hair felt refreshingly clean.
“Hmm… I should get out soon.”
He yawned as drowsiness set in.
If he stayed longer, he might actually fall asleep.
He got out, changed into light clothing, and followed a maid to the dining hall.
A banquet had been prepared for him.
‘…This is more effort than I expected.’
Calling it a banquet was generous—it was modest.
Still, compared to what he had lived with at the ducal house, it felt even more so.
“I suppose this counts as a feast.”
“Thank you for saying so.”
Priscilla was there again, back to her original doll-like expression.
‘To change that expression…’
Cliff looked at the long rectangular dining table.
A typical noble setup.
He was seated at the head.
It was actually his first time sitting at the head of the table.
‘But I also have my own romance.’
There was some distance between him and Priscilla.
“Hm… the food is good, but the table is a bit lacking.”
Flinch.
This time, it was the old butler who reacted first.
“The table is lacking… in what way?”
“Yes. Let’s switch to a round table from now on.”
“Pardon?”
“A round table. Families should be round and harmonious.”
The butler looked confused.
Cliff continued while eating.
“Of course, I don’t mean we should change it immediately. It may take time. But I’d like us to eat at a round table before my wife becomes an adult.”
The butler started sweating.
“Sir, that is…”
“I’m not interested.”
“…Pardon?”
The strange phrase confused him further.
Cliff smirked inwardly.
‘Ah… I shouldn’t be enjoying this.’
This was his real personality.
At the ducal house, he had suppressed it all his life as a bastard.
But here, there was no need to restrain himself.
He had power now.
And power felt good.
“Pff.”
A sudden laugh came from the side.
Cliff turned.
Priscilla was covering her mouth, her face slightly red—caught smiling.
Her usual doll-like expression remained, but her eyes trembled.
As if she had something she must not reveal.
Cliff’s lips curled upward.
‘I really like this territory… and this bride.’
And so the first night after dinner arrived.
In this world, there was no formal wedding ceremony.
Engagements were made before adulthood.
And once the man became an adult, he would go to the woman’s house and take her.
Most women left home at sixteen or seventeen.
‘So technically, we already started being a couple the moment I arrived.’
And so—the first night.
Cliff and the slightly shy Priscilla were naturally expected to share a room.
However, even in this world, there were rules resembling “protection laws.”
What does that mean?
…They only held hands while sleeping.
But then—
Was it just his imagination, or had something strange already begun to appear?
