The End of the Special Contract Romance (6)
“Sis, you’re getting married.”
“……”
Iris’s face hardened instantly. So that was the right guess. Aracila, who’d sensed it intuitively, unfolded her arms and asked.
“You’re not doing this because you want to, are you?”
“……Aracila, there’s actually something I’ve been wanting to ask you.”
Iris gave an answer that didn’t match the question. Though Aracila wasn’t entirely pleased, she nodded as if to say go ahead and ask.
Clutching the blanket tightly and swallowing dryly, Iris slowly parted her lips.
“You… you like Duke Vanderimir, right?”
“Yes, I love him.”
Aracila answered without hesitation. By now, she felt no embarrassment or reluctance in expressing her feelings.
Looking into her sister’s eyes, which brimmed with affection and trust for her husband, Iris finally voiced the question that had truly been gnawing at her.
“What is it like to marry the person you love? Are you… happy enough to have no regrets at all?”
“Of course I’m happy. I can’t even imagine my life without Damian anymore.”
Even though it was more or less the answer she’d expected, Iris’s expression remained clouded. Would she feel the same way after marrying Eric, once time had passed?
Lacking any certainty, she pressed further.
“Has it always been like that, from the moment you got married?”
“No, it hasn’t. You know that too, sis—we originally married with a contract.”
“……Right, we did.”
“For me, it was pretty meh until about midway through. Not that I hated it or was miserable, but I definitely thought it would be best to divorce as soon as possible.”
Aracila stated the facts plainly. A marriage driven by mutual interests had a predetermined end, leaving no room for a sense of belonging or happiness.
“But that was because I didn’t like Damian back then. If I’d loved him from the start, I would have been satisfied with the marriage.”
“……Why?”
“Because I got to become family with the person I love, and we built a home that’s just ours?”
Iris blinked in a daze. Listening to Aracila, she suddenly felt like she understood the shapeless, nagging discomfort that had lingered in her heart all this time.
Becoming lovers, family with the one you love, building a home together. Iris felt no appeal in any of it.
She liked Eric, and she thought she’d be happy with him, but she didn’t necessarily want it to take the form of a husband and wife.
Separate from her feelings for him, Iris didn’t want to be bound by marriage. She wanted to exist as an independent individual, standing side by side with Eric.
But how likely was it that he felt the same way?
Of course, when they’d started their contract romance, Eric had said he had no intention of marrying. But under constant pressure, his mind could change—and besides, she didn’t even know what he thought about their current situation.
Iris was more resolute than ever about her own feelings, yet everything else—everyone else but her—was uncertain.
That was why, ever since she’d realized her affection for him, a corner of her heart had stayed unsettled.
“Sis, what’s wrong? Is something the matter?”
Aracila grew worried, seeing Iris’s expression sour so suddenly.
Snapping back to herself, Iris shook her head. She figured there was no point in sharing her inner turmoil with her married sister—she wouldn’t understand.
“Ah, no, it’s nothing……”
“Don’t lie to me. Tell me what’s going on.”
“It’s really nothing.”
Aracila watched her sister, who laughed awkwardly and tried to brush it off. It was clear now that Iris wasn’t just choosing not to speak—she couldn’t.
It was different from the independent streak that had once made Aracila suffer alone, insisting she could handle her own problems.
This was the restraint of the eldest, compelled to act maturely so as not to burden the family—the fear of revealing a side of herself they’d never seen.
Aracila reached out and gently clasped her sister’s hands, which were pretending so hard to be fine.
“There’s one thing I realized after meeting the first princess of the Roshan Kingdom during our honeymoon. That I haven’t been a good sister to you.”
“Huh…? No, Ari, you’re a good sister.”
Iris’s eyes widened in denial, but Aracila declared it more firmly.
“No, I’m a bad sister. Because I’ve never truly understood you, not once.”
“……”
At a loss for words, Iris could only stare at her sister. Aracila continued softly.
“I’ve never once thought about the struggles or burdens you face as the eldest. I just… I thought I was the one living the most complicated, hardest life among us siblings.”
True to her nickname as the “prodigy mage,” Aracila had lived a life that veered off the normal path. She’d assumed her younger siblings, including Iris, had it easy, following the elite course in the opposite direction.
She’d believed that a life of fighting for what she wanted was entirely her own. But only now did it occur to her that someone might have yielded their place to her, sparing her the fight altogether.
“But that was arrogant of me. At least as the younger sister, I could pour out my worries to you, but you couldn’t do the same with me.”
“……”
“So now, I want to share your burdens. I want to be someone you can lean on. We’re each other’s only sister, after all.”
Aracila spoke from the heart. It was only after meeting Violet that she’d realized Iris must have her own unspeakable worries and pains—and that she’d only ever leaned on her sister as the younger one.
From now on, she wanted them to be pillars for each other. Because to Aracila, Iris was a precious older sister.
“Ari……”
Feeling the sincerity in her sister’s words, Iris’s voice cracked faintly. The emotions she’d held back so tightly welled up like a dam breaking.
Deep down, she’d always hoped someone in the family would reach out like this. That they’d notice her struggles, peek into her heart first……
In a voice thin and trembling, she confessed.
“The truth is… I’m not really dating young master Roberts. It’s all fake, like how you and your husband pretended to be lovers back then.”
Aracila nodded quietly at Iris’s confession. Truth be told, she was deeply surprised inside, but looking back, it made sense—the two of them had always seemed oddly distant for lovers.
So that’s why they hadn’t even kept in touch with each other.
Iris, who had been nibbling anxiously on her lower lip, finally ventured to speak again, her voice tentative.
“But… I’ve come to like Lord Roberts. Even so, I don’t want to marry him. I don’t want to marry anyone.”
“Then, what do you want to do, sister?”
“I… I want to stay in our family and work for it. Just like you wanted to become the master of the magic tower—I want to take on an important role in House Hugo and earn recognition for it.”
Ever since Iris’s marriage had been delayed, when as a child she’d assumed her sister would become a demure noblewoman, Aracila had suspected as much.
My sister isn’t all that keen on marriage, after all.
But she hadn’t realized her sister harbored ambitions that went even further than that. Seeing Iris’s eyes sparkle with a vitality more vibrant than ever, Aracila smiled faintly—it felt like looking at her younger self.
“Then do that. You can, sister. You’ve got the talent for it.”
“…You don’t think I’ve suddenly gone mad?”
Iris asked uncertainly. Unlike Aracila, who had always lived with such firm convictions, she had moved through life bending to the expectations of her parents and those around her.
That’s why asserting her own desires felt so awkward and uncomfortable, like an ill-fitting garment.
“Not at all. People change endlessly as they live. Even if you woke up tomorrow wanting to become a carpenter, I’d cheer you on.”
Aracila flashed a bright smile. It was another sincere sentiment. Moved, Iris pulled her little sister into a tight embrace.
“Thank you, Ari… You’ve really grown up. I can feel it—you’re all grown now.”
“Yes, sister. But as I’ve told you a thousand times, I’ve always been bigger than you.”
“Like this.”
Iris pinched her sister’s cheek gently, without hurting her, and laughed. Pouring out her heart to someone she could trust had lightened the weight on her own in an instant.
A baseless hope and confidence—that everything would somehow turn out right—enveloped her like a warm blanket.
* * *
But Iris was reminded once again that the world wasn’t so forgiving.
Up until Aracila had cheered her on, she’d planned to seek Eric’s understanding first, then confess the truth to her parents.
Yet as she mulled over how to broach the subject—how to open the floodgates—the buoyant swell of her heart deflated like air leaking from an old balloon.
‘Will Mother and Father really understand me? What if I just end up disappointing them terribly?’
Iris hadn’t expected her parents’ reaction to mirror Aracila’s exactly—their open-minded, independent daughter had always been a different story.
Still, the more she imagined their responses in her mind, the more dire the scenes that arose, leaving her gripped by profound unease.
‘And with Eric… how should I even wrap things up? Would it be better to set my feelings aside and just end the contract courtship outright?’
Lost in her indecision, two weeks had already slipped by without a word from Eric.
Gathering her courage, Iris resolved to meet him first and have the conversation. Since it might be their last time, she’d even bought him a gift.
Eric Roberts
It was a fountain pen engraved with those five letters. Clutching the gift box, neatly wrapped with a red ribbon from the shop, Iris headed home. Next, she planned to write to Eric and arrange a meeting.
But life, as always, refused to flow as she wished.
“Welcome back, miss. Madam has instructed that you go straight to the drawing room upon your return.”
“The drawing room? Why?”
Iris voiced her confusion at the butler’s words. Why the drawing room, of all places—not Mother’s chambers or her own?
The butler clasped his hands together and bowed politely as he explained.
“Lady Roberts and the young lord are waiting in the drawing room.”
“…What?”
Eric’s presence was one thing, but the mothers of both families meeting? That was hardly a good sign. Pale-faced, Iris hurried to the drawing room.
Pushing open the door and stepping inside, she found the two ladies chatting animatedly with delighted expressions, while Eric sat there with an awkward smile.
“Our Iris is here! Come, sit down right away!”
“Uh, Mother… What brings Lady Roberts and Lord Roberts here?”
Iris managed a stiff curtsy to the countess before asking, her voice laced with unease. The marchioness let out a light, tinkling laugh in response.
“Why, to discuss your marriage, of course! We can’t just leave such an important matter in the hands of our turtle-like children—we’d burst from the frustration if we tried to hold back. Isn’t that right, Countess?”
“Of course, Marchioness. My son is such a dullard, so shy and reserved. Watching him too timid to even propose, for fear of losing our sweet, lovely Lady Hugo—it’s more than I can bear.”
Lady Roberts covered her mouth with one hand as she laughed, waving the other dismissively in the air.
Seated on the sofa by her mother’s doing, Iris stared ahead in a daze. Eric watched her with evident concern from across the way, but she was too far gone to notice.
Oblivious to their children’s less-than-joyful expressions, the two mothers pressed ahead without hesitation.
“So, shall we aim for a wedding this year and start preparations?”
“I’m all for it. They’re both of marriageable age—no reason to delay any longer.”
“Let’s begin with the betrothal gifts, then move on to the dowry arrangements. Oh, what about holding the ceremony at the grand cathedral?”
“That sounds wonderful, but I’m worried about availability.”
“Don’t fret. My husband has connections in the temple—we can secure a date. Though it might have to be December at the earliest.”
The marchioness welcomed the idea with delight. A winter bride would be utterly enchanting, the countess chimed in agreement.
As she listened to their conversation, Iris’s mouth went dry as dust. Her heart pounded like a rabbit’s before a den of beasts.
If she stayed silent here, she’d be inexorably bound to marry Eric.
‘…No, I can’t. That won’t do…!’
Her mother’s words continued to flow, and with her resolve fraying, Iris could hold back no longer.
“Then we’ll lock in December for the wedding, and next week we can—”
“I’m not getting married.”
She cut the marchioness off and declared it outright.
