Chapter 1

A milky-white satin dress flowed over my entire body, with intricately woven lace cascading down in waves over it. The pearlescent shoes peeking out from beneath the full skirt were absolutely lovely. Not the rough, durable brown cowhide shoes I wore every day, but supple lambskin with a beautiful sheen. I looked at my reflection in the full-length mirror standing before me.

‘A wedding dress!’

I raised my hand and lifted the veil draped over my head. The bride in the mirror was unmistakably me, not some other woman. My usually dull platinum hair gleamed with luster, and my colorless cheeks were flushed a soft pink. And my violet eyes could hold their own against any jewel. Rare and radiantly beautiful.

‘I’m actually getting married.’

I wore the wedding dress, yet I had no idea who I was marrying. No, wait, had there ever been a man I loved? Just then, the reflection of a man in a black formal coat appeared in the mirror. His height and build were too large to be fully contained within the glass.

‘Something smells wonderful.’

The crispness of mandarin and cedar mingled with the elegant warmth of almond tonka bean. Unless he were an opera singer or a dandy, he wouldn’t have spritzed on perfume, so it had to be the kind of scent you’d only catch from a fine handcrafted soap. And then he moved toward me. He approached slowly, his footsteps measured but not heavy.

‘Beautiful.’

His warm breath, laced with admiration, spilled over my skin.

‘Ah!’

A strange moan slipped from me before I could stop it. His lips, like a brand pressed into flesh, grazed my slender neck, and every sense I had seemed to melt away. My heart hammered wildly, yet my body grew languid, a strange contradiction. Without thinking, I leaned into his broad shoulders and lifted my arms to wrap around his neck. I didn’t know who he was, but the flutter rising in my chest wasn’t unwelcome.

‘I’ll make you mine.’

His hands began undoing the buttons of the dress I’d worked so hard to put on.

‘!’

The ceremony was about to begin, so this was entirely unexpected. Unlike me, flustered and uncertain, his hands moved without hesitation. He pressed fierce kisses against my exposed skin. Then a large hand closed around the soft curve of my flesh. His brazen touch made my vision swim, and embarrassing moans spilled from between my parted lips, one after another.

I should have begged him to stop, pleaded with him to pull away, but instead I found myself biting down hard on my lower lip. Unable to hold back any longer, I surrendered my body to him. Even knowing this wasn’t the time or place, his hands roaming freely over me weren’t something I wanted to resist. No, I grew curious. About his face.

‘I want to see you.’

I couldn’t marry a man whose face I didn’t know. I gently turned my head to look at him.

‘!’

His face was blurred. There was only his distinctive scent and presence. His face refused to come into focus. Then his cold hand cupped my cheek.

‘Live inside me forever. That’s the only way you’ll be safe.’

‘Can I be happy too?’

‘It’s not hard.’

‘?’

‘Just don’t betray me.’

His tone was cold, but the lips pressing against mine were hot and heavy.

***

The road leading to Woodvil was well maintained. The ornate gas lamps stood in neat rows, and the trees lining the path were immaculately kept. Whoever had been pruning them had done so at the right times, because not a single branch drooped or tangled. The roadside was so clean that not a scrap of litter could be found.

“Rivet.”

A husky but gentle voice pulled her from sleep.

“Mother Superior.”

She opened her eyes to find Hilda’s wrinkled face looking back at her.

“Did you fall asleep?”

“Yes, it seems so.”

The carriage was still swaying around her. She had closed her eyes because of her severe motion sickness, and somewhere in between, she must have drifted off. And on top of that, she’d had a strange dream. More precisely, it was the same dream again. For some time now, things that weren’t byproducts of her own desires had been appearing in her dreams.

“Have you been drinking?”

Rivet asked in a low voice, eyeing Hilda the Mother Superior.

“My throat was dry…… The Lord himself permitted wine. You know that well enough.”

“The problem is that it wasn’t wine.”

Rivet lifted the hem of Hilda’s robe to search for a bottle, and the furrow between Hilda’s brows deepened. But there was no bottle anywhere. She seemed to have hidden it well in advance, anticipating exactly this.

“You brewed spirits, didn’t you? Was it bilberry wine? When did you make it?”

“I told you, it was wine!”

Hilda clicked her tongue and shook her head. All the while, she was desperately avoiding Rivet’s gaze.

“Your lips are completely blue. Every time you breathe, there’s a sharp, murky smell coming off you. You added bilberry leaves too, didn’t you? It hasn’t fermented long enough, so the raw smell is strong.”

Underfermented spirits could cause headaches and stomachaches from the hangover, so the worry was only natural.

“Good grief! That nose of hers.”

Hilda shuddered dramatically, clearly not wanting to hear any more of Rivet’s scolding.

“Bilberries are so good for the body. They’re a gift from the Lord.”

“They are. But drinking them as spirits isn’t always a good thing. People with high blood pressure, like you, Mother Superior, really should avoid alcohol.”

That was what worried her most. She would soon have to part ways with Hilda, and once back at the convent, every night or whenever she went out like this, Hilda would drink like a horse let loose from its reins.

“Regardless, that nose and palate of yours, you were born with them. What a tiresome way to live. You ought to learn to let some things slide.”

“You must be relieved now, aren’t you? No one left to nag you.”

Rivet pushed her slipping glasses back up, her lips pressed into a pout.

“Goes without saying.”

Hilda answered gruffly. A moment later, a heavy ache settled in her chest and she turned her face toward the window. She had raised Rivet like a daughter from the age of five until now, at twenty-two, and the coming farewell was not easy.

“Rivet, you’ll do well. You’ve always had more patience than anyone.”

“‥….”

“The work of a governess, without patience……”

Before Hilda could say more, Rivet took her hand and held it tight. Rivet’s violet eyes were glistening, weighed down by the parting that was drawing near. Hilda reached over with her other hand and patted the back of Rivet’s.

What more needed to be said. Even without being told, Rivet had always taken care of herself from a young age. Just then the carriage stopped, and the coachman called out loudly.

“Everyone out! We’ve arrived at Woodvil!”

Rivet startled and looked toward the window. They had finally arrived at Woodvil, the Grand Duke’s residence. Without even a moment to linger with Hilda, she was swept out of the carriage.

“Is this Woodvil?”

Rivet gazed at the stone building constructed from marble. Once called the winter palace of the old Kingdom of Velus, it was smaller than the main royal palace but larger in scale than the average noble’s estate. Spruce trees formed a dense barrier around the residence, and in place of a garden, a wide lawn and a fountain made a striking impression. The romance of the old winter palace had faded, leaving behind nothing but the plain name Woodvil.

“Yes, it’s the Grand Duke’s residence now, but in the old days, it was where our king would spend each winter sheltering from the bitter cold. There used to be such a beautiful garden, but it seems those Levia lot tore it all down.”

Hilda clicked her tongue repeatedly, clearly displeased with the bare lawn. Just then, an elderly gentleman came out from the residence to greet them.

“Welcome, Mother Superior.”

“It’s been a while, Henry.”

An awkward smile spread across Hilda’s face, the same face that had just been cursing those Levia lot moments ago.

“His Highness the Grand Duke is waiting. As is Lady Julia, of course.”

Butler Henry spoke to Hilda while quickly looking Rivet over. But Rivet’s gaze remained fixed on the grand residence. A marble building that brought to mind a temple, with mythological figures carved into every column and expensive velvet curtains draped across every window. There were probably white lace inner curtains layered behind them. It was a far cry from the convent, which had nothing but plain wooden shutters and no curtains at all.

“Let’s go in, Rivet.”

Hilda’s voice brought Rivet’s gaze back.

“Rivet, this place is as safe as God’s fence, so don’t make a bad impression and work hard.”

God’s fence was what people called the Montes Convent. It was something Hilda said so often it had become a habit, and Rivet nodded reflexively. In Velus, a vassal state of Great Levia, there was no place safer than the Grand Duke’s residence. Even so, comparing it to God’s fence felt like something of an exaggeration.

“Don’t be nervous. There’s no need to tremble.”

“You’re the one trembling, Mother Superior.”

Rivet looked at Hilda, who was shaking while holding her hand. Hilda, always so calm, was more nervous than Rivet, who felt nothing in particular. But the nerves quickly gave way to awe. Stepping inside, the old glory of Velus was palpable. Masterwork paintings covered the high ceilings, and the lobby was adorned with expensive sculptures and carefully tended plants.

Butler Henry led the two of them to the drawing room. With guests arrived, a maid brought out refreshments as a matter of course.

“Mother Superior, weren’t we here to meet the minister? I thought I heard someone say His Highness the Grand Duke just now.”

“It seems the Grand Duke hasn’t yet accepted the position of minister of Velus. The post is vacant, so it appears he’s here temporarily.”

Well, accepting the ministerial post in Velus wouldn’t have been easy. Two ministers had already been assassinated. Rumors were rife that not only the imperial family of Great Levia but even the nobility were reluctant to take the position. And yet the Grand Duke of Great Levia had come to Velus all the same, which was admirable, in its own way.

“There was no one willing to come to Velus, so the queen must have pushed her own nephew into it out of desperation. Otherwise, the Grand Duke isn’t the sort to come of his own accord.”

‘Not courage then. More like being forced into it.’

Rivet smiled bitterly and was about to take a sip of her tea. The drawing room door opened, and the butler’s voice rang out.

“His Highness the Grand Duke.”

Both women set down their teacups and rose to their feet. Only then did a flutter of tension settle in Rivet’s chest. Meeting someone outside the convent, someone who wasn’t a woman, was naturally nerve-wracking. And this was the Grand Duke of Great Levia, no less. Even so, Rivet tried her best to appear composed. But the moment the man appeared before her, she realized it was a futile effort.

“Percy Impea.”

His voice was young but carried weight. He greeted Hilda with full courtesy. Hilda was, after all, one of the most respected religious figures not only in Velus but across several nations.

‘Percy Impea.’

Rivet repeated the Grand Duke’s name to herself. She could think of nothing else. He commanded the entire space and every gaze in it. The man in the black frock coat surveyed his surroundings with the sharp intensity of a fierce black panther. He was beautiful beyond what the word handsome could capture, yet he radiated a force so strong it felt impossible to approach.

“!”

The Grand Duke’s gaze, which had swept over both women, finally settled on Rivet.