“Let’s do next week. Dragging it out only wastes time.”
“I couldn’t agree more, Dowager Duchess. Better to get it done quickly — that’s one less week between now and meeting our grandchildren.”
‘Mother, please—’
This is a formal family meeting. You can’t just rush through a formal family meeting like this.
“Goodness, grandchildren — my heart is already fluttering at the thought. I’ll be honest — I rather hope they take after our new daughter than after my son. The boy is too cold by half. A daughter who takes after our Ivelina, and I’d hand over my very heart — haha.”
“You’re too kind, sir. But a man ought to have a certain strength about him. I find my future son-in-law to be exactly the right measure — there’s a firmness to him, a sense that he could protect what matters. Our Jacqueline, I’m afraid, is a bit too soft for a young man — I do wonder what’s to be done with him.”
‘He’s more than strong enough, Father — that’s actually the problem.’
“Since the subject’s come up — dear, have you two given any thought to children?”
“I — I beg your pardon? Children?”
“We have no immediate plans.”
“Tch. The boy. So stiff.”
‘Thank goodness. Kael saved me.’
“Dowager Duchess — how many grandchildren do you have in mind?”
“Oh, the more the better — but I do worry about our girl’s constitution. She’s always seemed rather delicate.”
“This is perhaps a little forward of me.”
Carson leaned in with an air of significance.
“I was thinking… four. Would be rather nice. I’m sorry for never giving you a daughter.”
‘Father-in-law. Are you trying to be the end of me?’
* * *
“Emily! We have a crisis!”
“What’s happened?”
“I just came from the formal family meeting. What do I do?”
“You — the meeting already happened? Just like that?”
“Father showed up out of nowhere and — the ‘wedding date’ has been set! Next week!”
“Oh dear. So the wedding is actually happening.”
“It’s not decided yet! Isn’t there any way out of this?”
“With only a week left, the only option would be to run for your life. And that seems rather worse than just getting married, doesn’t it?”
“…You’re telling me to get married?”
“Yes. Honestly — going through with the wedding and then getting divorced afterward seems considerably more manageable.”
“Divorced?”
“Divorced.”
‘Why hadn’t I thought of that?’
“Divorce might actually… work.”
“Wouldn’t it?”
It wasn’t as though he was going to kill me right this moment. If I married him, found suitable grounds, and was divorced—
“It could work. It genuinely could.”
* * *
Emily and I returned to the Black Information Guild.
Having been there before, the Guildmaster received us like familiar customers.
But there was no time for pleasantries. I was getting married next week.
“What I need today is information on how to get divorced.”
“Oh — so you actually went through with the engagement? With that possessive fiancé of yours?”
“Not yet. The wedding is next week.”
“Ah. I see. Hmm.”
The Guildmaster stroked the chin of his mask and fell into contemplation — the sort of theatrically deliberate pause that precedes something supposedly momentous.
“The window for an identity change has passed, at any rate. It seems the only path is to go ahead and marry.”
“Yes. Which is why I’m asking how to get divorced afterward.”
“I — ‘what?'”
The Guildmaster jolted. His mask swayed precariously.
“Your determination is truly remarkable. But — why go to such lengths?”
“There are many reasons.”
He must have read the firmness in my answer because he followed up in a deeply meaningful voice:
“…Is your fiancé very unattractive?”
“No. He’s extremely handsome.”
“Then why are you fighting this so hard?”
“I care about inner character.”
“Of course you do. Inner character is what matters.”
He seemed to accept this entirely, nodding with ponderous gravity.
“Anyway — the method for obtaining a divorce?”
“Let’s see. Divorce. The thing is — I have no personal experience with divorce.”
“…And?”
“Which means I may not know the details.”
‘What kind of information guild is this?’ Called the empire’s premier intelligence organization, and this was what we got?
“Then — is there a knowledgeable divorce lawyer you could recommend?”
“Are you certain that’s wise?”
“In what sense?”
“Seeking information through official channels means your whereabouts and the details of your consultation could become public knowledge.”
“A lawyer would share a client’s information? This isn’t a back-alley operation. Once a formal contract of representation is signed, confidentiality is binding.”
“Think carefully, my lady.”
The Guildmaster leaned toward us with an air of grave importance.
“About what?”
“Your fiancé — whoever he may be — do you think he lacks the capability to find out?”
“…He almost certainly has it.”
“The reason I rose to this position is precisely this advantage. The shadow world. Secrecy as a tool — that is its greatest strength.”
The conversation kept circling.
Actual useful information made up less than ten percent of what was being said — the rest was pure self-advertisement.
On any other day I might have let it go, but I had no time to spare.
“So. Getting to the point. Would the distinguished Guildmaster be so kind as to recommend a method for obtaining a divorce?”
“This is somewhat delicate to raise, but…”
“Please speak freely.”
“Marriage being what it is, I’ll tell you plainly. Are you familiar with the term ‘right of refusal on the wedding night’?”
“Refusing the consummation?”
“Yes. And your fiancé is a nobleman, I believe you said?”
“He is.”
“Then this method is both reliable and straightforward. What is the primary duty of a noblewoman above all else?”
“The duty to produce an heir.”
“Precisely. Therefore — if the wedding night is refused, grounds for a divorce petition are established.”
‘But can I actually refuse?’
I had never once successfully refused him. Not even once.
And after the wedding, I would no longer be in the annex — I would be in the main house. Which meant he might be even less restrained than before.
“Alternatively — there is this option as well. If the wedding night does not take place at all, the marriage can be declared void.”
“‘Void?!'”
“Yes. He would become, in the eyes of the law, as if he had never existed in your life.”
“Wait — the methods you’ve just described. They’re actually quite promising.”
“As I said — reliable. There are many noblewomen who have been divorced for exactly this reason. Quite a few among my own clients.”
But there was one point I needed to clarify.
“About that.”
“Yes?”
“The definition of the wedding night…”
“Oh — I’ve been indelicate with a lady. Forgive me. The wedding night, in this context, means ‘the first night after the wedding ceremony.'”
Emily and I turned to look at each other at exactly the same moment.
And at exactly the same moment, we both gave a single nod, exchanging our unspoken conclusion.
‘Perfect.’
* * *
