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Chapter 06
Psyche went straight to visit Count Erisichton.
It was an unannounced, rude visit—and an act that practically invited gossip and made herself fodder for public scrutiny.
But she had no time to worry about trivial matters.
The future awaiting her in the mire terrified her more than a ruined reputation. Better to be ridiculed as a loose woman unfit for marriage than to watch her life collapse entirely.
“Ha ha. To think Miss Psyche, known as the Swan of the Sigar Empire, would come in person.”
The man before her was once a hero of war.
Born an illegitimate child between a noble and a commoner, he had later been acknowledged by his family and distinguished himself through numerous campaigns, becoming one of the contributors who helped build the prosperous Sigar Empire of today.
The current emperor had recognized his achievements and granted him a title and borderlands.
That man now stood before her.
“I’d heard many rumors and wanted to meet you myself. As expected…”
Trailing off, the marquis of the borderlands swept his snake-like gaze across Psyche’s face.
She was astonishingly beautiful. The rumors surrounding her were a severe understatement.
Behind long lashes, pink eyes disappeared and reappeared. The harmony between her blush-colored irises and pale skin resembled the radiance of a living deity. She was beautiful enough to rival the goddess of beauty herself.
Ignoring the count’s appraisal of her appearance, Psyche got straight to the point. She knew all too well the meaning behind the looks men like him gave her.
“Please cancel the contract. I’m asking you.”
“A contract? Ah, are you perhaps referring to Doctor Pascal, whom I sponsor?”
“Yes.”
Psyche nodded slightly.
Then the marquis’s gaze moved from the line of her face to the exposed curve of her neck.
When no objection came from Psyche, his sticky stare lingered and slid lower with even more boldness.
Psyche bit her lower lip and clenched her fists tightly under his blatant scrutiny.
She wanted to get up and leave immediately.
To make matters worse, despite her lack of permission, the marquis casually addressed her by name.
But Psyche had come here with a purpose worth enduring humiliation for.
“The contract has already been finalized, so cancellation would be difficult. However… perhaps I could negotiate with Miss Psyche and adjust our differences. What do you think?”
His gaze roamed over her as he continued speaking.
“I suppose what worries you is money.”
“…”
Without warning, he rose and stepped closer to her.
Whether from war injuries or not, he dragged his right leg with a limp.
“Would you grant me the honor of accompanying me on Saint Peter’s Day?”
Then he politely knelt before Psyche and extended his hand.
Only then did Psyche fully understand his dark intentions.
He wanted her.
Whether he desired one night with her or wanted her as a person, she could not yet tell. But one thing was certain:
He did not seek her heart.
It was common.
Psyche was called the most beautiful woman in the Sigar Empire.
The noble swan of the empire. A solitary flower struck by hardship.
Countless embellished epithets all referred to Psyche Clement.
“Miss Psyche.”
But while everyone desired her beauty, none wanted her heart.
The reason was simple.
No one wanted to take responsibility for her.
“…I can solve every concern weighing on your mind.”
Psyche looked down at the marquis slowly.
He was long past the age of marriage. Men his age were already married with perhaps two children.
Yet the marquis remained unmarried.
No—more accurately, he had repeatedly been married, briefly and often, only to become unmarried again.
All because his previous marriages had failed.
“This is a reasonable choice for both of us.”
Listening to his cold voice, Psyche’s fingers twitched. One more reach toward his hand and she would be dragged into the swamp.
“You seem to be misunderstanding something.”
“Miss Psyche, misunderstanding?”
“This may be reasonable for Your Excellency, but for me it is profoundly unfair and unreasonable.”
She folded her hands neatly, straightened her back, and raised her chin—just as her father had advised, never to forget the dignity expected of a noble.
“I understand your intentions. However, when your seal was sent, my father—the head of our house—was unconscious. My mother was also mentally unstable and incapable of sound judgment. As evidence, she has undergone psychological counseling several times.”
As determination replaced the gloom on Psyche’s face, the marquis withdrew his hand and slowly stood.
The pink eyes once dimmed regained their original brilliance and shone radiantly.
“This incident was entirely the maidservant’s independent action. I bear great responsibility for failing to manage my household staff properly, but I hope Your Excellency will forgive us generously… The imperial family likely does not desire a major scandal either.”
Psyche smiled faintly as she added the final words.
Seeing the marquis hesitate, she realized her polite warning had reached him.
“Miss Psyche. I am the hero who delivered the peninsula called Kun and its surrounding territories to His Majesty the Emperor. As proof, this estate, these lands—even the name Erisichton itself—were granted personally by His Majesty. On whose side do you think the emperor would stand?”
The marquis glared at her angrily. His voice cut through the air like a threat.
“You’re an unmarried young lady. Naturally, you’re unfamiliar with how the world works. I understand. The world isn’t as simple as you think, Miss Psyche.”
Despite his lecturing tone, Psyche showed no sign of backing down.
If anything, her gaze grew even more certain.
“Is that really so? Haven’t you already married several times, Your Excellency?”
Her gentle voice lingered in the bleak silence.
Strangely, her tone carried a force that captured attention. Whenever Psyche spoke softly, her words held an uncanny persuasiveness.
“The imperial family won’t remain silent forever.”
Her determined voice emerged with unmistakably noble poise.
As proof, the marquis’s expression twisted.
He hated nobles.
More precisely, he despised noblewomen, and his wives had often become targets of that hatred.
His disturbing habit of deliberately marrying women from fallen noble families likely stemmed from this.
His wives disappeared or died for various reasons.
The imperial family had remained silent because he was a decorated hero, but silence could not last forever.
The marquis knew this too—that was why Psyche’s words unsettled him.
I never thought reading newspapers would help in this way.
Whenever Psyche sold embroidery she had sewn or locks of her own hair, she stopped by the capital square.
She always bought newspapers from children shouting special editions.
Partly out of pity. Partly out of sympathy.
And partly because of the job listings printed near the end.
Her father, Viscount Clement, repeatedly insisted she should never engage in work unbefitting a noble lady.
Still, someday—perhaps someday—those job listings might become necessary.
“Ha! Then try it. We’ll see whether things go as you wish. A sheltered young lady dares challenge the world without knowing how frightening it is.”
Psyche finally looked away from the still-boastful marquis and said:
“…It seems leaving for the frontier wasn’t enough for you.”
That was her last remark.
Indeed, the moment the marquis lost his leg, he had lost much of his usefulness.
The border territory he guarded was considered dangerous, a place its lord could hardly leave.
To the emperor, the marquis had likely become someone no longer useful but still deserving of minimal courtesy.
Psyche disliked hurting another person’s pride.
She believed no one’s sense of self should be damaged.
Just as she wished to be respected, she believed others deserved respect.
That was her principle.
But principles meant little before survival.
If the marquis sought to protect his pride, then Psyche sought far more desperately to protect her life and her family.
Even if her dignity and pride were trampled countless times—
Her life itself could not be allowed to collapse.
