The Maid's Contract Marriage (1 Chapters Left to Complete) - Chapter 5
“Isn’t this a matter concerning Your Grace’s honor? What more could you possibly lack? Isn’t this precisely the moment to flatly reject Julius and send him packing?”
Tristan spat out the words, clearly irritated.
“There’s still value in using him.”
Arthur continued calmly.
“I need a foundation. This place will make an excellent base.”
Tristan’s face twisted at Arthur’s infuriatingly generous appraisal of Julius.
“But the Imperial Family is here, and so is ‘Roas’! Wouldn’t they be far more trustworthy than Julius, who forced a sham marriage upon you? How can you possibly claim this place will be a good base because of someone like him…?”
“Because it’s the homeland of the people I trust most.”
Tristan’s impending complaint abruptly died on his lips.
Arthur took a bite of an apple and, rummaging through the fruit basket, continued.
“Besides, my honor lies with you all—not with Julius. The greatest honor and pride I have is having returned alive alongside you. Someone like Julius can never tarnish that honor.”
Tristan, who had remained silent, finally turned his head away with an exasperated sigh.
Their commander-in-chief occasionally dropped such remarks as casually as if they meant nothing.
Despite having the Imperial Family backing him, he insisted this place was his most trustworthy home simply because it was theirs.
Had any other noble said this, Tristan would have dismissed it as smooth, insincere flattery—but having spent the last five years alongside Arthur, he couldn’t belittle Arthur’s words.
Arthur was a man who proved his words through actions.
And the fact that Arthur always counted Julius’s soldiers—those who had shared life and death with him—as the people he trusted most was their greatest source of pride.
“…I suppose I’d better keep my wits about me so as not to disgrace Your Grace.”
Arthur chuckled softly and replied, “Don’t worry. Just keep doing what you’ve always done.” Yet Tristan understood.
The war was over.
And this place was no longer the battlefield they had conquered.
A new battlefield now awaited them.
One where the valor and martial prowess they’d once relied on might not be of much help.
Frustrating as it was, Tristan wasn’t entirely blind to why Arthur claimed he needed Julius.
“The apple’s fine. Go ahead and eat it.”
Tristan caught the apple Arthur tossed him in his palm and asked,
“…What do you plan to do?”
At Tristan’s question, Arthur leaned back against the chair and murmured,
“Hmm. Maybe I’ll meet my ‘real wife’ first and decide then.”
Tristan polished the apple against his sleeve and grumbled softly,
“A ‘real wife’? Please. She’s probably just some woman who married in for money anyway.”
Arthur merely shrugged his shoulders, still smiling.
[This is the timeline separator]‘This can’t be happening. It simply cannot be. How can I become a Prince-Elector? How can I have obtained this position?’
Marquis Julius was on the verge of losing his mind with fury.
The ink from the imperial and papal seals on the document certifying his status as Prince-Elector hadn’t even dried yet.
His portrait—still unfinished—had barely received the elegant inscription beneath his chest: “Princeps Elector Imperii” (Prince-Elector).
[This is the timeline separator]Julius was one of the Empire’s foremost grand nobles.
He ruled over the continent’s most fertile lands and headed a marquisate whose wealth surpassed even the Imperial Family’s.
Though he had faced resistance from aristocrats who scorned merchant houses, once he became universally acknowledged as the Empire’s greatest tycoon and rose to the ranks of the grand nobility, no one dared ignore him.
Yet even Julius of the golden purse—whose wealth could procure anything on the continent—had long craved something he could never obtain: the title of “Prince-Elector.”
A Prince-Elector was a noble granted the right to elect the Emperor.
Typically, the Emperor would designate an outstanding heir among his children as Crown Prince, and the vassal lords would respect his legitimacy, thereby ensuring a smooth succession.
However, should the Emperor die without an heir, or if the designated successor’s ascension was deemed unfeasible, the Prince-Electors would convene, deliberate, and vote to select the next Emperor from among themselves.
Thus, Prince-Electors stood just below the Emperor—
a title of power granted only to the most honorable and exalted nobles.
Prince-Electors were always held to the highest standards of public virtue and renown,
for they occupied the very seat from which the next Emperor might one day emerge.
Forty years prior, when the previous imperial line had ended without issue, the current Crown Prince’s grandfather, Emperor Alexander Lusayk II, had risen from the ranks of the Prince-Electors to claim the throne precisely through this method.
He had been a knight beloved by all Imperial citizens—a noble hero who led the Empire to victory in war.
All subjects naturally expected this young hero to ascend the throne, and the Lusayk house, along with the honorable Prince-Electors, answered the people’s call.
Through this decision, the Prince-Electors further elevated both the people’s support and their own prestige.
It was at that very moment that Ronald Julius—the Marquis Julius of his generation and grandfather of Christina—first felt a flicker of that unfamiliar emotion called “envy,” despite having walked his own path as the Empire’s wealthiest man without a care in the world.
Such perfect exclusion!
He’d once pushed through legislation—via golden bribes—exempting noble houses with only one male heir from conscription, and during wartime had shamelessly dodged his duties without a hint of embarrassment. Yet watching everyone else reap the glory of victory while he was left out stirred regret and jealousy within him: maybe he should have joined in after all.
Still, even then, he hadn’t seriously considered sacrificing his wealth for honor.
After all, his creed held that fame won through war brought only financial loss and scars.
Of course, with such fertile lands, even if a marquis showed no interest in war, war would inevitably find him—but that’s a tale for another time.
The real trouble began afterward.
To others, “Julius the Self-Serving” had clearly lost face.
Ronald Julius, the Empire’s richest magnate, had suffered the shocking humiliation of being repeatedly rejected by noble ladies he secretly admired.
Initially, most rejections came in polite letters: “Thank you for your interest, but I must respectfully decline,” or “Our family customs seem incompatible with your intentions, so I must respectfully decline.”
But when even families he considered “a tier beneath him” rejected him, Ronald Julius flew into a rage and made numerous gaffes in public.
After that, his rejections escalated to outright insults: “I’m not so desperate as to sell my dignity,” “I refuse to associate with such a materialist,” and even “It’s a disgrace to receive a proposal from you”—all of which ended up published in gossip sheets, bringing him profound shame.
Soon, the noble circles turned rejecting Ronald Julius’s proposals into a kind of sport, and even the shameless Ronald Julius himself grew dizzy from such humiliation.
The knight Alexander Lusayk II, cheered onto the throne, gained power surpassing Julius’s own,
and Count Diloa—the perpetually cash-strapped margrave—seized the massive mining venture Julius had long coveted.
Yet despite his immense wealth, Ronald Julius couldn’t secure a marriage, suffered endless humiliations, and lost the lucrative enterprise he was certain he could have managed far better.
Only then could Julius finally see his situation clearly.
Among the Empire’s highest-ranking grand nobles, Julius alone had not become a Prince-Elector.
And that was because the Julius family bore an unsightly history—infamous as the embodiment of the proverb “the rich are greedier,” with their founder’s notorious stinginess staining their name.
Most Imperial citizens believed “Julius” had wealth—but no honor.
And without honor, one could never become a Prince-Elector.
Julius, who had believed he possessed everything, found himself utterly destitute in this one regard.
After recognizing this truth, Ronald Julius began striving to erase his dishonor.
For a born miser like Julius, this was no easy path.
Gaining honor cost vast sums of money, and maintaining dignity demanded numerous obligations.
So much had to be sacrificed for seemingly no reason at all.
It was even harder when the list of things not to do outweighed the things one should do.
His past “list of disgraceful remarks” further shackled his progress.
Ultimately, the then-Marquis Julius, Ronald Julius—burdened by too much dark history—passed away without fulfilling his dream,
and only with his son Antonio Julius and granddaughter Christina Julius did the family’s decades of effort finally bear fruit.
Yet even that achievement came only after they struck gold by marrying their only daughter off to the Emperor’s illegitimate son—a marriage deal that finally placed the Julius name on the long-distant Prince-Elector list.
[This is the timeline separator]“Wow! Never thought I’d live to see a day like this! A victory-celebration charity festival hosted by the Marquisate!”
“Here, try some of this! Can you believe such food exists?”
“Whoa! Do the Marquis’s family eat like this every day?”
The marquisate’s citizens tore into whole roasted pigs set up in streets and plazas, laughing and clinking mugs in boisterous toasts.
“Gah! This beer is incredible!”
“Oh, more’s coming!”
Barely had the pork bones been cleared away than steaming-hot roasted turkeys arrived.
Endless carts of meat dishes rolled out, and crowds swarmed the tables, grabbing food and drink without restraint.
People poured, drank, and street artists leisurely sketched the lively scenes while munching on meat.
“But what about Sir Arthur? Did he really meet Miss Christina?”
“Hey, you were at the Triumphal Plaza, right? Hear anything?”
A few among the food-focused crowd momentarily regained their senses and raised scattered questions, but most concluded like this:
“Oh yeah, they definitely met! But I couldn’t hear well—might’ve misheard. Maybe it’ll be in the news? Hey, more drinks! Wine, I think! Hurry, get in line!”
People rushed to queue up as they saw the Marquisate’s servants arriving with carts stacked full of oak wine barrels.
Of course, both the war hero’s triumphal procession and the reunion of the century’s most talked-about couple were fascinating—but when faced with an endless feast before them, food naturally took priority.
Chronicle scribes from the temple and newspaper journalists, arriving late, lamented missing the key moments but hurriedly recorded the festive atmosphere instead.
【 Sir Arthur arrives earlier than expected; reunites with Lady Christina Julius… 】
【 Julius hosts a grand victory banquet across the entire district… 】
[This is the timeline separator]The encampment for returning troops, set up before the Julius domain.
Having completed an impromptu tour of their suddenly festive territory, Marquis Julius and his wife followed knightly escorts toward Commander-in-Chief Arthur’s tent.
Though enormous quantities of food were being delivered even into the military camp, the atmosphere was markedly different from the streets.
Some soldiers occasionally drank and ate, but the mood remained subdued and somber.
When they spotted the Marquis and Marchioness approaching Arthur’s tent under knightly escort, the soldiers either shot them cold, contemptuous glances or openly sneered.
Some ignored them entirely after a brief look and returned to polishing their weapons; others even spat at their feet.
Not a single soldier offered them any courtesy.
More seriously, no one attempted to rein in this atmosphere.
While the Marquis’s face flushed crimson with rage, his wife’s grew steadily paler.
‘Please, let my husband recognize this warning sign…!’
At last, they reached the Commander-in-Chief’s tent.
“Your Excellency. The Marquis has arrived.”
Seeing the knight leave them standing outside while seeking Arthur’s permission to enter, the Marquis—furious to the tips of his hair—shoved the knight aside and stormed in.
His wife, failing to whisper a warning into his ear, followed him in panic.
Just as Tristan inside the tent moved to stop the Marquis with his blade, Arthur raised a hand to halt him.
“Don’t, Tristan.”
The weapon, about to shove the Marquis’s chest without mercy, halted with sharp precision and withdrew.
The Marquis glared murderously at Tristan before forcibly dragging his eyes away, gritting his teeth as he growled toward Arthur.
“…Sir Arthur.”
Arthur rose a moment late at the Marquis’s call and offered a plain, calm smile.
“Your Grace.”
The Marquis wore an ambiguous expression—impossible to tell if he was smiling or merely baring his teeth.
The moment Arthur nodded for Tristan to step back, the Marquis spoke.
“What is the meaning of this behavior?”
Arthur, still smiling as if bewildered, merely arched one eyebrow.
“That’s what I’d like to ask you. What exactly is going on here?”
The Marquis’s eyes widened at Arthur’s audacity.
“What?”
Arthur continued.
“Has my wife gone missing during this time? Why are you presenting another young lady instead of my wife?”
“…!”
The Marquis’s mouth fell open, words failing him.
He hadn’t expected Arthur to openly confront him about this matter.
He’d assumed that even if both sides tacitly knew the truth, they’d quietly revert things to normal with nothing more than a forced smile.
He’d thought Arthur must have impulsively blurted something foolish earlier in front of the crowd and was likely regretting it by now.
“You… you.”
How could he do this—bearing the Julius name himself—unless he truly intended to drag them both down in ruin?
Unable to contain herself, the Marchioness stepped forward.
“Sir Arthur.”
Arthur’s gaze shifted to her.
She spoke with deliberate composure.
“That girl is your wife—Christina.”
Arthur smiled without even blinking.
“Don’t you recognize your own daughter, Marchioness? I told you—she’s not the woman I married.”
The Marchioness’s voice rose sharply in protest.
“That girl is Christina! The finest lady in high society!”
―――――
*Roas: A viscount’s family. A humble noble house said to have adopted and raised Arthur.
When scheming men desperately battle for her favor in the male harem
This one’s also on my reread list! The rivalry, scheming between the men in the imperial harem are just as intense and thrilling as in classic palace drama novels, where concubines fight to the death. Give it a read, girls! I promise you won’t be disappointed.
Synopsis:
“I am not worthy of her… but I still want to be by her side, even if only as a loyal dog…”
Those were the painful whispers of Yue Guanyi – the proud Crown Prince of the Great Qi, who was torn between deep love and a guilty conscience. Despite holding the supreme power of the Imperial Guard, he still could not forget the dark past when he was sold into a brothel.
Fate played a cruel twist when Qiu Shuzhi – a young female official who had just passed the imperial examinations with top honors – stepped into his life. She did not know that she was the one who had saved him from a tragic fate many years ago. And now, her heart was the target of pursuit for both Yue Guanyi and the powerful Empress Dowager Qin Qing.
While Yue Guanyi only dared to silently care for and protect the one he loved from afar, the Empress Dowager Qin Qing openly expressed his feelings and did not hesitate to take advantage of his power to approach Qiu Shuzhi. The covert struggle between the two most powerful forces in the imperial court began…
Trigger warning: All men in this novel are yandere style.
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Chapter Comments (37)
Inline Comments (172)
I wanted the time we spent together to remain good memories.
Not possible brother… you two can’t be on equal standing. Reina has a bigger threat looming over her and she can’t even be her self around you
"Say it again, but longer."
This is the second time he has said this lol 😆 , blunt isn’t he
After long hesitation…
Ohh that’s a whole other can of worms waiting to be opened
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Omgosh I forgot how much I dislike the misunderstanding trope
Oh my gosh my heart aches for reina… everyone is just tossing her around
Oh gosh reina 🥺… even in this day and age taking contraceptives mess you up … I can’t even imagine how it was back then. ( yes I’m aware it’s fiction but sympathy is free)