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Chapter 43
“So it’s true then.”
“I apologize, Your Majesty.”
Unable to restrain her curiosity, Irisril gently wrapped her arms around Rudiger’s arm, speaking in a playful, affectionate tone.
“Your Majesty, what’s going on? Please don’t strain yourself.”
“I told you to be quiet.”
Rudiger did not even try to hide his annoyed expression, and roughly shook off the arm she had clung to.
In most situations, a lover’s rejection would be hurtful and upsetting. But Irisril showed no such emotion at all.
At that very moment, the crumpled urgent report in Rudiger’s hand slipped and rolled to the floor.
I need to see it.
As the would-be empress, thoughts of dignity or propriety didn’t even cross her mind. Irisril immediately dropped down and crawled, grabbing the report and checking its contents.
There were only two lines written on it.
And one of those lines was meaningless filler:
“To His Great, Noble, and Beloved Majesty, blessed by the light. With utmost loyalty.”
So in truth, only one line carried meaning.
That single line—the one that had shaken Rudiger so deeply and made Irisril restless with anxiety—said this:
“Bellaxina Autevain is getting married…?”
Hearing Irisril confirm the contents aloud once more, Rudiger’s anger surged like a visible storm.
“How dare she…”
To Rudiger, Bellaxina was a nightmare of a woman.
A vile villain who deserved to die, a traitor who trampled the dignity of the imperial family for mere money. To him, she was less than an insect.
In other words, someone who deserved to die.
Or at best, someone whose miserable existence did not matter at all.
But she dared—she absolutely dared to get married. That was unacceptable.
You’re my fiancée.
Even if he could abandon Bellaxina, the reverse could never be allowed.
No matter how broken things had become, Bellaxina was still his woman. She had stood by his side for nearly twenty years.
“……”
Memories—some pleasant, many not—flooded in like a waterfall.
But all of them were still part of him.
Therefore—
“I will not permit it.”
Bellaxina Autevain is mine.
In the days leading up to the wedding,
Bellaxina did not spend most of her time tied to a chair… well, not exactly.
Since wedding preparations involved heavy input from the bride, people came and went constantly asking for her opinions.
And no matter what, she couldn’t exactly appear bound in front of servants while acting as the future lady of the estate. So she was spared the misery of being tied down all day.
For Bellaxina, it was a relief.
Even if Avelkin attended every single appointment with her.
“Ehehe, you two are such a loving couple! It’s obvious from how the Lord follows you everywhere, no matter where you go.”
And every time she heard comments like that, her expression twisted in ways that were hard to describe.
Bellaxina suppressed a painful sigh and forced a smile.
“Yes. He… tends to be like that.”
“How enviable! After all, what matters more in marriage than that?”
A twitch ran across her cheek. Her forced smile felt like it might shatter.
“Stop saying useless things and bring the next item.”
“Oh my, are you shy? That was careless of me. Let me show you the next one.”
The woman, seemingly delighted, continued laying out lace patterns, asking her to choose, offering opinions on veil lengths, and filling the time with chatter.
“Then we will proceed as instructed.”
“Yes, do that.”
Bellaxina cooperated with everything.
Of course, choosing a veil she would never wear wasn’t exactly enjoyable.
Neither was selecting bouquet designs or discussing multi-course meals with chefs.
But those people had to remain if she wanted to sit properly instead of being bound by golden restraints.
And Avelkin was not unaware of her intentions.
“I think it would be best to send everyone back now. You look tired, and it’s nearly mealtime.”
Bellaxina attempted a small resistance.
“No, I’m fine. There’s nothing tiring about joyful wedding preparations.”
“Everyone, leave.”
“Yes, my lord!”
But the difference in power was absolute.
No matter what Bellaxina said, a single word from Avelkin sent everyone out without hesitation. Naturally irritating, but unavoidable.
“Looks like the Lord wants some private time. How nice for you.”
That final comment, too, was enough to make her want to kill someone.
Once they were alone, Bellaxina sighed.
“…You’re going to tie me up again, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
So blunt.
Bellaxina grumbled and tried negotiating again.
“Can you at least do it after dinner?”
“No. It’s dangerous.”
“What is?”
“Forks, knives, spoons. Do I need to explain further?”
“Spoons are fine! Spoons!”
Bellaxina burst out in frustration.
“You don’t understand. Spoons might be the most dangerous of all.”
She had no idea what kind of logic could make a spoon the most dangerous weapon, and she didn’t even want to ask.
It felt like Avelkin genuinely saw her as some soft custard pudding or something similar.
“Am I some kind of criminal? Even criminals aren’t treated like this! Tied up so tightly they can’t move at all—anyone would go crazy!”
“It’s only for a few days.”
Avelkin didn’t even blink at her exaggerated protest.
“Endure it.”
Bellaxina knew just how meticulous he was, and how seriously he was taking this.
“My lord, dinner has been brought.”
It was Ingrid’s voice.
“Leave it there.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Ingrid left the serving cart outside the door without question.
It had become routine over the past several days, nothing unusual anymore.
But inside that closed room, something far beyond Ingrid’s imagination was happening.
A married couple everyone believed to be enjoying an intimate, loving dinner were in reality…
“Open your mouth.”
“I hate mint.”
“It’s not mint, it’s parsley. Open.”
“Aah—!”
A strict jailer and a complaining prisoner. Or a caretaker feeding a suspicious animal. Or perhaps a stern father feeding a picky child.
“Swallow it.”
Avelkin watched closely as he fed her pasta wrapped around a fork, monitoring her chewing as though she might secretly try to spit it out.
As if she were attempting to starve herself to death by refusing to eat pasta.
What on earth is this…
At first, his gaze was so intense she thought she wouldn’t be able to digest anything. But after repeating this every meal for days, she had grown somewhat used to it.
“Water, please.”
“Of course.”
Aside from being completely bound and unable to move, it was oddly comfortable.
It only became awkward when others thought this was a loving couple enjoying a wedding-prep dinner.
Meanwhile, Avelkin stared at Bellaxina chewing her food.
Where did it go wrong?
At first, it had simply been a matter of utility.
Bellaxina had the exact conditions he needed—easy to obtain, low cost, no hesitation required. That was why he chose her without a second thought.
But when he finally had her, she had thrown herself from a moving carriage.
She valued her life less than her pride. He had never imagined someone like that existed.
It had shaken him enough that he still sometimes dreamed of it.
After that, he tried everything to keep her under control.
Sometimes harsh, sometimes lenient, trying to adjust and align with her as best as he could.
I thought things had been improving lately.
Negotiations with Mantova, and everything after that as well.
He had introduced Bellaxina to Yeshken carefully and effectively, helping her integrate into the region.
And hadn’t their relationship been slowly improving too? Or was that just his illusion?
“Haah…”
“Why are you sighing?”
Because nothing makes sense. Because you’re eating so well. Because there’s no solution to this endlessly repeating cycle of a relationship.
And because the only solution I can think of is physically tying you up.
None of these truths could be spoken aloud.
So Avelkin answered with a different question instead.
“How do I keep you by my side?”
