12.

 

 

Ian still couldn’t quite understand why Klaus had brought the Saint here under the pretense of a political marriage.

‘Is she some kind of first love?’ he had wondered. But seeing how Klaus treated her—coldly, with the same indifference he showed everyone—it was hard to believe that was the case.

And Klaus had never once explained his true intentions clearly. Instead of prying, Ian brought up a different topic.

“I’m very curious to see how the royal family will respond.”

Klaus answered with a short laugh.

“I imagine they know you visited the Holy Kingdom more than once, don’t they?”

“They probably even know who entered Ashfeld today.”

“Which means they’re likely seething but too proud to ask about it outright. Especially Princess No. 1…”

Ian gave a subtle shiver, recalling the temperamental and self-absorbed princess.

“I hope nothing happens to the Saint…”

“It’ll be fine. Just need to handle things carefully. They’re the ones with something to lose—if we pressure them right, they’ll stay in line.”

“Even so, we’ll need to tighten internal security as well.”

Knock, knock.

As if aware of the conversation, a knock sounded at the door.

“Master, I’ve brought the lady.”

“Let her in.”

As Klaus gave the answer, he glanced at the desk in front of him—two copies of a contract lay there, densely packed with legal language defining what was to come.

As the butler Jerome opened the door, Ian quickly cleared away the empty plates and glasses left on the tea table. Jerome retrieved the used dishes while Ian tidied up scattered documents, briefly stirring a flurry of quiet activity in the room.

“Please, have a seat.”

Amid the bustle, Klaus remained calm and unbothered, gesturing to the seat across from him.

“I see the clothes fit you well.”

“Thank you for preparing them.”

“They’re off-the-rack from a local boutique, just for now. I’ll have a tailor come to the house soon.”

“Y-yes… wait, what?”

Azniel blinked in surprise. She’d already seen a few more dresses like this one in the wardrobe, and now more were being ordered? For someone who used to rotate between three modest outfits, it was a bewildering thought.

As if he’d expected her reaction, Klaus ignored it and motioned for Ian to bring in refreshments.

“Was the food to your liking?”

“Yes, it was all delicious.”

“And the staff? I hope there weren’t any issues? Any slip-ups?”

“No, they were all very kind.”

“Your personal maid?”

“Miss Annie took excellent care of me.”

“Miss… Annie?”

One of Klaus’s eyebrows twitched. He didn’t seem pleased that the future lady of the house was being so respectful to a maid. That faintly disapproving expression was hidden from Azniel by Ian, who was now setting the tea on the table.

“This is the chairman’s preferred tea. It’s from the Duchy of Alainber. I hope it suits your taste as well, Saint.”

“…It smells lovely. Thank you.”

Azniel had never had the luxury of developing her own tastes. Naturally, she simply accepted whatever the master of the house preferred.

Klaus lifted his own cup, though he didn’t drink. Instead, he quietly observed Azniel as she brought the cup to her lips, as if trying to read every trace of emotion from her face—how she might respond to something he liked.

‘…Ah.’

A faint smile flickered and faded across Azniel’s face. So subtle it could be mistaken for nothing at all. It was a habit—one formed from years of never showing her true thoughts. Just a brief lightening of her expression, a tiny lift of the corners of her mouth.

Did he find himself wishing he could see it again?

‘…Wishing for it?’

How dare he. Klaus reminded himself firmly: he had no right to desire anything of her. He pushed the thought away with self-directed scorn and gestured toward Ian.

“The contract.”

Ian handed Azniel a folder bound in leather. Inside, neatly typed by machine, was the agreement—already finalized long before today.

Her golden eyes scanned the bold letters at the top.

[Marriage Contract]

The life Azniel had feared, imagined, and brooded over for the past several days—all of it was now summarized in a single, emotionless phrase:

“A contract… I see.”

“As our union isn’t based on affection, I thought it best we clarify a few things in advance to avoid unnecessary friction. So, I had this prepared.”

“…”

“Please, take your time reading it.”

[The House of Gestern (hereafter ‘Gestern’) and Azniel (hereafter ‘the contractee’) enter into the following agreement regarding the marriage between Baron Klaus Gestern, head of Gestern, and the contractee.]

The string of dry legal language caused Azniel’s heart to sink.

The confusion of leaving the Holy Kingdom she’d known all her life, the anxiety over a life transformed, the fear of being left in this otherworldly mansion—all of it seemed pressed into these cold, binding lines of legal text.

And most of all, the fact that a sacred union—governed by Dara—had been translated into secular form…

With a deep breath, Azniel continued reading:

[Clause 1. The contractee shall faithfully fulfill the duties of Gestern’s public lady of the house. In return, Gestern shall provide for the contractee’s full needs and safety.]

1) The contractee will receive a monthly personal stipend of 3,000 pena. This is separate from any additional budget required for Gestern’s use.

The listed amount was so large it didn’t feel real—Azniel, unfamiliar with finances or worldly matters, still understood this was a considerable benefit.

And that wasn’t the end of it.

[Clause 2. This contract takes effect immediately upon both parties’ signatures and remains valid until the death of the contractee.]

1) In the event of the head of Gestern’s death, all of his assets shall be donated to Antagon Trading Company, and the obligation to pay the contractee’s stipend, as stated in Clause 1-1, shall be inherited.

2) The monthly stipend may be adjusted every three years in accordance with inflation.

3) Should either party wish to terminate the contract, a separate agreement may be reached. In that case, Gestern will pay the contractee a lump sum equivalent to the remaining lifetime stipend, calculated by the United Continental average life expectancy.

As her golden eyes scanned the lines, Azniel briefly glanced up at the man across the table.

The contract had clearly been written with her benefit in mind. It could not be terminated without her consent, and if Klaus ever violated or became incapable of fulfilling it, she would be legally protected and compensated. Her obligations, in turn, were minimal: to serve as Baroness of House Gestern in public.

‘I never thought I lacked reading comprehension, but…’

She reviewed it several times, searching for hidden traps between the lines—but that was truly all there was.

The rest of the clauses followed a similar tone: while Klaus’s decisions would take precedence in her public duties, they would not interfere in one another’s personal lives. They were required to share a bed at least once a month for appearances, but only if Azniel agreed. Physical contact outside of public necessity was to be avoided altogether. There was no clause regarding producing heirs.

In exchange for becoming Baroness in name only, Klaus would take full responsibility for Azniel’s lifelong care—without conditions or interference.

‘Just what is this supposed to be…’

Noticing the furrow forming on Azniel’s brow, Klaus spoke slowly.

“If anything is unclear, feel free to ask. I prepared it together with Antagon’s legal team. We tried to keep it as concise as possible.”

“Yes… it does seem that way.”

“To put it simply, it’s a form of lifetime employment.”

Lifetime employment…

Azniel’s dry lips pressed together as she repeated the phrase internally.

“As the employer, I’ve hired you to act as my wife. In return, as the employee, you’ll receive appropriate compensation for fulfilling that role.”

‘Appropriate’—which, for Azniel, was a shockingly generous amount.

“Um… Baron.”

“Yes?”

“This contract seems… entirely in my favor.”

“I did bring you here unilaterally, after all.”

“Still, it doesn’t specify what I’m expected to do. I’m not quite sure…”

“As I mentioned, you’ll serve as Baroness Gestern. For now, simply adapting to life here is your primary task.”

Behind his glasses, Klaus’s dark eyes gleamed with a cool precision.

“You’ll act as lady of the house. Jerome will handle the daily affairs, so just learn the overall flow. As for society etiquette, we’ve hired someone to tutor you—please study before the wedding.”

“We’re… having a wedding?”

“Yes. A grand one, worthy of Antagon’s prestige. The goal is to formally declare to the world that I am joined with the Saint.”

The very idea made Azniel’s face darken, dizzy from the imagined spectacle.

“But of course, you needn’t worry about a thing. The family will take care of all preparations. Do you have any preferences? A favorite flower for your bouquet?”

“…I don’t think so.”

“If there’s anything you’d like as a wedding gift, feel free to let Miss Annie know.”

The way he said ‘Miss Annie’ carried a subtle intonation—just enough for it to sound vaguely peculiar.

“Preferably something on a large scale.”