TPWSM 21

Chapter 21

At the word “jewelry,” the Queen’s slender eyebrows rose sharply.

Her greedy eyes swept smoothly over the surfaces of the boxes.

Meanwhile, Grand Duchess Alisa stepped closer to Davit and lightly touched his shoulder.

“I’ve heard that men in Dvorka often wear jewelry like necklaces and bracelets. You would stand out even without anything, of course, but since it’s a banquet, something dazzling would be better.”

With that, she reached toward the table and opened the third box.

“This is a brooch made of moonstone. I chose it because I thought it would suit your silver hair.”

The Grand Duchess picked up the brooch inside and reached toward him again, a radiant smile on her lips.

As her hand neared his chest, Davit straightened his back.

While she pinned the brooch onto the collar of his jacket, a peculiar tension filled the air.

The moonstone brooch, framed in platinum, shone with a milky-white luster, as though a winter full moon had been plucked from the sky.

“It really suits you. And this…”

This time, the Grand Duchess didn’t reach for a box but rummaged inside the sleeve of her dress and pulled something out.

What else was she going to give him?

Davit’s indifferent eyes turned toward it—
it was a ring.

In the center of a solid gold band sat a cabochon-cut amethyst, polished round to the size of a thumbnail. Its domed shape made it resemble a human eye.

“I saw your portrait from Pardon Island. Since your eyes were purple, I placed a custom order ahead of time.”

The Grand Duchess boldly took Davit’s left hand and slid the ring onto his middle finger.

Looking down at the transparent violet gleam, Davit thought of someone with similar eyes.

Melania.

‘She’d probably squeal with delight if she saw this. She loves anything that sparkles.’

As Davit’s stiff expression gradually softened, the Grand Duchess nodded with satisfaction.

“The rest of the jewels—I wasn’t sure of your taste, so I included a variety. Wear them depending on your mood.”

Was it really alright to accept all this?

He was grateful for her unexpected kindness, yet it weighed heavily on him.

He had never owned, much less worn, such ornaments.

Indeed, as she said, Dvorka men were fond of jewelry. He remembered the king visiting the harem when he was young, adorned with layered necklaces and bracelets.

Even Count Bogdan, the lord of Pardon Island, wore rings on every finger.

But Prince Davit himself had never owned even the thinnest silver band.

“All five boxes are for you, so keep them safe. They’re sorted according to gemstone hardness—make sure you put each back in its place after use.”

Closing the boxes, the Grand Duchess cast a sidelong glance at the Queen.

Davit also glanced at her.

A slight twitch tugged at the Queen’s lips.

It seemed she had expected at least one of the five boxes to be for herself, the mother-in-law.

But there was none.

“I’ll see you when we enter the banquet, Your Grace. And Your Majesty, the Queen.”

The Grand Duchess lifted her skirts gracefully and bowed.

Davit answered with a small nod.

Leaving behind a gentle smile, she departed with her maids in tow.

Her gait was as dignified and stately as her attire.

Davit stared quietly at the door she had closed.

“Oh ho, Davit. It seems your looks truly worked their charm.”

The Queen snapped open her feather fan and feigned surprise.

“Collapsing on your wedding night claiming illness must have roused her sympathy. She’s dipped her toes in, so don’t let her slip away.”

“……”

“I thought she had sharper eyes, but I’m a little disappointed. You’ve no special tie with Countess Bogdan either. Giving you riches to win your favor is the same game.”

Ha ha ha ha—

The Queen’s shrill laughter filled the antechamber.

Davit summoned Sir Kiril from outside the door, entrusted him with the boxes, and made his way to the banquet hall.

Were the many jewels just an attempt to win his favor?

He shook his head.

The Queen was wrong.

The Grand Duchess was simply carrying out the terms of their contract to the letter.

After all, the clause stating they must appear to live harmoniously together was written in black and white.

The wedding banquet was held in Barbika Hall, where the coronation had taken place the day before.

To the cheers and applause of the guests, Davit entered the hall alongside Grand Duchess Alisa, walking over the carpet.

Barbika Hall, decorated for the banquet, looked different from yesterday. With the ceremony seats cleared away, an immense space was revealed.

The air was filled with the fresh fragrance of flowers. Half the hall was adorned with Dvorka’s national flower, the blue cineraria; the other half with Levanteia’s national flower, the red anemone.

The banquet was a grand affair. Under the soaring ceiling, guests in garments dazzling as stained glass mingled endlessly.

Davit had never seen a banquet this crowded, with thousands in attendance.

He marveled at the scale.

‘It’s like combining twenty of Pardon Island’s drill fields into one.’

Even when he lived in the palace, he had never left the harem, so he hadn’t known such a space existed in Yorka Palace until the wedding.

He consciously squared his shoulders as he walked.

He needed to appear calm today, just as yesterday. To look natural as one half of a pair with the Grand Duchess, who held his arm.

“Your Grace, you seem a little nervous today.”

“…Do I?”

“Your shoulders are stiff as a mountain cliff.”

She whispered warmly by his ear, and her breath flushed heat into his earlobe.

Davit coughed lightly into his fist and loosened his shoulders.

He really was nervous. This was his first time at such a grand banquet—and he had to greet the guests as the host.

His eldest brother, Georgi, had given him a crash course in court etiquette before he left.

But without real experience, the pressure was heavy. How should he face the Levanteia royals and nobles, or the foreign dignitaries he’d never met?

“Your Grace is introverted, isn’t he?”

Davit could only nod.

He had never been the type to approach people first, nor was he gifted with words.

“Will you leave today to me? I already know everyone, and it’s just the usual conversations.”

He turned to look at her.

Under the glittering chandeliers of the hall, her smile exuded ease. She looked entirely at home in such a splendid setting.

The tiara atop her head sparkled so brilliantly it almost hurt to look at.

Her red hair blazed like fire, and her silver-gray eyes shone sharp and intelligent like honed blades.

She looked every bit the queen.

“I’ll leave it to you, Grand Duchess.”

Davit admitted honestly.

At least for today, he would have to rely on her experience.

The wedding yesterday had been easy—he simply followed the set order and recited the scripted vows.

But the banquet was different.

The crowd of yesterday now pressed in as individual guests, and conversation was unavoidable.

As the ducal couple stood at the center of the hall, dignitaries approached every few seconds to greet them.

The Grand Duchess took the lead in accepting gifts, offering thanks, and responding with grace.

“Your Highness.”

A middle-aged noble, four stars glittering on his epaulets, removed his hat and bowed.

“Welcome, Marquis Serenos. But why don’t I see Esteban? I thought we sent him an invitation.”

“He’s serving as an army doctor in the frontier, so letters reach him slowly. He likely hasn’t received it yet, so I’ll offer congratulations on his behalf.”

Just from the man’s green-brown uniform, Davit guessed who he was.

It must be Marquis Gonzalo Serenos, Levanteia’s Minister of War.

The thought was strange. Here he was, face-to-face at a banquet with someone who had once commanded enemy troops—bowing to him, no less.

Throughout the banquet, the Grand Duchess proved deft and experienced at handling people. She even responded fluently in foreign languages to overseas guests.

“…We struck gold in our territory too, but the vein wasn’t long…”

“…To adjust the unit price of blasting lasantium, how large must the orders be…”

“…Last spring the blacksmiths’ guild went on strike, so the supply of blades…”

Since Davit knew nothing of her business ventures, he couldn’t contribute to such topics.

Noticing this, she occasionally pulled him into the conversation.

“Ah, Count Roland. The moonstone brooch my husband is wearing now is from the new mine.”

“I had been admiring it already—so it’s moonstone. It suits His Grace’s silver hair wonderfully.”

“Thank you, Count.”

Davit replied as naturally as he could, though it felt awkward.

The state banquet was chaotic and exhausting. Names and faces flooded in, and he had to remember them all—it wore down his mind by the minute.

Even after three or four hours, the Grand Duchess maintained her smile, warmly greeting every guest.

This time, a black-haired woman—likely Eastern royalty—approached, and the Grand Duchess greeted her with delight.

“Welcome, Princess Fiore. How is Abel doing these days?”

Abel turned out to be her dog. Davit was quietly astonished—how could she know even the personal affairs of a foreign princess?

“Ah, and Your Grace is even more handsome up close. I can’t believe I never knew Dvorka had such a prince.”

Whenever Davit came up in conversation, it was always about his looks.

Given his background, it was natural—there was nothing else people knew of him.

But the more compliments he heard, the more unsettled he felt.

The Queen’s words echoed like a curse: that his beauty was all he had.

Suppressing the turmoil, Davit responded just enough while watching his wife closely. Her lips moved constantly, curving into a bright smile with every laugh.

Observing her, he reached a conclusion.

‘She’s truly nothing like me.’

Even when she laughed at someone’s joke, her laughter rang out clear and refreshing, like sparkling soda.

She seemed like a woman who had lived her whole life in the radiant sunlight, in the center of the stage lights.

‘…She really doesn’t suit me at all.’

He felt alien in this place, like a foreign object wedged where it didn’t belong.

Suddenly, he felt a prickling gaze.

About ten paces away, a man was glaring at him.

He was large, with spiky yellow hair and a sturdy build, dressed in a green-brown military uniform. Ordinary soldiers wouldn’t be allowed inside, so he must be an officer.

When their eyes met, the man raked Davit up and down with hostility.

‘Who is he, to look at me like that?’

Even while greeting guests, Davit couldn’t ignore the man’s gaze. He almost wanted to confront him directly.

“Ah, it’s hot. Your Grace, I’m going to step out for some air.”

After greeting what must have been the hundredth guest, the Grand Duchess now sounded slightly weary, her voice parched.

Davit watched her retreating figure.

‘Her throat must be dry from speaking nonstop. Should I bring her some water?’

Just then, a servant passed by with a tray of iced water. Davit took one and followed her.

She seemed headed for the terrace at the far end of the hall lobby.

It was right next to the host’s private room, a restricted area guarded by palace knights.

Davit quickened his steps. Truthfully, he wanted the excuse of giving her water so he too could escape the banquet for a moment.

As he greeted the guards, he noticed something.

The yellow-haired officer who had glared at him earlier was following her out onto the terrace.

Since the knights let him pass, he must have her permission to accompany her.

Remembering the man’s hostile expression, Davit felt uneasy. Could he also harbor resentment toward the Grand Duchess?

He approached the glass terrace doors.

Through the gap, he heard their voices.

“Alisa. If I’d known it would turn out like this, I wouldn’t have said that.”

“What do you mean, Mikel?”

“Your marriage. I was the one who said marrying a neighboring prince was fine.”

The atmosphere was tense. Davit froze at the door handle.

It even sounded like they were talking about him.

“…Yes. Your words became reality.”

“Alisa, it’s not fine. It’s not fine for anyone.”

“What isn’t fine?”

The man’s tone was deadly serious, but the Grand Duchess answered playfully.

They addressed each other by name—clearly familiar.

Davit recalled she had graduated from military academy. This man was likely a classmate.

“What’s not fine is you marrying another man. That’s what.”

At his words, Davit’s grip on the handle slackened.

He couldn’t interrupt, not even under the pretense of delivering water.

He stepped back from the door, though their voices still carried clearly in the quiet, restricted area.

Worried someone might overhear, Davit glanced around—
but no one was there.

“Mikel. Did you come to spoil the feast?”

“Alisa. I volunteered for the Blansk garrison.”

“What? Why in Dvorka’s remote border valley of all places?”

“Because it’s your land. Because that’s where you are. Where I can see you.”

“…Hey.”

Davit didn’t need to hear the rest to know where this was going.

Slowly, he turned away. This was not a place for him.

He looked down at the glass of cold water in his hand. The square ice had begun to melt, its corners rounding. Droplets beaded on the transparent surface.

Davit sighed.

He should go back to his place in the hall. So why couldn’t he move?

Why did he still want to hear their conversation?

“I’ve always liked you. Since the day of our military academy entrance ceremony.”

“…So what’s your point?”

“I want to be your lover.”

The confession was bold—so bold that Davit’s head turned back instinctively.

Through the glass, he could faintly see the scene.

The man knelt before his wife, gazing up at her with eyes full of aching devotion under the tender moonlight.