15.

 

At the same time, Azniel couldn’t help but feel awkward under the scrutinizing gaze that assessed and measured her every inch.

“Hm, you’re so slender that just about anything would fit… but still—”

“The master’s quite concerned, you know,” Annie added cheerfully, ever the attentive personal maid. “That’s why one of our missions is to help you put on a bit of weight.”

The tailor gave a knowing nod. “I’ll go with styles that don’t rely too much on body shape for now… though I do worry. People with naturally slim frames often don’t gain weight easily, no matter what you feed them.”

“But you’re already looking better than when you first arrived,” Annie chimed again, her tone warm. “Watching you grow healthier day by day is our greatest joy lately.”

Healthier…? Azniel hadn’t even noticed. She barely paid attention to her own reflection, let alone her complexion.

Realizing how closely Annie had been observing her—enough to notice such changes—made her feel oddly self-conscious.

Still, she reminded herself: this, too, was part of her new role. If she was to fulfill her duties as the legitimate Lady Gestern, she would have to grow used to being cared for like this… even if it was unfamiliar.

* * *

“Today, how was she?”

“Mr. Lyon brought the city dress she had ordered last time. She tried it on, and since it needed no further adjustments, we finalized the fit and settled the payment.”

“Mm.”

“The Countess of Rumièn was effusive with praise. She said Miss Azniel has already mastered the basics of greeting etiquette and table manners. She still struggles with ballroom dancing, but practices so diligently that the Countess finds her a joy to teach.”

“No need to worry about public opinion later, then. Good to know the investment wasn’t wasted.”

“And…”

As Jerome continued his daily report on Azniel, he glanced cautiously toward Klaus before speaking more slowly.

“For the upcoming estate tour… am I really accompanying her alone?”

“You know more about Dwelsher than I do. Why not?”

“This isn’t about who knows more. She’s your fiancée. You ought to show a little more interest.”

“Annie seems to be doing a better job of that.”

Klaus’s tone made it clear the matter was closed. Without another word, he lowered his gaze to the stack of documents Jerome had brought for signature.

It had already been ten days since Azniel arrived in Ashfeld. But in that time, she and Klaus had seen each other only a handful of times.

If Klaus came home early, they might share a meal—but such occasions hadn’t happened even once. As the head of Antagon, Klaus was buried in work with no clear division between weekdays and weekends. And frankly, there wasn’t enough sentiment between them to warrant rushing home before she fell asleep.

“Still,” Jerome pressed gently, one of the few servants aware of the nature of their arranged marriage, “most engaged couples at least go on outings during the weekend. If you keep this up and suddenly announce the wedding, who’s going to believe it’s a love match?”

Jerome, older and a bit more perceptive than Ian, was also one of the few who suspected there might be something more buried beneath Klaus’s behavior—something even Klaus hadn’t fully admitted to himself.

“The maids say she spends the weekends alone,” he added. “Since Countess Rumièn doesn’t teach on those days. They find it strange. Though Miss Azniel herself says she enjoys the time—gives her a chance to learn the house better…”

His words, offered half in duty and half in genuine concern, struck a nerve.

Alone… on the weekend…

Klaus, who had been flipping through documents with little interest, suddenly lowered the papers and rubbed his thumb over his lips.

“…Right. Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to start leaking a few rumors.”

“Ian.”

“…Yes, sir.”

Ian’s face darkened immediately. He already sensed where this was going.

“Pull up the promotional drafts the PR team submitted—specifically anything that could pass as a weekend activity.”

* * *

Azniel finally opened the package the trainee girls had slipped into her luggage on the second weekend after her arrival in Ashfeld.

“Is this what you were looking for, my lady?”

Since everything she needed had already been prepared in the mansion, she hadn’t had a reason to check her belongings, aside from pulling out her scriptures and sacred items when she arrived. With lessons flooding every day, she hadn’t had the presence of mind to remember—until now, while quietly enjoying a rare moment of tea time.

“Looks like clothing and… here’s a bundle. This must be it!”

“Yes, thank you.”

Azniel smiled gently as she took the bundle from Annie, who had grown noticeably warmer and more familiar in her service. As she untied the ribbon, a card sat neatly on top.

[Dear Saint, thank you for everything. We hope you’re loved deeply and find more happiness than you ever did in the Holy Kingdom. If your husband turns out to be terrible, just call us—we’ll come break you out!]

The handwriting was playful and filled with mischief. Adorable, really—especially from girls who once giggled about the “famous Sir Klaus” with hearts in their eyes.

[Still, we hope you become a blissful couple, so we picked a gift that might help. They say this is the most popular series right now!]

Still smiling, Azniel turned her gaze to the “gift” mentioned. Annie, who’d been watching all along, let out a suspiciously amused hum.

“My lady, your friends are quite… spirited, aren’t they?”

“Pardon?”

Annie lifted one of the items from the bundle—and the cover practically glowed with embarrassment.

“The Countess Can’t Be Satisfied…?””

Rainy Nights in the Duke’s Castle
The Passionate Bedroom of the Duke and His Wife
The Knight I’ll Never Forget

Azniel couldn’t begin to guess what the titles meant, but the illustrated covers were clue enough. Her cheeks flushed hot with realization.

“N-no, I didn’t ask for these…!”

“Oh, what’s the harm? Maybe noble ladies don’t admit to it, but we commoners learn plenty from these romance novels.”

Perhaps because Azniel—usually so composed—was blushing furiously, Annie took the rare chance to tease her with even more flair.

“Whoever picked them has great taste. All the classics! I guess you wouldn’t know, but honestly, they’re essential reading before the wedding night.”

“Annie…!”

Azniel was so overwhelmed she nearly blurted out the truth about the contract.

There’s no clause requiring children, and the one about conjugal nights clearly says it’s up to me. I don’t even need to know about these kinds of things…!

She held her face, flushed and hot, trying to press the panic away with her palms.

Knock knock.

“I’m coming in.”

A voice rang out—without waiting for permission—and someone stepped into the sitting room.

“Azniel, if you’re free right now—”

Annie scrambled to clear the books from the table, but the long legs of the uninvited guest had already stepped onto the carpet.

“Ah, that is, I—”

Thump.

Annie hiccupped as one book tumbled from her arms.

The Passionate Bedroom of the Duke and His Wife

“…”

“…”

“…”

Time froze under the crushing silence.

“W-well then! I’ll just—go sort some things upstairs!”

Annie barely managed to snatch the book up and, flustered beyond belief, bolted out of the room. The door clicked shut behind her, leaving a heavy, awkward stillness in her wake.

The first to speak—barely—was Klaus.

“…My apologies. I didn’t think—this is the sitting room, after all.”

“N-no, it’s fine. It is your house, Klaus…”

“No, really. I’ll be more careful next time.”

Clears throat.

He let out a faint, unnecessary cough. In truth, it had been a long time since he’d lived with anyone—Jerome had managed his flat in Laffen for years, and Ian had handled the Ashfeld estate, but having someone not in his employ living under the same roof was… different. And this was his arranged bride, no less—someone he had barely seen in the ten days since she arrived.

“So, um, was there something you needed?”

“Ah, yes…”

Still looking slightly flustered, Klaus finally got to the point.

“Would you like to go out today?”

“Go out…?”

“It’s the weekend. I thought… maybe we should go on a date.”

“…A date?”

It was a word Azniel had never thought would have anything to do with her life. She echoed it back slowly, like a foreign term.

* * *

“Today’s magic car looks different from the last one.”

About an hour later, when Azniel stepped outside fully dressed, what awaited her at the entrance was a sleek black magic car, ornately detailed with gold leaf embellishments.

“Yes. For the Holy Kingdom, I chose something more understated… but Laffen City is a spectacle of extravagance. In that world, the most eye-catching thing should be the head of Antagon.”

Klaus’s lips curled into a smirk. The dimple that showed only on one side reminded her faintly of the boy he used to be—unexpectedly stirring a sense of familiarity.

As he took Azniel’s hand to help her into the vehicle, he added, “Later, I’ll have Jerome show you the garage out back. We use different cars depending on the destination, the status of the guests, and the purpose of the meeting.”

“…I’ll make a note of that.”

Azniel’s choice of words was stiff—make a note, like she were logging a report. Something about it rubbed Klaus the wrong way, and on a whim, he added:

“You know, you shouldn’t speak so formally once we’re in the city.”

“Ah, yes…”

“Didn’t those romance novels cover that kind of thing?”