45.

Cardier appeared far more composed than any image she might have imagined. His blond hair, usually left artfully disheveled, was slicked back neatly with pomade, and his impeccably worn black frock coat resembled a masterpiece carefully completed by a grand master.

Yet, on Cardier’s face, there was no trace of the nervous smile or flushed cheeks commonly seen on grooms.

That dissonance stood out paradoxically in the current moment, as everyone who looked at him was utterly spellbound. Isn’t his expression just a bit too blank for someone madly in love, rushing into marriage and skipping all formal procedures within ten days? Even Rosetta, who had only learned etiquette superficially, thought so—so it must have been glaringly obvious to the other nobles.

Ro glared at him pointedly and called out.

“Cardier.”

He had stood motionless at the doorway, not even twitching an eyebrow, but at Ro’s call, he finally seemed to regain awareness, meeting her gaze precisely. Yet it lasted only a moment. His eyes quickly returned to her hairstyle, floral adornments, and necklace—as if he couldn’t bear to look away even for an instant.

Well, if one strained to understand, it wasn’t entirely inexplicable. Following aristocratic customs, they hadn’t seen each other for nearly ten days, and thus hadn’t shared a single step in preparing for the ceremony.

So naturally, seeing her fully dressed in her wedding gown for the first time might be astonishing. He’d never seen Lea’s hair styled in the Eastern fashion, either. Still, the question remained: was it really necessary to act so utterly dazed?

Ro gave up trying to understand and shrugged her shoulders upward.

“Well? Do you like it?”

“…Yes.”

Cardier answered only after a long pause. If he had simply been momentarily stunned by her beauty, it would have been a more comprehensible reaction. But his demeanor felt strangely lukewarm. Ro grumbled under her breath. Had she not known him well, she might seriously have suspected him of being impotent. Indeed, the title of “Diamond Cake of the Social Circle” didn’t seem to be bestowed without reason.

“I sent you countless necklaces.”

Deliberately distracting herself from his persistent gaze, Ro momentarily failed to catch his words.

“…What?”

“I emptied every famous jeweler in the capital. I also sent several skilled craftsmen.”

“….”

“So you could have whatever you wished.”

He lifted his deep, ocean-blue eyes to meet hers. So that’s why he was acting so dazed—it seemed to be about the necklace. Ro traced the necklace with her fingertips. At first glance, it was an ordinary piece with a small sapphire. For a high noble’s wedding, it was somewhat modest.

…So why had she chosen this one? It resembled a necklace she often wore in her previous life, but the gem attached wasn’t an ordinary sapphire. It was Lerm. Known as a crystallized remnant of ancient magic, a talisman of the sea. Pirates believed Lerm protected them from storms and shipwrecks, helped identify traitors, and brought only luck in gambling.

Though, considering she had worn a Lerm necklace constantly in her past life only to be betrayed and killed by Nick in the end, it probably was just superstition. Still, she couldn’t possibly explain all that now.

Ro wrinkled her nose.

“I just… liked this one.”

And in that moment, something indescribable flickered in Cardier’s blue eyes. He strode toward her in quick, heavy steps. Ro instinctively tensed her body—his presence was so intense she half-expected him to pull her into an embrace or push her back.

Yet he stopped just short of her. At a distance where she could clearly feel his trembling breath.

He clenched his fist tightly, then uncurled it, and cautiously brought the back of his hand to her cheek. He lightly brushed along the curve of her cheek, barely touching. He gently smoothed the wavy strands of hair by her ear. Only then did Ro realize how badly Cardier’s hand was trembling.

He was so lost in thought he hadn’t even considered composing his own expression.

“….”

“….”

Remaining silently like this, without a single word, gradually began to make her uneasy.

“What? Don’t you like it?”

Ro hunched her shoulders and glanced at the mirror once more as she asked. It looked fine to her, but her aesthetic sense only extended to instantly distinguishing expensive items from cheaper ones. Cardier shook his head slightly to the side in response.

“It’s just…”

“Just what?”

“I’m happier than I thought I’d be…”

“….”

“And it still doesn’t feel real…”

He couldn’t even finish his sentence properly—clearly, he was unlike his usual self. Ro firmly stepped on his shoe with her heel. A silent command to snap out of it.

“What exactly are you saying?”

“Just… happy.”

But seeing him say it with such a vacant expression, he definitely wasn’t in his right mind. He seemed completely dazed, repeating “happy” twice like that. His gaze now resembled how the previous-life Rosetta used to look at him. She raised her shoulders slightly in pride, yet strangely, her heart fluttered.

Even though he wasn’t marrying her because he was dying of love.

“You…”

Just as Ro couldn’t hold back and opened her mouth, footsteps approached rapidly.

“Mistress, Young Lord.”

“….”

“The Archbishop has just arrived.”

The attendant, clearly rushing to find them, gasped out the words. Cardier shot her a slightly annoyed look for interrupting. He gestured with his chin for her to leave.

Then he turned back to Ro, his expression once again gentle.

“What were you about to say?”

“…Never mind. Nothing.”

Ro shook her head. Whatever it was, it wasn’t an appropriate question to ask right before the wedding. Cardier gave a faint, unimpressed smile and extended his hand toward her.

* * *

The wedding ceremony was held quietly, presided over by the Archbishop, attended only by family elders and a few close associates. Normally, such an event would take at least two hours, filled with lengthy Scripture readings and doctrinal responses, but most of the elaborate rituals were omitted under the pretext that the bride had not yet fully recovered. This was also thanks to the strong influence of both families, who were eager to stamp the marriage contract as quickly as possible.

Thanks to this, Rosetta was able to change into a more comfortable reception dress in under an hour. The suffocating corset remained, but she breathed a sigh of relief knowing she no longer had to worry about stepping on her train, which trailed at least thirty centimeters behind her.

At first, truly.

If the wedding’s opening act was a tedious reading before the Archbishop, the real ordeal began afterward—the endless reception. Ro had to respond to endless congratulations, be led around by the Duchess to greet guests, pretend familiarity with strangers while offering champagne, and occasionally dance a waltz when a familiar tune played.

She had smiled so artificially that the corners of her mouth trembled, and her feet, clad in heels, had long since gone numb from pain. After two hours of this, she almost wished she could return to the wedding hall.

Rosetta, having just finished a waltz with some viscount, leaned against the wall to catch her breath. Seeing her deathly pale face from a distance, Cardier dismissed those around him with a glance and approached her. He gently took her arm and asked,

“Are you alright?”

…He hadn’t been visible among the crowd—when had he even seen her? After calling him a bastard, a damn bastard so many times, it seemed he truly thought of her as some kind of beast. At least when it came to noticing things about her. Ro weakly nodded.

“I’m fine.”

“You look pale.”

He said, carefully cupping her cheek—his touch as delicate as handling a fragile, exquisitely crafted artifact. For some reason, a tingling sensation crept up her nape, and Ro grasped his wrist, pulling it down. Though his wrist was too thick for her small hand to fully encircle, Cardier obediently yielded to her force.

“Enough. People are watching.”

“You can rest if you want to.”

“Tell the host of the reception to step away? How casually you speak.”

Cardier’s expression twisted with concern.

“So what if you do?”

“You want me to get caught in more scandal? If I disappear, tomorrow’s gossip sheets will say we’ve got three kids already? Maybe one of them isn’t even yours.”

“…I’m just telling you not to get sick.”

Cardier flipped her hand and instead wrapped his palm around her forearm. As he opened his mouth to say more, footsteps approached. It was the Duchess of Valdemore.

“What are you two doing here? His Imperial Highness the Crown Prince and Her Imperial Highness the Crown Princess have arrived.”