A chilling silence fell over the banquet hall due to Erita's drunken behavior.
The maids helped Erita up, and Molly, who had come over in a hurry, covered me with the coat she was wearing.
Vincent heard the sound of Noah, who was standing with the Duke of Hessen, nervously placing the wine in his hand on the table.
Queen Grace II stood motionless, staring at me. Everyone sitting at the table rose and bowed in respect.
The Queen's face, so pale it was eerily pale, sent shivers down her spine.
“Zelda.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Baroness Mason, who had been standing in a daze, holding a dessert spoon, suddenly came to her senses and, extending one elbow, answered. The Queen's white finger pointed toward Erita, who was barely standing, supported by her maid.
“Please take her to her room. Princess, have you forgotten to maintain your Medea dignity?”
“I’m sorry.”
Only then did Erita grasp the situation, and, as if completely sobered, shook off the maid's hand, stood on her own two feet, and bowed to the Queen, apologizing.
The Queen's cold, sharp eyes scanned her with a sharp, cutting gaze.
“If you really want to get married, I will grant your wish.”
"Yes?"
She was planning to take one of the children of the prestigious Medea family as her son-in-law. The eyes of the nobles—politicians, businessmen, bureaucrats, and others with sons her age—gleamed.
Erita's face began to turn pale, almost bluish, as she realized the Queen's intentions. She staggered, not from intoxication, but from a desperate shock.
In the end, she disappeared from sight as if dragged away by the Baroness and her maids.
Noah, who had come closer before I knew it, called me.
“Diana.”
"Yes."
“Let’s go now.”
"Is it so?"
Even without the main characters, the banquet continues. Noah turned to the Queen, holding my hand, and smiled.
"It's too late, Your Majesty," he seemed to say. She looked at us with a plaster-like expression, her voice heavy and hushed.
“I never asked.”
The Queen, who had approached me gently, placed a hand on my shoulder and gently grasped the hem of my coat as if she were about to take it off. She must have noticed the butterfly-shaped spot on my shoulder blade.
“Miss Diana, do you really not know anything about your mother?”
The expression I'm making now is no different from the one Celine and Noah are making. We, burdened with the same concern, maintained a seemingly impassive expression and remained silent.
Celine, who took a step forward and bowed politely to the Queen, broke the vague silence and spoke first.
"Your Majesty, I heard she's already passed away. Neither Diana nor I have ever seen her."
"Yes."
Celine, too, found the Queen's cold gaze unbearable, lowered her eyes, and bowed her head. Without further questioning, she prepared to leave, beckoning her maids to her.
“I’m going back now. Congratulations on your wedding.”
“It is an honor. God bless Her Majesty Queen Grace II.”
Celine and I bowed politely, clutching the hem of our skirts. As Celine watched the Queen's back as she slowly walked away, the sound of her holding her breath echoed.
"That person can overwhelm people with just her gaze. She's similar to you."
"Why is she tripping over me like that? I almost got hurt if they found out."
“Who would believe what a drunk person says?”
Celine covered her mouth and smiled softly. I imagined it would be incredibly tiring to continue having such a cunning woman as my enemy. Of course, if our positions were to clash, she would always turn against me.
“Why did the Queen suddenly ask about your mother?”
I felt exhausted from the tremendous emotional expenditure, so I stood there, clinging to Noah's arm.
Celine's question weighed unbearably heavy on me, and I touched my forehead. Although Erita's intrusion had caused chaos, the wedding ultimately ended without incident, so it was all good.
Even if it was revealed that I was a Princess, I would just leave for another country, and that would be the end of it, I said, dismissing it lightly.
“Well, even if it comes out, you won’t die. But.”
My image was faintly reflected in Celine's clear green eyes. I can't remember what I originally looked like.
“The moment you turn your back on me, you will die.”
“I know.”
She smiled brightly, covering her mouth with the back of her hand, as if she already knew everything. Celine said she planned to return to Belford early tomorrow morning.
She asked me if I would be willing to come to her wedding, which had been postponed to the first of next month, but I firmly refused.
“Have a nice trip.”
Vincent, who drove me to the port, handed me my boarding pass.
Two servants followed us, carrying our bags. Since we didn't spend much time grooming ourselves, we didn't really need a maid. Molly offered to come with us, but I decided to give her a break for her hard work.
“Vincent, also provide a report comparing the reserves of the three countries.”
At Noah's bright voice, he touched his forehead and assumed the look of someone suffering from a severe migraine. Apparently, Vincent doesn't have any vacations.
Our destination was at the southern tip of the Veria Peninsula, and we had to disembark at Francia and take a train to Helis.
Standing on the deck railing of the cruise ship, I looked down at the crashing blue waves and couldn't help but sigh at the intense travel schedule.
The reason I chose such a far-off honeymoon destination was, firstly, because the place I saw in the guidebook was similar to my original vacation spot.
The second reason is the anachronistic idea that it only takes two hours by plane.
After realizing that there were fighter jets in this world, but no large passenger aircraft yet, I hit the ground in regret, but I decided to go ahead with it, thinking that if not now, when else would I ever get to ride the train here?
So I regret it.
The train I got off the ship on around dusk felt strangely familiar.
The express train, nicknamed the "Ladies' Journey" and used primarily by the upper class, had a classic feel, reminiscent of those seen in classic movies, with amenities such as bars and restaurants and rooms reminiscent of the interiors of luxurious European mansions.
In the world I lived in, there was a special express train with this Belle Époque concept. It was famous as a setting for mystery novels, and I remember it being built in the late 19th century and still running until the present day.
As soon as I entered the train car, I finished showering and lay down on the wide bed, looking out the window at the illusory night view passing by quickly.
"I'll be there the next afternoon. The party starts at 9 o'clock, so if you want, go. Hmm, that's some good wine."
Noah, sitting on the edge of the bed, spoke while looking around the wine that was placed in the room.
"Party..."
How many parties have I attended since coming here, even though my fate was not in my favor? If I were an outgoing, extroverted person, I might have gone crazy every day, attending parties, balls, and social gatherings, completely dominating the social scene.
I shook my head slowly, not having the confidence to get back up again, as I was the complete opposite of that.
“I don’t want to go.”
"Yes."
Noah, who had been elegantly swirling red wine in his wine glass, sniffing the aroma, narrowed his eyes, and his lips curved loosely. Holding the clear wine glass, he took my hand in his own and gently squeezed it, adding, "What's the matter with you?"
“Then shall we sleep?”
“It’s only 8 o’clock, should I go to sleep?”
“Yeah. Sleep with me.”
“I’m not sleepy yet.”
It was a thoughtless reply. Noah lowered his posture, bringing his nose so close they almost touched, and his sharp jawline gradually tilted.
“That would be better.”
I paused for a moment, wondering what on earth he was talking about. It didn't take long for me to realize that his suggestion of "sleep with me" had a crude connotation.
“That... I’d like some wine too.”
I reached out because I thought it would be difficult for me to accept it in my right mind.
I brought my lips to the wine glass instead.
A sip or so of wine filled my mouth, its dry yet fragrant flavor slowly spreading through me. Even before the lukewarm, yet somehow hot, alcohol had begun to pass down my esophagus, my face flushed.
There's no way you can get drunk on just one sip.
“Would you like more?”
What?
Before I knew it, I was trapped between his firm body and the heat of the sheets, unable to move a finger.
His languid gaze, trailing from my eyes to my lips, felt like a silent command. Even though we had slept together often, the situation before me felt unreal, like something from another world.
Caught in such intense tension, I held my breath tightly, even my exhalations cautiously, and remained still. In contrast, Noah's breath, coming and going in and out in short bursts, touched my cheek.
"Excuse me..."
I folded my clenched hands over my chest and looked up at him with a frightened expression on my face. Suddenly, this man felt unfamiliar, and I couldn't hide my awkwardness, as if I were dealing with someone I didn't know.
“Over there.”
Noah chuckled. He paid no attention to my tension and roughly pulled on my tie, as if cutting the string that had been tied around it. The collar of his shirt, always buttoned up, fell apart, just like my sanity.
“I am your husband.”
Ah, those crazy eyes. Those red, wet eyes, perhaps looking vulnerable, narrowed.
“I’ve been holding back a bit. Do you understand?”
"Yes?"
I asked back even though I knew everything.
Instead of answering, the man revealed his deeply buried true colors and gave a strange, sly smile. His cloudy eyes, wrapped around my waist, were devoid of all the gentleness and affection he'd shown before.
As I slowly avoided the cold gaze, he grabbed my shoulder and pressed down on me with force.
I quickly raised my gaze from where it was on Noah's lips and met his eyes. He took a deep breath and kissed me urgently.
It was different from anything I'd done before, from the very beginning. It was like preparing to embark on a long, distant journey through the night.
I unconsciously shrugged my shoulders as a hand boldly touched me with a clearly different intention than before.
“These pajamas are my style.”
He whispered, caressing the straps of my thin silk slip and gently kissing my shoulder.
“And you too.”
The sight of a beautiful man who has lost all sense of reason and is half-mad is fantastic.
“Oh, wait a minute... wait a minute.”
Overwhelmed by the overwhelming excitement, I repeatedly squeezed and released the hand he was holding tightly.
“Don’t worry, just hold on a little longer.”
He gave me a kind, reassuring look, but it was more like false persuasion.
“It would be better.”
He, who had always spoken with a measured tone, smiled with a threatening yet sensual smile. The adjectives "restraint" and "asceticism" had long since been lost.
That sight is so captivating that at first glance, one might think that it is a devil transformed into a charming human.
Just the sight of a decadent gaze clinging to me with obvious intent sends a shiver down my spine, unbearable. Although this is my first time, I'm not inexperienced, but it's strange. Is this man skilled?
My heart pounded against my chest, racing and shaking my body. The circuits in my head seemed to snap, but then one thing came to mind, clear and vivid, and I closed my eyes.
The tension and fear of becoming completely one with another soon gave way to ecstasy. Even the intermittent, rough breath on my skin made me feel a burning sensation, so I threw my head back and gasped.
My hands gripped his shoulders, which had become even tighter. I buried my face in the crook of his neck and muttered a sigh.
"Please."
Not knowing what I wanted myself, I grabbed him and begged him to tell me.
“What do you want?”
I didn't even have the energy to respond to the languid voice that asked with a hint of laughter, so I simply sent a silent signal by tightening my grip on his shoulder.
He licked away the tears from my eyes as if to comfort me as I sobbed from the excessive sensation, and whispered to me in a languid tone.
“Good.”
I don't know how long we've been apart, but he looks at me with eyes that endlessly desire and greed, as if trying to satisfy an unquenchable thirst.
“I’ve been very considerate of you so far. Right?”
“Noah.”
“So there’s no use crying.”
The impeccable male, who had stopped me from making any excuses, licked my lower lip and chuckled.
The noble and ascetic appearance he had shown me until then had turned into a fierce person, as if he were a different person, and he grabbed me and dragged me into a night of vulgar and decadent pleasure.
The maids helped Erita up, and Molly, who had come over in a hurry, covered me with the coat she was wearing.
Vincent heard the sound of Noah, who was standing with the Duke of Hessen, nervously placing the wine in his hand on the table.
Queen Grace II stood motionless, staring at me. Everyone sitting at the table rose and bowed in respect.
The Queen's face, so pale it was eerily pale, sent shivers down her spine.
“Zelda.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Baroness Mason, who had been standing in a daze, holding a dessert spoon, suddenly came to her senses and, extending one elbow, answered. The Queen's white finger pointed toward Erita, who was barely standing, supported by her maid.
“Please take her to her room. Princess, have you forgotten to maintain your Medea dignity?”
“I’m sorry.”
Only then did Erita grasp the situation, and, as if completely sobered, shook off the maid's hand, stood on her own two feet, and bowed to the Queen, apologizing.
The Queen's cold, sharp eyes scanned her with a sharp, cutting gaze.
“If you really want to get married, I will grant your wish.”
"Yes?"
She was planning to take one of the children of the prestigious Medea family as her son-in-law. The eyes of the nobles—politicians, businessmen, bureaucrats, and others with sons her age—gleamed.
Erita's face began to turn pale, almost bluish, as she realized the Queen's intentions. She staggered, not from intoxication, but from a desperate shock.
In the end, she disappeared from sight as if dragged away by the Baroness and her maids.
Noah, who had come closer before I knew it, called me.
“Diana.”
"Yes."
“Let’s go now.”
"Is it so?"
Even without the main characters, the banquet continues. Noah turned to the Queen, holding my hand, and smiled.
"It's too late, Your Majesty," he seemed to say. She looked at us with a plaster-like expression, her voice heavy and hushed.
“I never asked.”
The Queen, who had approached me gently, placed a hand on my shoulder and gently grasped the hem of my coat as if she were about to take it off. She must have noticed the butterfly-shaped spot on my shoulder blade.
“Miss Diana, do you really not know anything about your mother?”
The expression I'm making now is no different from the one Celine and Noah are making. We, burdened with the same concern, maintained a seemingly impassive expression and remained silent.
Celine, who took a step forward and bowed politely to the Queen, broke the vague silence and spoke first.
"Your Majesty, I heard she's already passed away. Neither Diana nor I have ever seen her."
"Yes."
Celine, too, found the Queen's cold gaze unbearable, lowered her eyes, and bowed her head. Without further questioning, she prepared to leave, beckoning her maids to her.
“I’m going back now. Congratulations on your wedding.”
“It is an honor. God bless Her Majesty Queen Grace II.”
Celine and I bowed politely, clutching the hem of our skirts. As Celine watched the Queen's back as she slowly walked away, the sound of her holding her breath echoed.
"That person can overwhelm people with just her gaze. She's similar to you."
"Why is she tripping over me like that? I almost got hurt if they found out."
“Who would believe what a drunk person says?”
Celine covered her mouth and smiled softly. I imagined it would be incredibly tiring to continue having such a cunning woman as my enemy. Of course, if our positions were to clash, she would always turn against me.
“Why did the Queen suddenly ask about your mother?”
I felt exhausted from the tremendous emotional expenditure, so I stood there, clinging to Noah's arm.
Celine's question weighed unbearably heavy on me, and I touched my forehead. Although Erita's intrusion had caused chaos, the wedding ultimately ended without incident, so it was all good.
Even if it was revealed that I was a Princess, I would just leave for another country, and that would be the end of it, I said, dismissing it lightly.
“Well, even if it comes out, you won’t die. But.”
My image was faintly reflected in Celine's clear green eyes. I can't remember what I originally looked like.
“The moment you turn your back on me, you will die.”
“I know.”
She smiled brightly, covering her mouth with the back of her hand, as if she already knew everything. Celine said she planned to return to Belford early tomorrow morning.
She asked me if I would be willing to come to her wedding, which had been postponed to the first of next month, but I firmly refused.
***
“Have a nice trip.”
Vincent, who drove me to the port, handed me my boarding pass.
Two servants followed us, carrying our bags. Since we didn't spend much time grooming ourselves, we didn't really need a maid. Molly offered to come with us, but I decided to give her a break for her hard work.
“Vincent, also provide a report comparing the reserves of the three countries.”
At Noah's bright voice, he touched his forehead and assumed the look of someone suffering from a severe migraine. Apparently, Vincent doesn't have any vacations.
Our destination was at the southern tip of the Veria Peninsula, and we had to disembark at Francia and take a train to Helis.
Standing on the deck railing of the cruise ship, I looked down at the crashing blue waves and couldn't help but sigh at the intense travel schedule.
The reason I chose such a far-off honeymoon destination was, firstly, because the place I saw in the guidebook was similar to my original vacation spot.
The second reason is the anachronistic idea that it only takes two hours by plane.
After realizing that there were fighter jets in this world, but no large passenger aircraft yet, I hit the ground in regret, but I decided to go ahead with it, thinking that if not now, when else would I ever get to ride the train here?
So I regret it.
The train I got off the ship on around dusk felt strangely familiar.
The express train, nicknamed the "Ladies' Journey" and used primarily by the upper class, had a classic feel, reminiscent of those seen in classic movies, with amenities such as bars and restaurants and rooms reminiscent of the interiors of luxurious European mansions.
In the world I lived in, there was a special express train with this Belle Époque concept. It was famous as a setting for mystery novels, and I remember it being built in the late 19th century and still running until the present day.
As soon as I entered the train car, I finished showering and lay down on the wide bed, looking out the window at the illusory night view passing by quickly.
"I'll be there the next afternoon. The party starts at 9 o'clock, so if you want, go. Hmm, that's some good wine."
Noah, sitting on the edge of the bed, spoke while looking around the wine that was placed in the room.
"Party..."
How many parties have I attended since coming here, even though my fate was not in my favor? If I were an outgoing, extroverted person, I might have gone crazy every day, attending parties, balls, and social gatherings, completely dominating the social scene.
I shook my head slowly, not having the confidence to get back up again, as I was the complete opposite of that.
“I don’t want to go.”
"Yes."
Noah, who had been elegantly swirling red wine in his wine glass, sniffing the aroma, narrowed his eyes, and his lips curved loosely. Holding the clear wine glass, he took my hand in his own and gently squeezed it, adding, "What's the matter with you?"
“Then shall we sleep?”
“It’s only 8 o’clock, should I go to sleep?”
“Yeah. Sleep with me.”
“I’m not sleepy yet.”
It was a thoughtless reply. Noah lowered his posture, bringing his nose so close they almost touched, and his sharp jawline gradually tilted.
“That would be better.”
I paused for a moment, wondering what on earth he was talking about. It didn't take long for me to realize that his suggestion of "sleep with me" had a crude connotation.
“That... I’d like some wine too.”
I reached out because I thought it would be difficult for me to accept it in my right mind.
I brought my lips to the wine glass instead.
A sip or so of wine filled my mouth, its dry yet fragrant flavor slowly spreading through me. Even before the lukewarm, yet somehow hot, alcohol had begun to pass down my esophagus, my face flushed.
There's no way you can get drunk on just one sip.
“Would you like more?”
What?
Before I knew it, I was trapped between his firm body and the heat of the sheets, unable to move a finger.
His languid gaze, trailing from my eyes to my lips, felt like a silent command. Even though we had slept together often, the situation before me felt unreal, like something from another world.
Caught in such intense tension, I held my breath tightly, even my exhalations cautiously, and remained still. In contrast, Noah's breath, coming and going in and out in short bursts, touched my cheek.
"Excuse me..."
I folded my clenched hands over my chest and looked up at him with a frightened expression on my face. Suddenly, this man felt unfamiliar, and I couldn't hide my awkwardness, as if I were dealing with someone I didn't know.
“Over there.”
Noah chuckled. He paid no attention to my tension and roughly pulled on my tie, as if cutting the string that had been tied around it. The collar of his shirt, always buttoned up, fell apart, just like my sanity.
“I am your husband.”
Ah, those crazy eyes. Those red, wet eyes, perhaps looking vulnerable, narrowed.
“I’ve been holding back a bit. Do you understand?”
"Yes?"
I asked back even though I knew everything.
Instead of answering, the man revealed his deeply buried true colors and gave a strange, sly smile. His cloudy eyes, wrapped around my waist, were devoid of all the gentleness and affection he'd shown before.
As I slowly avoided the cold gaze, he grabbed my shoulder and pressed down on me with force.
I quickly raised my gaze from where it was on Noah's lips and met his eyes. He took a deep breath and kissed me urgently.
It was different from anything I'd done before, from the very beginning. It was like preparing to embark on a long, distant journey through the night.
I unconsciously shrugged my shoulders as a hand boldly touched me with a clearly different intention than before.
“These pajamas are my style.”
He whispered, caressing the straps of my thin silk slip and gently kissing my shoulder.
“And you too.”
The sight of a beautiful man who has lost all sense of reason and is half-mad is fantastic.
“Oh, wait a minute... wait a minute.”
Overwhelmed by the overwhelming excitement, I repeatedly squeezed and released the hand he was holding tightly.
“Don’t worry, just hold on a little longer.”
He gave me a kind, reassuring look, but it was more like false persuasion.
“It would be better.”
He, who had always spoken with a measured tone, smiled with a threatening yet sensual smile. The adjectives "restraint" and "asceticism" had long since been lost.
That sight is so captivating that at first glance, one might think that it is a devil transformed into a charming human.
Just the sight of a decadent gaze clinging to me with obvious intent sends a shiver down my spine, unbearable. Although this is my first time, I'm not inexperienced, but it's strange. Is this man skilled?
My heart pounded against my chest, racing and shaking my body. The circuits in my head seemed to snap, but then one thing came to mind, clear and vivid, and I closed my eyes.
The tension and fear of becoming completely one with another soon gave way to ecstasy. Even the intermittent, rough breath on my skin made me feel a burning sensation, so I threw my head back and gasped.
My hands gripped his shoulders, which had become even tighter. I buried my face in the crook of his neck and muttered a sigh.
"Please."
Not knowing what I wanted myself, I grabbed him and begged him to tell me.
“What do you want?”
I didn't even have the energy to respond to the languid voice that asked with a hint of laughter, so I simply sent a silent signal by tightening my grip on his shoulder.
He licked away the tears from my eyes as if to comfort me as I sobbed from the excessive sensation, and whispered to me in a languid tone.
“Good.”
I don't know how long we've been apart, but he looks at me with eyes that endlessly desire and greed, as if trying to satisfy an unquenchable thirst.
“I’ve been very considerate of you so far. Right?”
“Noah.”
“So there’s no use crying.”
The impeccable male, who had stopped me from making any excuses, licked my lower lip and chuckled.
The noble and ascetic appearance he had shown me until then had turned into a fierce person, as if he were a different person, and he grabbed me and dragged me into a night of vulgar and decadent pleasure.
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