TNBTW | Episode 17

In the aristocratic circles, the influence of society newsletters was considerable. It didn’t take long for everyone in the palace to learn about Duke Devion’s newfound romance.

“The Duke of Devion, getting married? The banquet halls will overflow with tear-soaked handkerchiefs.”

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“It seems fate always has its own plans.”

‘“But has anyone even heard of the Brussels Barony before? This is the first I’ve heard of them.”

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“Well, that’s probably why he’s marrying her. No family we’ve heard of would agree to such a match.”

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Unsurprisingly, the news sent ripples throughout the social scene. It was as if the gathered nobles had rehearsed their gossip, endlessly chattering about Duke Devion.

Some romanticized the story as a fairytale love affair, while others cynically dissected the situation. Regardless of interpretation, his romantic endeavors became an inevitable topic whenever people gathered, spreading like wildfire through every department.

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Every department except one: the Ministry of Magic, where the man at the center of the gossip was employed.

“The eastern region has requested additional support from wizards. With the recent warming of the weather, it seems the population of grizzly bears around the Istere Mountain Range has increased.”

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“The workers deployed for the reconstruction of the fortress haven’t returned yet, have they?”

“That’s correct. The recovery team needs to cover the southern regions, so it will take at least two months before they can return.”

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“I’ll handle it myself.”

The wizard from the Disaster Management Division, who had been calmly delivering his report, hesitated briefly at this unexpected response.

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His superior, the head of the Ministry of Magic—none other than Duke Devion himself—was a powerful wizard, capable of handling the situation singlehandedly. However, the issue lay in the timing: his wedding was only days away.

“…Will you be leaving immediately, sir?”

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“Is there a reason not to?”

For a fleeting moment, the wizard considered responding, ‘But your wedding is right around the corner!’ However, he quickly dismissed the thought. ‘He’ll manage on his own, I suppose.’

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The Ministry of Magic was, after all, a place predominantly populated by wizards. From low-ranking wizards who couldn’t even secure a position in the Magic Tower to those who renounced their nationality to obtain citizenship in Robedon, the staff came from all walks of life.

Despite their varied backgrounds, they shared a common trait: they were wizards. And wizards, by nature, were not particularly inclined to meddle in others’ affairs.

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That’s not to say they were entirely uninterested in gossip, but at the very least, their superior’s love life was not a topic of significant intrigue. Thus, the Ministry of Magic retained its usual tranquil atmosphere.

“I’ll relay the message accordingly.”

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The wizard gave a brief nod of acknowledgement and withdrew. Once alone, Skyle glanced at the notes outlining his schedule.

‘It should take about two weeks.’

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Estimating the duration of the mission based on its scope was not difficult. With imperial permission to use teleportation magic, it was a task that could be completed within that time frame.

Though such duties didn’t necessarily require the intervention of a high-ranking wizard like him, the Ministry of Magic was severely understaffed.

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This predicament was inevitable. His decision to defy the Magic Tower’s regulations by participating in the war had severed all ties between the tower and the Robedon Empire.

The Ministry of Magic, having been established only a year prior, was still a fledgling department. Wizards confident in their abilities generally gravitated toward the Magic Tower, drawn by its wealth of accumulated knowledge and long-standing prestige.

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As a result, the wizards within the Ministry of Magic were incomparable to those of the Mage Tower, both in quantity and quality—at least for now.

‘If only we could gather individuals of greater utility.’

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It was a reasonable hope, but ultimately, the burden fell on his shoulders. Skyle had long since grown accustomed to carrying that weight.

His gaze, which had been drifting aimlessly, landed on the unfamiliar term wedding written in the schedule.

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‘Even if unforeseen circumstances delay me, I can still arrive the day before. There should be no issues.’

He thought of the wedding as one might think of attending someone else’s event—detached and indifferent. To him, marriage was merely a tool to fulfill the emperor’s plans. It was more obligation than occasion, eliciting no emotional response.

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What a waste. Spending time dwelling on something already decided felt inefficient. As he habitually brushed aside unnecessary thoughts, a knock on the door interrupted him.

“Your Grace, it’s Aaron. I’ve brought the documents you requested.”

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“Come in.”

At his curt reply, the door opened, and Aaron entered, placing a stack of neatly compiled papers on Skyle’s desk. Yet, for some reason, the young wizard lingered, his shadow unmoving.

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“Your Grace… Are you really marrying Lady Edith?”

Skyle looked up at him. Aaron, one of the rare commoners to become a wizard, was often the last to hear rumors.

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When Skyle didn’t respond immediately, Aaron seemed to take the silence as confirmation and groaned in dismay.

“Is it true? I even explained the Ministry of Magic to her without knowing! How foolish I must have looked!”

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Skyle couldn’t help but think idly, ‘I doubt she thought that of you.’

Edith Irene Brussels.

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The unfortunate woman who would live as his wife for the next three years was… peculiar.

She paid excessive attention to others and applied her sharp observations for their benefit. Whether it was a close acquaintance or a stranger she had just met, her behavior remained the same.

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If she had been selective in her attentions, it would have made sense. Many people acted that way.

But Edith lacked such calculations. Her care for others seemed entirely natural, as though it were simply how things ought to be.

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Because of this, she likely wouldn’t have treated Aaron as a fool. In fact…

‘In fact?’

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Skyle experienced a rare moment of cognitive dissonance. The answer that had been on the verge of forming dissolved into an indistinct haze.

What would she have thought? He couldn’t begin to guess. She represented a type of person he neither understood logically nor had encountered before.

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To Skyle, Edith Irene Brussels was incomprehensible. Most of her actions seemed wasteful, bringing her no benefit whatsoever.

‘To care so deeply for others while harboring a desire to leave this world…’

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And then there was her unexpected wish. For a brief moment upon hearing it, Skyle had felt an unusual interest in her. But as it served no purpose, that interest had quickly faded.

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“Well, talking to you reminded me of someone, Your Grace. Someone I knew long ago.”

“We were close—probably the closest.”

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Eyes that had been quietly staring into the void dropped slowly to the ground, as if weighed down by the sudden memory that surfaced.

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For the first time, someone had compared him to another person, speaking of shared closeness.

People found Skyle uncomfortable to be around. His mere presence seemed to create unease, his words amplifying that discomfort.

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How bad must it have been that the emperor himself, after tirelessly arranging Skyle’s marriage, had issued a stern command. “You shouldn’t say anything. Keeping your mouth shut will do wonders for securing a bride.”

And yet Edith Irene Brussels, despite having conversed with him numerous times, maintained a calm demeanor. Occasionally startled or flustered, perhaps, but she always returned to her steady equilibrium.

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Was that why? Conversations with her brought Skyle a strange sense of stability, like objects arranged neatly in their proper places.

It was peculiar. To not understand her, yet feel at ease. Perhaps that was the source of the peculiarity. Skyle allowed himself an uncharacteristic, fleeting thought.

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“Your Grace?”

The voice calling to him broke his reverie. It was unlike him to lose himself in thought in front of someone else.

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“You seem quite preoccupied, Your Grace. Anyway, I must take my leave now; it’s time for lunch!”

As the door shut behind Aaron, Skyle glanced at the clock. It was indeed that hour. Only then did he realize how wastefully he had spent his morning.

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He picked up the documents on his desk. Reviewing them would see the evening arrive in no time. He briefly assessed his condition—it was sufficient for work.

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“Have you been eating properly?”

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Skipping lunch wouldn’t matter, and yet, the vivid memory of her gentle green eyes filled with incomprehensible concern held him back.

Her advice on balanced meals and adequate rest had been surprisingly reasonable. Since he couldn’t fulfill the latter, he might as well attend to the former.

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Convincing himself that it was merely his duty as her contractual partner, Skyle finally rose from his seat.