Chapter 159: A Night That Hasn’t Even Begun
“Wahaha, oh my. We look like quite the pair!”
Marquis Hugo erupted in boisterous laughter.
He was dressed in a low-saturation navy jacket layered over a black shirt. It bore a striking resemblance to Damian’s ensemble, right down to the black cravat he had chosen.
Far from minding the familial similarity in their attire with his son-in-law, the marquis wore a pleased expression as he patted Damian’s shoulder with warm familiarity.
“It feels just like matching outfits with my own son. So that’s why people call a son-in-law another son.”
“I would be honored if you see me that way.”
Damian dipped his head lightly in a courteous reply. The marchioness smiled with evident satisfaction as she praised him.
“My goodness, Damian, you even speak so gracefully. I’ve always thought this, but your personality is as fine and well-mannered as your striking looks.”
“The more I see him, the more it makes sense why our Aracila suddenly brought him home as her groom. My daughter takes after me—she has excellent taste.”
The marquis whipped his head toward his wife, winking as he added.
“Just like how I fell for you at first sight, my dear May.”
“Oh, you.”
Her cheeks flushing, the marchioness shyly swatted her husband’s chest.
Thud. The sound rang out sharply, as if it might sting, but the marquis kept his face composed, unfazed.
Aracila regarded her parents’ display of affection with calm detachment, a routine they performed without ever seeming to tire. It was such a commonplace sight by now that it stirred no particular emotion in her.
After subtly rubbing the spot where he’d been hit, the marquis cleared his throat and spoke.
“Anyway, I’m truly delighted to be attending the New Year’s ceremony with my daughter and son-in-law. Once Iris marries too, I’ll have two sons-in-law who feel like sons. Just the thought of it… it makes me so happy.”
His smile, however, betrayed an ambiguity—whether it stemmed from joy or sorrow was unclear. The expansion of the family brought gladness, yet the prospect of sending another daughter away tore at his heart.
In the end, clutching his chest, the marquis began muttering, ‘Ugh, our daughters, who were like little bunnies—when did they grow up so…’
“Oh dear, just pretend you didn’t hear this doting fool. It’s nothing but wonderful when daughters marry and build their own homes, isn’t it?”
The marchioness shook her head in mock exasperation, waving her hand dismissively. Then, taking Damian’s hand with gentle affection, she continued.
“I can’t express how wonderful it is to have Damian as part of our family. It’s like gaining a steadfast eldest son. Adrian is still so young, you see—I haven’t yet experienced the reliability that comes from a grown son.”
As Damian, who had been listening attentively, slowly parted his lips to respond.
“Mother. A son-in-law is a son-in-law, not a son. If we’re being precise, he’s the cherished son of another household.”
Aracila interjected swiftly, seizing the moment without hesitation. She had deemed her mother’s words too burdensome for Damian.
The marchioness narrowed her eyes, shooting her daughter a sidelong glance.
“Yes, I knew you’d say that. Honestly, who did you take after? You have no sense of romance.”
“People often say I look like Father but have your personality.”
“You’re quick with words, aren’t you.”
Suddenly, beyond Aracila, she noticed people gradually drifting toward the center of the hall. With the first dance approaching, they were claiming their spots in advance.
Confirming that the court orchestra was readying an elegant piece befitting the winter night, the marchioness gave the couple a gentle push from behind.
“Go on and share the first dance with Damian, Aracila. I’ll stay here and soothe your father.”
“Huh? Oh, yes…”
Caught off guard, the pair found themselves stepping into the center of the hall, blending among the crowd.
After a brief moment of awkward hesitation, Aracila and Damian placed their hands on each other’s shoulders and waists.
No sooner had they taken their positions than the music began. Damian moved his feet in time with the gentle melody. Following his lead, Aracila stole a sidelong glance.
It had been ages since she had danced with Damian like this. Unintentionally, their recent party attendances had mostly excluded dancing, leaving few opportunities.
The clasped hands and the closeness of their bodies were distracting enough, but more than anything, his face—leaner still when viewed up close—tugged at her concern.
‘At this rate, it’s not just busyness; it seems like he’s under mental strain…’
The memory of her parents’ somewhat intrusive behavior toward Damian earlier surfaced abruptly, filling Aracila with unwarranted remorse.
He must have found it disconcerting, yet he hadn’t let it show at all, which stirred both gratitude and embarrassment in her.
“I’m sorry, Damian. It must have been uncomfortable because of my parents. They shouldn’t treat you that way.”
Aracila offered a quiet apology. Damian, who had been dancing impassively with his gaze lowered, furrowed his brows slightly.
After a prolonged silence, as the song reached its midpoint, he asked out of the blue.
“Is it because we’re headed for divorce soon?”
“…Pardon?”
“I’m asking if your concern over your parents’ words and actions stems from considering an imminent divorce announcement.”
Damian had never once felt discomfort from the marquis couple’s remarks or behavior. Nor had he sensed any burden from them.
Even the marchioness’s words, which Aracila had found excessive, were acceptable to him—in fact, they warmed him inwardly. They implied she viewed him as family, not an outsider.
What grated on him more was Aracila intervening with her mother and now offering this apology.
It revealed all too clearly that, unlike her parents, she regarded him as someone she would soon part from.
“Absolutely not. I just…”
Aracila, who had truly acted with Damian’s well-being in mind, denied it vehemently but let her words trail off. After a brief internal pause to gather her thoughts, she spoke again.
“Though I was the one who first inquired about the timing of the divorce, I have no intention of ending the contract yet. I want to help you as much as I can before I go.”
“Until when?”
“Until whenever you desire.”
Aracila replied resolutely.
Following Philip’s counsel, she would eventually conclude her married life with Damian. But that didn’t mean she intended to end it one-sidedly.
There remained an inheritance period before she became the Master of the Magic Tower, so she wished to uphold the agreement for as long as he required her presence.
That was Aracila’s true inner sentiment, one she hadn’t been able to express during their meal at the time.
“…Until whenever I desire, you say.”
A sigh seeped into Damian’s low murmur.
Should he welcome this, or not?
His golden eyes, gazing down at Aracila, held a complex gleam. Suppressing the selfish words that tangled chaotically, desperate to spill out, Damian posed just one question.
“Is that your sense of responsibility?”
Was it her strong sense of duty that prevented her from immediately letting go of their relationship?
Aracila’s shoulders flinched. She wasn’t unaware of the selfish desires lurking deep in her heart.
Yet she nodded calmly, affirming it with composure.
“Yes, that’s right. No matter what, I have to take responsibility for the promises I’ve made.”
“I see. Understood.”
With Damian’s reply, the conversation came to an end.
In a peculiar state where disappointment and relief coexisted, the two flawlessly completed the dance to its conclusion.
To any onlooker, they appeared as the picture of a harmonious, perfectly matched couple.
The unwelcome greeting struck her ears just as she approached the table laden with champagne glasses to quench her thirst.
“It’s been a while, Aracila.”
The voice, which had no business addressing her so familiarly anymore, carried a saccharine resonance. Aracila reflexively furrowed her brow and turned her head.
Frederick stood there, his hair swept back to reveal a smooth forehead, grinning broadly.
‘Is he insane? Why is he approaching me like this? He knows we’re not on those terms anymore.’
As if he had completely forgotten their estrangement, Frederick added, “I’ve missed you. Have you been well?”
Aracila was so utterly dumbfounded that words failed her. In that moment, he strode forward, closing the distance abruptly.
Damian, standing beside her, stepped ahead, subtly shielding her.
“Thanks to Your Highness’s concern, we’ve been well.”
“Ah, yes. Sir Vandemir. I saw you yesterday, and here you are today.”
A flicker of displeasure swept over him. But Damian, undaunted, responded with brazen poise.
“Yes, I’m grateful that you’ve missed me after just one day.”
Frederick barely restrained the urge to scowl at this shameless interception of words meant for Aracila.
Quickly donning the mask of the affable crown prince, he said.
“I’m glad we keep running into each other like this. I hope we have many more occasions to meet in the future.”
“No, I couldn’t possibly trouble someone as busy as you.”
“Haha, who knew you were so considerate? It’s a shame more people don’t know this about you. Don’t you agree?”
“It’s fine. The one person I want to know it already does.”
Frederick’s expression hardened as he immediately grasped who that one person referred to. The implication of such a solid marital bond left a sour taste.
As a chilly silence stretched a bit too long between the two men, Aracila spoke up.
“Your Highness. It seems others are awaiting your greetings as well, so we’ll take our leave.”
Unlike Frederick’s casual familiarity, Aracila maintained a strict boundary. It was a subtle declaration that she had no intention whatsoever of reverting to their former rapport.
Her demeanor, polite to the point of frostiness, prompted Frederick to feign a wounded expression.
“Why so formal, Aracila? Have you forgotten how long we’ve known each other?”
“If Your Highness is finished, we’ll excuse ourselves.”
“I know you well. You may act cold now, but with your soft heart, you’re bound to return to my side eventually.”
What nonsense from this madman.
Aracila barely swallowed the words rising to her throat. She was aware of the glances several people were casting their way.
While she simmered inwardly, trying to calm her boiling frustration, Damian interjected.
“Your Highness, though my wife has a soft heart, she possesses the wisdom to discern right from wrong. No need for concern.”
This indirect rebuttal—that she would never return to him—twisted Frederick’s lips.
He stared straight at Damian and said.
“Well, that’s fortunate.”
“I think so too.”
“I hope you and Aracila enjoy this New Year’s ceremony to the fullest.”
“Yes, thank you.”
Frederick reached out and lightly gripped Damian’s shoulder. A bright smile had already returned to his face.
“Come to think of it, I hear Lord Vandemir will be attending this year’s ceremony as well. I’m looking forward to seeing the brotherly affection between you two.”
One of Damian’s eyebrows arched upward.
The New Year’s ceremony was an event where only invited individuals from each house could attend. No matter how much Oscar might be, he couldn’t tag along like a child on a family outing…
‘Does that mean Oscar was invited too? On what grounds?’
Damian knew better than anyone how incompetent his half-brother was. He could barely wield a sword, his mind was dull, and his only talent seemed to be cavorting with women.
That’s why he had even sparked a scandal with a commoner actress and an illegitimate child—yet being invited to a major imperial event was utterly incomprehensible.
Unconsciously, Damian’s brow furrowed. Watching him, Frederick pulled the corners of his mouth higher, as if relishing the moment.
“Well then, I’ll be off. See you next time, Aracila.”
With a casual wave, Frederick turned leisurely away. Aracila and Damian watched his retreating figure with unease.
For her, it was the unchanged tone and behavior in how Frederick addressed her that felt off-putting; for him, it was the crown prince’s deliberate mention of Oscar that struck a deeply suspicious chord.
In contrast to the sudden complexity swirling in their minds, the music filling the hall remained serene.
The New Year’s ceremony had not even begun on this night.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ✧: *. ꕥ .* :✧ﾟ. ───
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