"Happy birthday. I've made dinner reservations at the hotel for 7, so get ready. - Mom."
I stared blankly at the pile of items, supposedly gifts, with my phone still lit up with messages. They didn't feel particularly special. Standing among the byproducts, wrapped in fancy wrapping paper and left in a heap, I felt like I was adrift in a void.
I took for granted that I could have whatever I wanted whenever I wanted it, and anything I could have, even if I didn't need it, felt useless. At some point, I lost track of what I truly wanted. I had nothing I wanted, nothing I hoped for.
And my parents never came back after my birthday.
“I didn’t expect that.”
“Are you awake?”
A familiar voice woke me. My eyelids felt heavy. The light streaming through my narrowed eyes seemed like a gap between dream and reality.
"Yes?"
I rubbed my eyes and completely shook off the sleep. The sky above Loganfield was filled with black smoke billowing ceaselessly from the factory chimneys, and the streets bustled with people in traditional attire.
The train rattled against the cracks in the tracks. Only when I saw the still-unfamiliar scenery outside did I realize it was a dream.
We were returning from our honeymoon and heading back to the mansion. I cleared my throat and asked slowly.
“Have we arrived at the capital already?”
“Yeah. I feel like you're falling asleep whenever you're in the car. What did you dream about?”
“I don’t remember.”
Noah, sitting in the driver's seat, stared at me with his ever-present smile. He occasionally asked me what I was dreaming about, wondering if I was just talking nonsense in my sleep.
“Am I talking in my sleep?”
“You snore.”
What? I sat up straighter.
"Really?"
"Yes."
“How much is it?”
“I woke up in surprise, thinking a tank was passing by.”
Noah, it seems, had been having some unspoken struggles with sleeping with me. I was wondering if I was triggering his PTSD every night when I saw the roof of our house in the distance. He added.
“I don’t think it’s a good dream.”
"Why?"
“So I slept with you every day to protect you. Isn’t that cool?”
I didn't ask why, but since he's a man who only says what he wants to say, I nodded with a very grateful expression.
Molly appeared at the front door of the mansion to greet us. Standing upright, she held a gold envelope emblazoned with the royal coat of arms in her right hand.
"I hope you had a good honeymoon. The royal family sent an invitation to a commemorative ceremony. Perhaps because of the ongoing war between the two countries, it doesn't seem to be as grand as I'd heard."
Molly handed me an envelope. I hesitated for a moment, then realized belatedly that I was now the hostess, so I quickly accepted it. I was starting to worry about whether I should attend social events for networking purposes. I didn't want to go.
“A memorial service?”
"Yes, it's the Queen's birthday. Many events and festivals will be held during the month-long celebration. Many people from autonomous and friendly nations are expected to attend. Additionally, ambassadors from six countries, all members of international organizations, are expected to visit."
At the end, Molly's gray eyes turned to Noah.
He had been listening without much interest, but he chuckled.
“They must be trying to change the international law of wartime.”
“Since new weapons are being developed so quickly, isn’t it possible that they are trying to regulate them?”
At Molly's cautious question, which was held with her hands clasped together, Noah loosened his tie and tilted his head.
“No, it’s the opposite. It’s allowed.”
I silently listened to Noah and Molly's conversation. As soon as the honeymoon ended, a tangible worry weighed heavily on my chest. I feared the possibility of another war. Medea, one of the continent's major powers, would undoubtedly be at the center of it. What if Noah were to be sent to fight in it by the Queen's order? I gently tugged at Noah's sleeve and asked.
“Is war imminent?”
"Yes."
He answered as if nothing had happened, taking my hand and leading me. He didn't even ask if I had eaten, and it was war.
“Even now, there is war going on elsewhere, and it is not the end of the war, but a ceasefire.”
“I know that, but...”
“Don’t worry. I’ll protect you.”
No, I'm worried about that!
"You don't have to protect me. Let's figure out a way to escape together. There must be countries here that don't participate in war."
It was a very serious suggestion, but Noah laughed it off as if he had heard a silly joke.
"This is the safest place. Honey, you know a lot and worry a lot."
My shoulders slumped at the word "honey." Only after the powerful word dispelled all unnecessary thoughts did I realize we were already in the bedroom, and that the man was about to pin me to the bed.
“Suddenly, as soon as we arrived?”
"No?"
“No.”
"Yes."
The surprisingly obedient man slowly rolled up his sleeves and sat down on the edge of the bed. His face was filled with regret, but he seemed to value mutual understanding. I took off my coat and asked him about something I hadn't asked before.
“But this is the safest place?”
“Because in the end, this place will become the victorious country.”
“What about Frogen?”
At my question, his straight jawline lifted slightly. He lifted the tip of his nose, curved his lips, and hummed in response.
"It'll disappear. Long ago, the Rotsilt family and the Medea royal family secretly collaborated on a plan."
“What are your plans?”
“Getting rid of Frogen.”
No matter how much I think about it, I was wrong to ask. The deaths of the former Duke and Duchess of Rotsilt seem to have something to do with it. Isn't that dangerous? Seeing as he's leaving Mastiff, who wants to be the ruler, alone, I think he's helping him with his regime change plan. I, who thought he was tame, gently tugged at Noah's sleeve and asked.
“There’s no danger between you and me, right?”
"You?"
Noah's eyes, once round and round, had returned to their usual sharp gaze. He stared at me with a strangely sad expression, his mouth closed, before finally letting out a sigh.
“Didn’t you say you’d call me honey after we got married?”
“When did I..."
“That’s right.”
I can't remember at all. I think he asked me that question before, but I tried to call him the way he wanted, but my throat got stuck, so I wiped my face like I was washing my face.
“That... I’m not used to it yet.”
“Take your time. I’ll wait.”
He also smiled so beautifully that it seemed dazzling. That's why I can't seem to get used to it. In fact, it's almost hard to believe.
"Countess Rotsilt, I believe you will definitely come, as it is the blooming social season."
A major change after marriage was not just the formality of the invitations, but the increase in invitations for social purposes. Cultural salons, networking parties, sports events. I don't know why they invited me, a married woman, but there were also husband-finding balls, and so on.
“Madam, how about going there at least once?”
Molly, a tight-lipped woman, didn't reveal everything she knew. From what I overheard the maids talking behind my back, it seemed there were rumors that I was uneducated, lacked manners, and was shy, avoiding social interactions. I wouldn't want to go out into the world, where hyenas were everywhere, just because of such rumors. However, the invitation to what appeared to be a reading club piqued my interest.
"I want to share the joy of reading and sharing books. Why not immerse yourself in a new world through vivid letters? I'm sure you'll enjoy it."
The sender was Barbara Chelsea, a Baroness and the daughter of a high-ranking military officer. She was the woman who had previously been the most enthusiastic about dating techniques at the Queen's tea party. With her small, round face, she resembled the robin bird often seen in Medea. As the general's daughter, I thought becoming friendly with her would help me understand the situation better, and she might even prove useful in the future.
“I think I’ll go here.”
"Lady Chelsea Book Club? Yes, I'm sure you'll like it."
Molly nodded expressionlessly. It was a testament to my sophisticated and intellectual tastes.
On the day of the meeting, I suddenly didn't want to go. I was in a fierce conflict over whether to make an excuse of being sick or not, but I ended up leaving the mansion.
I drove to the Chelsea Baron's villa, located on the outskirts of the capital, by the lake. Indeed, the quiet setting made it the perfect place for reading. My host, Barbara, greeted me with a solemn, baby-bird expression.
"I knew you'd come. Actually, I don't invite just anyone."
“Isn’t this a book club?”
"You're right."
It seems she only invites those who, like me, dislike crowds and prefer quiet places. She led me to a reception room with a partition in the middle of the room.
There were about five women my age, with the distinctive black hair of Medea, sitting there. Their eyes were bright and sparkling, suggesting they were passionate students of literature. Barbara, sweeping back her waist-length, curly black hair, snapped her fingers and summoned the maid.
“Now, let us read and discuss freely without anyone’s interruption.”
Until then, I thought it was a gathering of introverts who dreamed of an environment where they could read books quietly without being disturbed.
The maids lined the tables with books. The title of one book, shoved in front of me, was clearly visible.
Ten Thousand Shades of Prejudice
“What is this...? Why are there so many prejudices?”
Only after opening the book did I realize I'd been invited to a very secretive gathering. Still, since I was here, I had to set the mood.
The women began reading, uttering short exclamations like the hooting of geese. Some women kept talking to me, creating a "let's just drop everything and talk about our first loves" atmosphere. As this was a secretive, elite gathering, they seemed unconcerned with status or etiquette.
“How wonderful of you to have such a wonderful husband. I hope to meet a wonderful man this social season.”
Most of the stories were similar to the above. However, a woman named Olivia, a member of the Count of Daywood's family, asked questions as sharp and as sandpaper-like as possible.
“I heard you met the right person. That’s amazing.”
“Who is it?”
Only then did I properly look at Olivia. She had a sharp expression, and her eyes were a ripe olive shade of green with a hint of yellow. Her shoulder-length black hair was tied high with a lace ribbon.
“The Duke of Rotsilt, or rather the Count.”
"Yes."
She blinked her olive eyes, momentarily taken aback by my short answer that cut off all useless information, and then continued speaking.
"He was incredibly popular. He was the kind of love interest every woman dreamed of at least once.”
“Really? I don’t know.”
“Even the Grand Duchess of Margiela, renowned for her beauty, proposed to him. As you know, Princess Erita was also interested in him.”
"Yes."
“That’s why many women are curious.”
Olivia's expression turned a bit cold as she paused. I frowned slightly and rested my chin.
“What?”
The corners of her mouth slightly turned upward at my question, which clearly showed her displeasure.
“How did you get a hold of a man who hurt and made so many women cry?”
I stared blankly at the pile of items, supposedly gifts, with my phone still lit up with messages. They didn't feel particularly special. Standing among the byproducts, wrapped in fancy wrapping paper and left in a heap, I felt like I was adrift in a void.
I took for granted that I could have whatever I wanted whenever I wanted it, and anything I could have, even if I didn't need it, felt useless. At some point, I lost track of what I truly wanted. I had nothing I wanted, nothing I hoped for.
And my parents never came back after my birthday.
“I didn’t expect that.”
***
“Are you awake?”
A familiar voice woke me. My eyelids felt heavy. The light streaming through my narrowed eyes seemed like a gap between dream and reality.
"Yes?"
I rubbed my eyes and completely shook off the sleep. The sky above Loganfield was filled with black smoke billowing ceaselessly from the factory chimneys, and the streets bustled with people in traditional attire.
The train rattled against the cracks in the tracks. Only when I saw the still-unfamiliar scenery outside did I realize it was a dream.
We were returning from our honeymoon and heading back to the mansion. I cleared my throat and asked slowly.
“Have we arrived at the capital already?”
“Yeah. I feel like you're falling asleep whenever you're in the car. What did you dream about?”
“I don’t remember.”
Noah, sitting in the driver's seat, stared at me with his ever-present smile. He occasionally asked me what I was dreaming about, wondering if I was just talking nonsense in my sleep.
“Am I talking in my sleep?”
“You snore.”
What? I sat up straighter.
"Really?"
"Yes."
“How much is it?”
“I woke up in surprise, thinking a tank was passing by.”
Noah, it seems, had been having some unspoken struggles with sleeping with me. I was wondering if I was triggering his PTSD every night when I saw the roof of our house in the distance. He added.
“I don’t think it’s a good dream.”
"Why?"
“So I slept with you every day to protect you. Isn’t that cool?”
I didn't ask why, but since he's a man who only says what he wants to say, I nodded with a very grateful expression.
Molly appeared at the front door of the mansion to greet us. Standing upright, she held a gold envelope emblazoned with the royal coat of arms in her right hand.
"I hope you had a good honeymoon. The royal family sent an invitation to a commemorative ceremony. Perhaps because of the ongoing war between the two countries, it doesn't seem to be as grand as I'd heard."
Molly handed me an envelope. I hesitated for a moment, then realized belatedly that I was now the hostess, so I quickly accepted it. I was starting to worry about whether I should attend social events for networking purposes. I didn't want to go.
“A memorial service?”
"Yes, it's the Queen's birthday. Many events and festivals will be held during the month-long celebration. Many people from autonomous and friendly nations are expected to attend. Additionally, ambassadors from six countries, all members of international organizations, are expected to visit."
At the end, Molly's gray eyes turned to Noah.
He had been listening without much interest, but he chuckled.
“They must be trying to change the international law of wartime.”
“Since new weapons are being developed so quickly, isn’t it possible that they are trying to regulate them?”
At Molly's cautious question, which was held with her hands clasped together, Noah loosened his tie and tilted his head.
“No, it’s the opposite. It’s allowed.”
I silently listened to Noah and Molly's conversation. As soon as the honeymoon ended, a tangible worry weighed heavily on my chest. I feared the possibility of another war. Medea, one of the continent's major powers, would undoubtedly be at the center of it. What if Noah were to be sent to fight in it by the Queen's order? I gently tugged at Noah's sleeve and asked.
“Is war imminent?”
"Yes."
He answered as if nothing had happened, taking my hand and leading me. He didn't even ask if I had eaten, and it was war.
“Even now, there is war going on elsewhere, and it is not the end of the war, but a ceasefire.”
“I know that, but...”
“Don’t worry. I’ll protect you.”
No, I'm worried about that!
"You don't have to protect me. Let's figure out a way to escape together. There must be countries here that don't participate in war."
It was a very serious suggestion, but Noah laughed it off as if he had heard a silly joke.
"This is the safest place. Honey, you know a lot and worry a lot."
My shoulders slumped at the word "honey." Only after the powerful word dispelled all unnecessary thoughts did I realize we were already in the bedroom, and that the man was about to pin me to the bed.
“Suddenly, as soon as we arrived?”
"No?"
“No.”
"Yes."
The surprisingly obedient man slowly rolled up his sleeves and sat down on the edge of the bed. His face was filled with regret, but he seemed to value mutual understanding. I took off my coat and asked him about something I hadn't asked before.
“But this is the safest place?”
“Because in the end, this place will become the victorious country.”
“What about Frogen?”
At my question, his straight jawline lifted slightly. He lifted the tip of his nose, curved his lips, and hummed in response.
"It'll disappear. Long ago, the Rotsilt family and the Medea royal family secretly collaborated on a plan."
“What are your plans?”
“Getting rid of Frogen.”
No matter how much I think about it, I was wrong to ask. The deaths of the former Duke and Duchess of Rotsilt seem to have something to do with it. Isn't that dangerous? Seeing as he's leaving Mastiff, who wants to be the ruler, alone, I think he's helping him with his regime change plan. I, who thought he was tame, gently tugged at Noah's sleeve and asked.
“There’s no danger between you and me, right?”
"You?"
Noah's eyes, once round and round, had returned to their usual sharp gaze. He stared at me with a strangely sad expression, his mouth closed, before finally letting out a sigh.
“Didn’t you say you’d call me honey after we got married?”
“When did I..."
“That’s right.”
I can't remember at all. I think he asked me that question before, but I tried to call him the way he wanted, but my throat got stuck, so I wiped my face like I was washing my face.
“That... I’m not used to it yet.”
“Take your time. I’ll wait.”
He also smiled so beautifully that it seemed dazzling. That's why I can't seem to get used to it. In fact, it's almost hard to believe.
***
"Countess Rotsilt, I believe you will definitely come, as it is the blooming social season."
A major change after marriage was not just the formality of the invitations, but the increase in invitations for social purposes. Cultural salons, networking parties, sports events. I don't know why they invited me, a married woman, but there were also husband-finding balls, and so on.
“Madam, how about going there at least once?”
Molly, a tight-lipped woman, didn't reveal everything she knew. From what I overheard the maids talking behind my back, it seemed there were rumors that I was uneducated, lacked manners, and was shy, avoiding social interactions. I wouldn't want to go out into the world, where hyenas were everywhere, just because of such rumors. However, the invitation to what appeared to be a reading club piqued my interest.
"I want to share the joy of reading and sharing books. Why not immerse yourself in a new world through vivid letters? I'm sure you'll enjoy it."
The sender was Barbara Chelsea, a Baroness and the daughter of a high-ranking military officer. She was the woman who had previously been the most enthusiastic about dating techniques at the Queen's tea party. With her small, round face, she resembled the robin bird often seen in Medea. As the general's daughter, I thought becoming friendly with her would help me understand the situation better, and she might even prove useful in the future.
“I think I’ll go here.”
"Lady Chelsea Book Club? Yes, I'm sure you'll like it."
Molly nodded expressionlessly. It was a testament to my sophisticated and intellectual tastes.
On the day of the meeting, I suddenly didn't want to go. I was in a fierce conflict over whether to make an excuse of being sick or not, but I ended up leaving the mansion.
I drove to the Chelsea Baron's villa, located on the outskirts of the capital, by the lake. Indeed, the quiet setting made it the perfect place for reading. My host, Barbara, greeted me with a solemn, baby-bird expression.
"I knew you'd come. Actually, I don't invite just anyone."
“Isn’t this a book club?”
"You're right."
It seems she only invites those who, like me, dislike crowds and prefer quiet places. She led me to a reception room with a partition in the middle of the room.
There were about five women my age, with the distinctive black hair of Medea, sitting there. Their eyes were bright and sparkling, suggesting they were passionate students of literature. Barbara, sweeping back her waist-length, curly black hair, snapped her fingers and summoned the maid.
“Now, let us read and discuss freely without anyone’s interruption.”
Until then, I thought it was a gathering of introverts who dreamed of an environment where they could read books quietly without being disturbed.
The maids lined the tables with books. The title of one book, shoved in front of me, was clearly visible.
Ten Thousand Shades of Prejudice
“What is this...? Why are there so many prejudices?”
Only after opening the book did I realize I'd been invited to a very secretive gathering. Still, since I was here, I had to set the mood.
The women began reading, uttering short exclamations like the hooting of geese. Some women kept talking to me, creating a "let's just drop everything and talk about our first loves" atmosphere. As this was a secretive, elite gathering, they seemed unconcerned with status or etiquette.
“How wonderful of you to have such a wonderful husband. I hope to meet a wonderful man this social season.”
Most of the stories were similar to the above. However, a woman named Olivia, a member of the Count of Daywood's family, asked questions as sharp and as sandpaper-like as possible.
“I heard you met the right person. That’s amazing.”
“Who is it?”
Only then did I properly look at Olivia. She had a sharp expression, and her eyes were a ripe olive shade of green with a hint of yellow. Her shoulder-length black hair was tied high with a lace ribbon.
“The Duke of Rotsilt, or rather the Count.”
"Yes."
She blinked her olive eyes, momentarily taken aback by my short answer that cut off all useless information, and then continued speaking.
"He was incredibly popular. He was the kind of love interest every woman dreamed of at least once.”
“Really? I don’t know.”
“Even the Grand Duchess of Margiela, renowned for her beauty, proposed to him. As you know, Princess Erita was also interested in him.”
"Yes."
“That’s why many women are curious.”
Olivia's expression turned a bit cold as she paused. I frowned slightly and rested my chin.
“What?”
The corners of her mouth slightly turned upward at my question, which clearly showed her displeasure.
“How did you get a hold of a man who hurt and made so many women cry?”
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