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Chapter 6
“Thank you for visiting.”
“I appreciate your hospitality.”
The Grand Duke wearing a silver mask arrived at my room accompanied by Daniel. For the eldest daughter of a marquess’s household, the room was endlessly modest—almost shabby. Yet I greeted them gracefully, without the slightest intimidation from its appearance.
Today, my room had been decorated with white and pink flowers resembling hibiscus.
“This flower is….”
Daniel’s eyes flickered with interest as he seemed to recognize it.
“It’s tea and snacks.”
The maid’s face turned pale as she pushed in the tray. Soon, tea and refreshments were placed before me and the Grand Duke. The snacks were the fruit of those flowers.
Flowers… as snacks?
When I had given the order earlier, the maid had gone pale.
“No! How can we serve something eaten by common laborers to His Grace the Grand Duke? He’ll think it’s a joke!”
“I don’t intend to hide a single thing about my situation from the Grand Duke. My room, my usual way of life, everything will remain as it is. And that ‘fruit’ is something I often eat.”
It was almost laughable. The very snack deemed unfit for a guest was something Anette usually ate.
If it was obvious how poorly I was treated in the Poshet Marquess household, then the Grand Duke would likely take pity on me—and loosen his guard at least a little.
The poorer I appeared, the better. It would make the reason for my goodwill toward him easier to understand.
And that “fruit” I had asked the maid to prepare—it was, in truth, my strongest card.
The Grand Duke looked at me intently.
I knew you’d find this interesting.
“I spent a long time thinking about what to prepare for you, Your Grace, so I brought this food.”
Crunch.
Without offering it to him first, I bit into one of the fruits.
A sweet yet strangely ambiguous flavor spread through my mouth. Like cotton candy, yet slightly off.
This was definitely not an ordinary fruit.
“Cotton flowers are said to be one of the most precious blooms, easing the cold of the people. I’m happy I can present their fruit at my first tea time with Your Grace.”
Food and cotton wool—those were exactly what the Grand Duke wanted in this political marriage.
“I imagine you’ve been inconvenienced staying in a campsite instead of being hosted in the mansion. Please let me know if there is anything you require. I will handle it in my name.”
Darius let out a scoff.
“Even my encampment with tents looks more spacious and refined than this room.”
“That’s correct. The Marquis treats me so poorly he’s forgotten I’m still growing every day.”
I smiled without wavering at his obvious mockery.
“So isn’t this precisely the moment when I can use the name of the marquess’s eldest daughter? Thanks to Your Grace’s visit, I finally have something resembling authority.”
I pushed the bowl of cotton flower fruit toward him.
It was not difficult to imagine what expression lay beneath the silver mask.
This was something that grew abundantly in the mild southern climate, but could not be obtained in the North—the very thing they desired so desperately. The cause of wars between North and South to obtain it. The only hope in the freezing Northern winters.
I pretended to hand him the cotton fruit and whispered:
“What doesn’t last after being consumed isn’t what matters. What if I gave you what you truly want, Grand Duke?”
“What I truly want?”
Darius’s hand covered my fingers as I held the cotton fruit. He tightened his grip unintentionally, squeezing my hand hard.
Ow.
But even in pain, I didn’t lose my smile. Yes. Exactly what you’re thinking.
Unlike the first dinner, he actually ate in front of me.
Before fully ripening, cotton fruit has a sweet taste. Farmers sometimes eat the unripe cotton fruit as a snack when they get tired during harvest. That’s why the maid had called it “something only commoners eat.”
How petty, for the marquess’s household to deliberately serve cotton fruit before it ripens, just to mock Anette.
It might be amusing once as a prank, but it was nothing compared to real desserts.
Could you imagine Caitlyn or her younger brother Simons being served cotton fruit as a snack?
Thanks to this, I found a way to earn the Grand Duke’s favor without detouring.
In the era of the previous Inkheart Grand Duke—Darius’s grandfather—the North even launched territorial wars to obtain cotton grown only in the South. Considering the harsh Northern climate, southern cotton must have been more precious than anything else.
But they lost, and from then on, the Poshet Marquess family of the South and the Inkheart ducal family of the North became sworn enemies.
And I was now hinting that I could provide them with the very cotton that once drove them to war.
Seeds and cultivation methods.
Wouldn’t it be far more profitable to grow cotton permanently in the North than to transport carts full of it from the South?
If I’m not mistaken, the Grand Duke will come to me tonight.
Unofficially. Secretly.
Knock. Knock.
As if answering my thoughts, a knock came at the door.
Already?
It was still too early for midnight.
With anticipation, I opened the door—and immediately felt disappointed.
“This is a snack sent by the Grand Duke.”
It was Daniel, the Grand Duke’s knight. He was holding a basket of sweets.
“He said today’s tea time left a strong impression.”
So instead of being impressed by my humble cotton fruit offering, he sent a whole basket of snacks in return.
“I should say thank you, but I’m not pleased.”
At my words, Daniel’s gentle smile froze.
“Please tell the Grand Duke this: the snacks are sweet, but my feelings upon receiving them are not.”
I knew it was rude, but I immediately slammed the door shut.
The neatly wrapped basket fell to the floor.
“I know exactly what I’m saying.”
A simple polite exchange with the Grand Duke wasn’t enough. Even if I did nothing, this marriage would proceed smoothly.
What I needed was enough favor to avoid the inevitable annex residence after marriage.
I needed to leave a stronger impression on him.
So he could no longer think of me as a mere extra.
That night, I woke up.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
A low, steady knocking sound irritated my ears.
At this hour, it would either be an assassin or a thief.
But what kind of thief would knock so politely?
…No way.
Perhaps thinking this was enough of a greeting, without waiting for my response, the window suddenly opened.
“You have a strange habit of using windows as doors.”
Ha. My lips curved upward on their own.
“If one intends to have a secret conversation at a secret hour, this is the most suitable entrance.”
“This is the second time you’ve entered without my permission.”
“And once again, I apologize for my rudeness.”
Smooth talker.
Moonlight poured down behind him as he stood in the window, making him almost blinding to look at.
Ignoring the fact that he was in nightwear, I seated him at the table. Candlelight flickered unevenly.
He smelled cold and fresh, as if he had just come in from outside. It wasn’t unpleasant—rather, it woke the mind.
“Once we’re married, I feel like I’ll be interfering with many of your habits, Your Grace.”
Things like your picky eating habits—or entering rooms without permission.
It was a joke to start the conversation. He immediately cut in.
“Are you truly going to betray your territory?”
Cotton seeds. What the North desperately wanted.
As part of this marriage contract, the marquess’s family had agreed to provide enough cotton for half the Northern population.
Cotton was warmer and more durable than thin cloth. But even it wore down after years of use.
The freezing North was always desperate to clothe its people warmly, alongside securing food. Because of this desperation, the South deliberately controlled cotton supply.
There was another alternative: leather. It was warmer than cotton, but game was not always available, and it was even more expensive.
If the North could grow cotton themselves instead of importing it…
Behind the silver mask, Darius’s eyes were bloodshot.
“You are the eldest daughter of House Poshet.”
“As you said, I am. I carry your family’s crest and will marry into your house. After that, I will belong to you.”
I would marry as a daughter of the Poshet family and become the wife of Inkheart. I understood what that meant.
“The curtains are worn, and even the guards in this house are so lax you can enter freely. As you must have noticed, let me ask you this: do you think I am loved or valued in this household?”
The Poshet family treated Anette like a disposable horse.
That was why Anette died so easily, abandoned without anyone to help her.
This was a world built for the protagonists Darius and Evangeline.
Did it matter why extras died? The story was too busy telling how the main characters lived.
But for me—
It mattered. Because this was now my life.
I don’t want to die. No matter how, it would hurt. Even if I died in my sleep, I would still struggle to breathe.
Even after sleeping for nights, I still didn’t wake up in a dream.
Unfortunately. The panic I had after possession—trying to leave this body—was because I still hoped it might be a dream.
But no matter how many days passed, every time I opened my eyes, I was still in Anette’s bed, and in the mirror was a pink-haired girl who looked unreal, staring back at me.
She looked at me, and I looked at her.
