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Chapter 12
Words swirled around inside my mouth, but not a single one managed to come out.
Only then did I realize that when you’re truly shocked, you become incapable of speaking at all.
The only response I could barely manage was this:
“What?”
What I wanted to ask was, What on earth are you talking about? But the emotional turmoil had dulled my ability to speak, and it showed no sign of recovering anytime soon.
The man asked, absurdly politely,
“Do you dislike the idea?”
“It’s not even a matter of liking or disliking it—I’m just too shocked. To begin with…”
…we’re nothing to each other.
The moment that thought crossed my mind, the panic inside me settled a little.
The man standing before me was the older brother of my dead fiancé—the same man who had suddenly appeared with some unheard-of letter right after his brother’s death and proposed marriage.
And here I was, trying my best to remain polite to him.
What kind of woman did he think I was?
A pathetic older sister who struggled desperately to become Empress only to have everything stolen away by her younger sister? The useless burden of House Bartoli who couldn’t do anything properly? A lonely woman starved for affection?
And what about now? A child I had never seen before had suddenly been delivered to someone else’s house and introduced as my child.
“…Young Duke, you’re making me feel utterly miserable.”
“Pardon? Lady Bartoli, what exactly do you mean by—”
“Did I look easy to you because I quietly endured having a cheating fiancé? Do you usually go around carelessly poking at people’s wounds and promising marriage as if it means nothing?”
It would’ve been better if my voice hadn’t trembled at the end.
The fabric of my dress was crumpled horribly in my clenched fist. Ridiculously enough, tears threatened to spill out. Even after hearing those things from Father this morning, I hadn’t cried until now—and yet a single sentence from this man nearly broke me.
Fortunately, by forcing my eyes wide open, I managed not to cry.
After a long silence, the man spoke quietly.
“I was thoughtless.”
The plain apology, offered without excuses, softened me slightly. It didn’t help that he wore such a sorrowful expression on that unfairly handsome face.
Then he continued.
“To me, this wasn’t sudden at all. So it never even occurred to me that you would be shocked.”
“…What?”
What did that mean?
“First, let us clarify one thing. You no longer intend to marry that damned Crown Prince, correct?”
“Excuse me? Y-Yes, that’s true, but…”
Did he just casually insult the imperial family?
“And previously, you said that the only man in your life was your fiancé. Now that your fiancé is dead, there is no other man who holds your affections. Is that correct?”
“That’s… true as well.”
I asked hesitantly,
“Did I ever tell you I no longer cared about becoming Empress?”
“No. But after seeing you try to save your sister a few days ago, I became certain.”
Ah. Of course.
If Leoni died, my chances of becoming Empress would rise dramatically.
From his perspective, it must have looked as though I had casually thrown away the dream I had pursued my entire life.
Without realizing it, I lowered my head and bit my lip several times.
But what could I do? It was true.
I let out a small laugh.
“I’m trying to stop being foolish now.”
“How is that foolish? If a man wishes to become your husband, then naturally he ought to be at least the Emperor of the Empire. Lady Bartoli deserves to have the greatest man in the world.”
…What?
Startled, I looked directly into his eyes.
His gaze was utterly sincere.
My entire life—obsessing over the position of Empress just to earn Father’s love—was overturned so easily by a single sentence from him.
Suddenly, I almost laughed.
What was this man even saying? Listening to him made it sound as though I were some judge evaluating men for husband qualifications.
Owen ta Glentino continued, maintaining unwavering eye contact.
“But look carefully, my lady. I’m at least a hundred times more handsome than the Crown Prince.”
“Pfft!”
“I’m taller too. And in better shape.”
The Crown Prince was already considered very handsome.
Still… I had to admit it. If one judged by the combined score of face, height, and physique, there was probably no man in the Empire who could defeat Owen ta Glentino.
But still—
“Aren’t you embarrassed saying that about yourself?”
“At a time like this, I need to gather every advantage I have. A little embarrassment hardly matters.”
So he was embarrassed.
Despite that perfectly calm face.
Unaware that he had just accidentally shown off another charm—being unexpectedly cute—Owen asked seriously,
“Wouldn’t you say the balance evens out this way? I may not be Emperor, but how about a Duke? I am technically in the line of succession to the throne as well. And if you wish, you could even make me Emperor—”
“Don’t say things that’ll get you arrested for treason! Wait… you inherited the dukedom?!”
I asked in shock.
In my previous life, the one who inherited the title of Duke had been the third son of House Glentino.
The future had changed again.
Maybe it was because the Duke’s funeral had happened earlier this time? In my past life, Arnold had died much later, and the Duke’s funeral had taken place about a month afterward.
“Why are you so surprised? As the eldest son, it’s only natural that I inherit it.”
Because in my previous life you threw that natural right away!
Of course, I couldn’t say that out loud, so I brushed it aside awkwardly.
“Well… you didn’t seem interested in things like that.”
“I wasn’t. Originally.”
He acknowledged my words quietly.
Then he briefly explained the situation within the ducal family.
“In truth, my father passed away quite some time ago while bedridden. Even so, we delayed announcing it publicly and postponed the funeral because the issue of succession had not been decided. My youngest brother and I had no desire for the title itself, but we both agreed that Arnold absolutely must not inherit it.”
Ah, I see now.
That explained why both the timing of the funeral and the successor had differed from my previous life.
Back then, all three Glentino brothers had still been alive, and they had fought much longer over who would inherit the title. Eventually, the eldest and youngest brothers had formed an alliance to drive Arnold out, allowing the youngest brother to become Duke.
Which left only one question.
Why, in this life, had Owen inherited the title instead of the youngest brother?
As if sensing the curiosity in my gaze, he lightly picked up his teacup before setting it down again.
Almost like someone nervous.
“In the end, my youngest brother probably would have yielded the title to me. I was confident I could persuade him. But…”
At that moment, his eyes turned toward me.
“Now I have a reason to want it.”
The way he looked at me while saying he had “something he wanted” made my heart beat strangely for a moment.
No. Stop that.
He said he wanted the dukedom—not me.
Still, I carefully asked,
“And… what reason is that?”
As though the answer were obvious, he replied,
“Because now there’s a child. If we’re going to raise our child, it’s better to have power.”
“Why do you keep saying ‘our child’?!”
“Because it is our child.”
Why did he keep treating it like an established fact?!
I raised my voice before letting out a long breath.
None of this made any sense.
I could understand my side of things, considering it was my sister who caused this mess—but what about him?
More than anything, Owen ta Glentino possessed everything imaginable: status, looks, talent. He was the kind of man one would believe was blessed by God himself.
And yet, in my previous life, he had never married. I’d been certain he was someone who intended to remain single forever.
So why, in this life, was he suddenly proposing marriage for such an absurd reason?
Especially now that he had inherited the dukedom.
If he had truly decided he wanted to marry, wouldn’t it make far more sense to choose a woman without scandal attached to her?
Someone other than me—someone noble and elegant, in the proper aristocratic way.
“…Are you really okay with such a hasty marriage?”
Yes. Hasty.
That word fit perfectly.
Noble marriages were normally elaborate negotiations involving political alliances and family power struggles.
Not proposals made while casually eating raisin cookies.
“Is that how you see it?”
“Isn’t it? Your younger brother sends a ridiculous letter, leaves you with a child, and then you decide to marry me—his former fiancée—to raise that child together.”
“Yes. To be honest, I consider it an opportunity. And to be even more honest, Lady Elouise… I feel grateful to you.”
He paused briefly.
“That is, if saying so upon our first real meeting is not too rude.”
