44.

The next morning, early at dawn, three carriages arrived at Valdemore’s mansion, sent from the Montrosa dukedom.

From inside the carriages, footmen wearing white gloves began stepping out, then started unloading gifts endlessly. In no time, the not-so-small drawing room table was completely covered with tiny sky-blue velvet boxes, and still not enough—chairs, couches, pianos, and even trolleys were all occupied.

Lore stared blankly at the endless line of servants carrying boxes, clearly unsure where to even begin. Normally, items delivered to a master could not be carelessly arranged by maids before the master’s confirmation… so ultimately, unwrapping all those packages would fall to her.

Given that this was a rushed wedding, she had agreed to at least appear as if the two were deeply in love. She had agreed, yes… but wasn’t this amount a bit excessive?

Lore numbly opened the nearest box and briefly wore a dazed, enchanted expression upon seeing the dazzling diamond necklace inside. …Snap out of it. You can’t give in here. She sharply tapped her cheeks twice with both hands.

Yet, if only everything ended at that point, it would have been a blessing.

“Milady. The young marquis has sent three crates of lace.”

“Where should I put this white lisianthus bouquet? He sent at least ten bundles.”

“The young marquis has filled an entire carriage…”

…By this point, she couldn’t tell whether he was trying to overwhelm her with gifts or genuinely move her. Every single item sent was of the highest quality, so she couldn’t just leave them lying around. Even if these luxurious items were being dumped carelessly, they were still technically wedding gifts.

Anna strained to cram all the newly arrived flowers into vases, struggling to fit them all, and said,

“At least he kept it to the bare minimum.”

“…This?”

This is the bare minimum? No matter how you looked at it, it was excessive, overflowing? Lore turned to Anna with an utterly disbelieving expression. But her maid merely shrugged nonchalantly, as if simply stating plain facts.

“It’s the union between Valdemore and Montrosa. This is only natural. Honestly, considering the prestige of both families, this is actually a bit light.”

“…This is not just natural, but actually… light?”

Lore let out a hollow laugh, utterly dumbfounded. Even if she had never properly received noble society education, this statement was hard to believe. When Lore eyed her suspiciously, Anna slightly averted her gaze. Something felt deeply suspicious.

Lore narrowed her eyes at Anna, then turned her attention to the sound of horse hooves coming through the half-open window. She silently stared out the window for a long while, then gave a half-hearted nod toward the outside.

“Then what’s that?”

“What is it?”

At her question, Anna came over and looked outside.

It was a carriage—four of them, all bearing the Montrosa crest. From inside, another wave of people began pouring out. If the earlier arrivals had brought gifts, this time it seemed as if every artisan related to wedding preparations had been summoned. Famous dressmakers, jewelers… among them, a few faces Lore recognized.

Anna stood frozen, momentarily speechless, then barely regained her composure to speak.

“…Now this feels more like what ‘bare minimum’ should mean.”

“Anna.”

“…Y-yes?”

One unnatural response after another… and she still couldn’t meet Lore’s eyes. Lore smiled gently. Having decided to live as the duke’s daughter to some extent, no matter what, she couldn’t start cursing outright.

“You took a secret payment from the young Marquis Montrosa, didn’t you?”

“…”

“Come here.”

“…”

“You’re not coming?”

* * *

The Duke and Duchess of Valdemore were overjoyed upon hearing that gifts had arrived from Montrosa. Most importantly, their daughter would no longer have to live and die alone, unmarried—that alone brought them happiness. However, upon hearing the wedding was scheduled in just ten days, their faces turned as if they wanted to scream.

High-ranking noble weddings were typically held in the bride’s family’s banquet hall, meaning Valdemore’s vast, long-neglected banquet hall had to be transformed into a wedding venue—in just ten days.

Under the urgent pressure of the butler and the head housekeeper, red velvet was laid across the banquet hall, decorated lavishly with lilies, lisianthus, and white roses—the family’s symbols. The enormous hall, transformed day after day as if it had always been used for such events, was fully ready in just two days.

The main wedding preparations also progressed smoothly. Thanks to the numerous artisans sent by the young Marquis Montrosa, the wedding dress, reception dress, and matching jewelry were completed in less than five days. Added to this were the special touches from a few master craftsmen personally sought out by the Duchess of Valdemore, making each piece so exquisite it could be called a masterpiece of the century without exaggeration.

Compared to ten days earlier, when nothing had been prepared, this was nothing short of a miracle.

And so, the wedding day arrived.

The white satin dress, intricately embroidered, fit the noble lady’s pale skin like a painting. Cut deeply at the neckline per the duchess’s taste, it accentuated her slender neck, and the densely set diamonds sparkled faintly with every movement. Over it hung a pure white veil. Simple, yet unmistakably radiating the aura of immense wealth poured into every detail.

Blair arrived early at the hall, took a quick glance at Lore in her dress, shook his head slightly, and disappeared. Though momentarily stunned by his audacity, Lore decided to be magnanimous.

She had chosen to live as Lea. Blair was part of the family she would have to live with for the rest of her life. Family. At the same time as she recoiled at the unfamiliar word, a pang of guilt stirred inside her.

She had been a pirate, surviving by taking things from others as a raider of the seas. Most often, that “thing” had been treasure, but sometimes, it had been someone’s life.

But Lea—the innocent noble lady who owned this body—had never tried to kill Rosetta, nor was she one of those fat noble bastards who enslaved orphaned pirate brats with no proper status. She wasn’t a pirate captain chaining runaway slaves to their ankles, nor a ruffian who randomly assaulted women.

…Right. What good is a pirate’s conscience? Anyone soft-hearted enough to care had long since sunk to the bottom of the sea.

She had survived stubbornly before—she could endure just as stubbornly now.

She didn’t know what fate was trying to show her, but sailors were all navigators who defied given destinies and carved their own paths. And Lore was confident she could read the stars, even without a compass.

The current situation was no different from being abandoned in the vast ocean blindfolded—but she would find her way again. As she always had.

“Milady.”

Anna, usually calm, called her cautiously, her face tense. After frantically braiding, lifting, and half-tying her hair, she finally seemed satisfied with the result.

“All done?”

“Yes. I think an updo suits you best after all. Here, take a look in the mirror.”

The maids standing nearby stepped back in unison, revealing the mirror. Lore turned only her waist to check her reflection.

Her hair, twisted up with white flowers in the style often seen in Eastern traditional attire, emphasized Lea’s delicate neck, creating an elegant and pure atmosphere. It matched well with the elaborately embroidered wedding dress. Clearly, it suited her… but still.

“…Was the style you did last time like this?”

“Oh, I made a small variation. Don’t you like it?”

Lore shook her head. If asked whether she liked it or not, she definitely leaned toward liking it… but this looked too much like something “Rosetta” would wear. Wearing such a hairstyle on Lea’s body felt a bit awkward. She glared at the mirror for a long time, then muttered a low “hmm” under her breath. By now, her hair was completely braided up, and there was no time left to redo it.

“…Never mind. It’s fine.”

Until she put on this dress, she hadn’t felt anything strange… but now, a vague uneasiness lingered. Husband. She had never even dreamed of such a thing before retiring, let alone that this husband would be Cardier Montrosa, the Eastern Retriever? If the riffraff from Toulon heard this news, they’d all flip.

Or perhaps they’d all applaud Cardier instead. For chasing after her like a dog and finally catching her. Lore suppressed the urge to chuckle and raised her head.

“…”

“…”

And then, her gaze met Cardier’s directly—he was standing at the doorway.