The Maid's Contract Marriage (1 Chapters Left to Complete) - Chapter 6

“That girl is Christina! The finest lady in high society!”

The Marchioness Julius clenched her teeth, her face flushed with suppressed anger and embarrassment, breathing heavily through flared nostrils.

“…I thought you’d recognize her at once. But it seems we were remiss. Apparently, there’s a reason you failed to recognize her.”

Arthur’s expression remained unchanged.

After taking several deep breaths, the Marchioness continued.

“…Perhaps years of hardship and resentment have clouded your eyes. How could I not understand your disappointment? You must have much to say—I’ll listen to it all. For now, please come into the castle, and let us talk.”

Arthur gave no reply, only a faint smile.

Though light and subtle, his smile carried a weight that made those who saw it feel uneasy.

Clutching her fan with trembling hands, the Marchioness forced her chin up, trying her best to maintain a dignified expression.

“Even if there’s been a misunderstanding, it’s something we can resolve through conversation. Please give us a chance to make amends. After all, we’re in the same boat—and surely you don’t intend to completely turn your back on Julius?”

The Marchioness’s voice continued.

“Don’t put Christina in jeopardy just to express your grievances toward us. In the end, she’ll be your shield. Right now, you’re damaging your own shield. Please don’t. Above all, she’s your wife for life now.”

An uneasy silence once again settled over the tent.

“Is that so?”

Arthur finally spoke.

“Then let me see my wife again. Perhaps my eyes have deceived me.”

Color returned to the Marchioness’s face.

But Arthur wasn’t finished.

“But if she still isn’t my wife this time, I won’t let it slide as easily as before.”

Both the Marquis and Marchioness stiffened.

“What do you mean…?”

Arthur calmly continued.

“If you truly wish to make things right, you must first admit your wrongdoing. If you want a ‘chance to make amends,’ stop trying to conceal your mistake.”

He gave them a faint, knowing smile.

“This time, she must truly be my wife. If so, as long as that young lady remains in my care, I’ll stay silent about this matter.”

In the next moment, Arthur gave a brief nod toward the rear.

“We’ll talk afterward. Farewell.”

The Marquis’s jaw dropped at this blunt dismissal.

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‘He’s definitely figured it out. And now he’s throwing this tantrum because he’s offended.’

After being driven out of Arthur’s encampment, the Marquis ground his teeth furiously.

What did he mean by “don’t try to hide it”?

Insolent brat!

The Marchioness pressed a hand to her forehead, biting her lip.

“…I told you we should’ve gotten rid of that girl long ago!”

The Marquis snapped back petulantly.

“Who was it that insisted on keeping her, saying she was discreet and could carry out any task entrusted to her?”

“…”

The Marchioness closed her mouth tightly, eyes squeezed shut, unwilling to reply.

After a long, frustrated silence, the Marquis muttered darkly.

“…Should we eliminate her now?”

The Marchioness hissed in exasperation.

“Do you think we haven’t considered it? If we’d done it earlier, fine—but now it’s far too dangerous.”

“…”

Though the urge to erase all evidence of past misdeeds surged repeatedly within her, she knew they could no longer act rashly.

If they tried and were caught, it would truly be the end.

All eyes in the world were fixed on Julius Mansion.

Reporters swarmed everywhere, and inside the mansion stood Lord Rembrandt himself—the Emperor’s own eyes.

If someone were found dead in the household now, it would only fuel gossip: “Look, they’ve got something to hide!”

Worse still, someone might already be watching.

It was simply the wrong time to resort to risky measures.

“…”

Gripping her fan so tightly it nearly tore, the Marchioness ranted hysterically.

“He says he’ll stay silent if we hand over the girl—meaning he likely holds evidence and wants proper compensation for the fraudulent marriage, right? He can’t possibly mean to sever ties with us completely?”

“…”

She muttered to herself like a prayer.

“We can still fix this. Even if it comes out, Arthur gains nothing but a stain on his reputation…”

“…”

The Marquis thought grimly, his face hardened.

Though he was furious to his core, his wife was right this time.

Their priority now was to soothe that man’s temper and seal his mouth.

If rumors of a fraudulent marriage surfaced at this critical juncture, their hard-won status as Imperial heirs would be…

‘Yes. Better to negotiate than cause a scandal.’

His anger subsided, his mind growing cold and clear.

Everything needed to proceed smoothly, naturally—like flowing water.

The moment they returned to the mansion, the Marquis told his wife,

“Send her out—the maid. To Triumph Square.”

The Marchioness flinched and stared at him.

The Marquis continued,

“He won’t cooperate unless he sees we’ve yielded. We must show him we’ll give him what Arthur wants.”

The Marchioness’s vision darkened; her lower eyelid twitched.

She’d half-expected this, yet still hoped against hope.

Was this truly their only option?

And what about after?

“…But what about Christina if we parade that maid before everyone?!”

The Marquis twisted his face in frustration.

“Do you think I’ve spent real money all this time just to stall for nothing?!”

He immediately summoned the Head Butler and Head Maid and issued orders.

“Keep torchlight to a minimum. Hide ‘Christina’s’ face in the shadows. Olga, you’ll accompany her. Assign only maids you trust implicitly to attend to her.”

“Yes.”

The Head Butler and Head Maid bowed and departed.

As the Marquis tried lighting his pipe, his trembling hands fumbled twice before he flung it away in irritation.

Tobacco scattered messily across the carpet, filling the room with his ragged, furious breaths.

He clenched his jaw, remembering the distinguished guest now acting as the Imperial watchman.

‘The fraudulent marriage must never be revealed. Lord Rembrandt—the Emperor’s cousin—is watching.’

To avoid suspicion, they absolutely had to settle this—today, at the latest.

‘And to do that, I must first appease Arthur.’

Watching him, the Marchioness stood dazed for a moment before staggering and barely catching herself on a table.

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“I can’t do it. I really can’t…”

“What will happen afterward if I step out now…?”

“I can’t possibly take all the blame alone and just die…”

“How could I possibly die alone in this situation…?”

“Even if I claimed I stole the dress myself, tricked the Marquis’s family, and posed as the young lady for the wedding—no one would believe me…”

Reina knelt before the Marchioness, pleading desperately—but the reply was as sharp as a blade.

“Don’t panic.”

“Lord Arthur is merely angry for the moment.”

“Your only role is to calm this commotion. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“We’re placing you there temporarily just to show we’re sincerely complying with Arthur’s demands.”

“Don’t be afraid. You won’t remain in that position long.”

“Arthur will stop before things become irreparable—he only intends to inconvenience us somewhat.”

“He wouldn’t truly want to break with us.”

“He may be hailed as a hero now, but do you think the Empress will let a bastard who rescued the captured Crown Prince go unchallenged?”

“Especially when he’s more popular than the Crown Prince himself?”

“Once Empress Maria begins to rein him in, Arthur will quickly realize he needs ‘Julius’ as his backing.”

“He needs the protection of ‘Julius.’”

“If he’s not a fool, he’ll understand soon enough.”

The Marchioness smiled coldly, lowering her gaze to meet Reina’s eyes.

“And Reina.”

“You simply do as you’re told. Don’t overstep your place.”

Reina sank back onto her heels, staring up at the Marchioness in shock.

“This time, I’m explaining only because you’ve endured much.”

“So do it well.”

“And don’t tarnish Christina’s honor.”

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And so, Reina was dragged before him once more.

Again under the name ‘Christina Julius.’

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“Be utterly and completely Christina in front of Arthur.”

“Don’t fall for leading questions—don’t let a careless word trip us up.”

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For the first time in five years, a wedding ring was placed on Reina’s finger.

Large teardrop pearls dangled from her ears; a necklace rested on her neck.

“…”

Though her vision blurred into darkness,

it made no difference—she’d die either way.

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“…When you said I wasn’t your wife, my parents summoned me and punished me severely. They asked if I’d offended Lord Arthur in any way—how I could have made my husband say such things.”

Arthur, who had been watching her quietly, gave a small smile.

Perhaps it was because she stood before thousands, bound tightly in corset and lies, unable to breathe.

She’d thought she might faint.

Yet everything felt so unreal that she’d grown unnervingly calm—as if turned dull-witted.

She knew it shouldn’t feel this quiet—so why did it?

The wind brushed past her ears, stirring her loosened hair as though it weren’t her own.

Her pierced ears burned. The earrings felt heavy.

Reina exhaled shakily, her breath tight against the constriction of her corset.

“…”

He extended his hand.

Only upon hearing the onlookers’ gasps did Reina realize it was an offer to escort her.

Her breathing began to steady.

Amidst the surreal haze, she placed her hand atop his.

The moment Arthur lightly grasped Reina’s tentative fingers, thunderous cheers erupted.

The world echoed like distant reverberations from another realm.

Torchlight swayed slowly.

Reina stared, dazed, into Arthur’s face.

Was it because of his eyes, locked onto hers?

Memories from five years ago—feelings she’d forgotten—suddenly resurfaced.

Though she’d never wanted that place, he’d been kind during their brief time together.

The bittersweet moment she’d bid farewell to a husband for just one night—someone deemed expendable, never expected to return, replaced by a maid without a second thought.

“…I’m glad… you returned safely.”

Words she hadn’t meant to speak slipped out before she could stop them.

He smiled and replied,

“Didn’t you tell me not to come back?”

Reina fell silent, slightly flustered.

Then she remembered.

The one line that had finally broken her silence five years ago.

‘…All I get to hear is your voice, struggling under hardship.’

“…”

And the impulsive words she’d spoken then returned to her.

Not knowing the Marquis had substituted her—a mere maid—for the young lady, she’d felt sorrow for him, leaving for certain death just to honor his promise to Julius…

That it was fine if he never returned.

That living like Ryan Dalton* might be acceptable…

“…”

At least she could console herself with the excuse that her voice was already heard anyway.

Resigned, Reina bowed her head.

“…I never imagined things would turn out this well.”

He chuckled softly.

“Is that so?”

…Had she offended him?

Hesitating, Reina lowered her head further and added quietly,

“…I’m glad you returned safely. It’s… nice to see you again.”

He smiled.

“I’m back.”

And with that, she felt at ease.

―――――

*Ryan Dalton: A character from a classic novel—a prince who deserted his post, discarded his name and status, and spent his life yearning for his beloved fiancée. He is interpreted as cowardly and foolish.