Chapter 16: Wedding Preparations (7)
It was around noon when the second son, whom the Duke found particularly unpleasant to deal with, came to visit.
The Duke sat across from his son, visibly uncomfortable.
Just this morning, he had received the report: four of the mercenaries he had hired had returned in a half-dead state, while the last one had been taken away by Aracila.
Despite everything, his son—who had inherited his own temperament but bore only his mother’s eyes—sat at ease, crossing his legs without a hint of tension.
“You have no manners, Damian.”
“Not as bad as a father who sends an inappropriate gift to his son’s fiancée.”
“Gift? What gift are you talking about?”
The Duke feigned ignorance.
Damian’s lips curled slightly, unsurprised.
His father had always conveniently ignored anything that put him at a disadvantage.
Cowardly, petty, and utterly despicable.
Damian reached into his uniform jacket and pulled out a neatly folded document—a testimony extracted through interrogation the night before.
“Make a choice.”
“A choice? Of what?”
The Duke read the document, careful not to let his expression betray any shock.
Damian remained impassive as he stated,
“Either I disguise this mercenary as a mere bandit and have him executed, while you stay put until the wedding—”
“—or you help boost my image as a passionate lover who even turns in his own father to protect his fiancée.”
The Duke’s hand trembled atop the armrest.
Unable to hold back his fury, he roared,
“You wretched boy! How dare you threaten your father?!”
“I’ve heard enough of that from the Duchess. Save it. You only need to pick from the options I’ve given you.”
The cold, unfeeling gaze Damian directed at him was entirely devoid of familial warmth.
Gritting his teeth so hard his jaw tightened, the Duke quickly weighed his options.
If this matter became public, Damian would certainly take some damage.
There was even a possibility that the Hugo family would call off the marriage in outrage.
That was why Damian had come to threaten him instead of immediately reporting him.
“Do you really think that if it’s revealed I orchestrated an attack on Lady Hugo, I’ll be the only one who suffers?”
“We’ll both suffer. But who do you think will take the bigger hit? Especially if His Majesty finds out?”
The Duke fell silent.
Damian continued without hesitation.
“No matter what you do, I will not back out of this marriage. And neither will Lady Hugo. Didn’t you realize that when she handed the mercenary over to me herself?”
Under normal circumstances, Aracila would have taken the mercenary straight to the authorities.
But her priority right now was securing the marriage, so she had brought him to Damian instead.
To serve as a blade against his own family.
Only now did the Duke truly understand.
As long as Aracila Hugo and Damian Vandermir stood together, this marriage could not be stopped.
The union of a relentless woman and a tenacious man was too formidable to break.
“Make your decision.”
With his son’s frigid demand pressing down on him, the Duke begrudgingly opened his mouth.
“…Since my son’s fiancée was attacked by bandits, I suppose I must offer my condolences.”
“No need to worry. I already took the liberty of preparing something for you.”
Damian pulled out another document with a perfectly composed smile.
It was a formal letter granting permission for the marriage between Aracila Hugo and Damian Vandermir.
“Hah…”
“All you need to do is sign, Father.”
Damian handed him a pen, watching as his father’s expression twisted with disbelief.
The Duke nearly choked on the sheer audacity of his son’s preparedness.
But in the end, he signed the document.
Satisfied, Damian exchanged the testimony for the signed approval and left.
Shortly after, the Duchess rushed into the study, her face filled with concern.
“Dear, are you alright? What did Damian say to you?”
The Duke didn’t respond.
Instead, he tossed the testimony onto the table and slammed his fist down in frustration.
It was absurd.
Those worthless mercenaries had failed to handle a single young woman, and now he was left dealing with this disaster.
“They swore they’d take their own lives if the mission failed! Useless fools!”
Of course, they hadn’t had the chance—Aracila had immobilized them with her magic before they could.
But the Duke, unable to think that far, seethed as he lit a cigar.
He took a long drag, exhaling slowly as the burning anger in his chest settled slightly.
Meanwhile, the Duchess had read the testimony and looked as though she was about to faint.
“What do we do now, dear?”
Trembling with distress, she turned to him.
The Duke gestured for her to be quiet as he fell into thought.
“We’ve made too many missteps.”
They had attempted to sabotage the wedding too many times.
In doing so, they had only given their enemies more leverage.
If they kept pushing, they might end up making things even worse—and losing even more in the process.
“It seems we’ll have to let the marriage happen.”
After a long pause, the Duke finally spoke.
They had reached the tipping point where continuing to resist would only bring them disaster.
Backing down was the only option left.
“What? But dear, what about Father’s will? We must stop this somehow—”
“As long as I’m alive, no matter how much Damian marries into the Hugo family, he will never take the title of Duke.”
Marriage did not equate to succession.
At best, it only meant that the grandson who married into the Hugo family could be designated as the heir.
But if the Vandermir family never made such a declaration, no one would acknowledge it.
And the Emperor—despite wishing to honor his late friend’s will—was a cunning man who had no desire to interfere in the Vandermir family’s internal conflicts.
“We’ll simply have to wait for the right opportunity.”
“But still…”
“Enough! If you had handled things properly from the start, we wouldn’t be in this mess!”
Frustrated, the Duke lashed out at his wife.
She flinched, shrinking under his fury.
“I-I’m sorry.”
“Tch!”
Unable to contain his anger, the Duke kicked the table over and stormed out.
Left alone, the Duchess slumped in her seat, disheartened.
That was when Oscar approached.
“Mother, are you alright?”
“My dear Oscar, you’re the only one I can rely on.”
She opened her arms wide and pulled her son into an embrace.
Oscar patted her back absentmindedly before stepping away.
His real concern wasn’t his mother’s feelings—it was Damian’s wedding.
“So… Damian is actually going through with the marriage?”
“It seems we have no choice but to let it happen. But don’t worry too much, Oscar.”
The Duchess’s gaze sharpened.
“The Vandermir duchy will still be yours.”
The Duchess clutched her son’s hand tightly.
No matter what happened, she would make sure he was the one to inherit.
As his mother steeled her resolve, Oscar was thinking about something entirely different—Aracila.
She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
Far too stunning to simply hand over to his half-brother.
“Maybe I can seduce her and ruin the wedding myself.”
It was a thought that would horrify his parents, but it made Oscar smirk.
He had a habit of playing with women like toys—using them until he got bored and tossing them aside.
The Vandermir territory was already littered with his discarded conquests.
“There hasn’t been a single woman who’s resisted me before.”
Oscar had inherited some of his mother’s good looks, making him appear like a fine gentleman to outsiders.
He might not be as striking as Damian, but he had something better—his family’s backing as the legitimate heir.
If he used his status and charm, Aracila was bound to fall for him, just like the others.
The Day Before the Wedding
The prenuptial contract was finalized.
Damian and Aracila visited the temple under the guise of submitting their marriage registration.
In truth, their main objective was to have the contract notarized.
By doing this, no one would find it suspicious that they had come to the temple together.
“I hope you inherit the dukedom within five years. I want this divorce to happen as soon as possible.”
“Same here. I’ll dedicate my whole being to it, so don’t worry.”
As they strolled down the temple corridors, they conversed in hushed tones.
From a distance, they appeared to be a loving couple.
Since they had publicly announced their marriage as a love match, it was necessary to maintain the illusion of affection.
While waiting in the temple’s reception room for the notary priest, Aracila reviewed the contract once more.
Over the past month of wedding preparations, they had devoted the most effort to this document.
They had painstakingly crafted each clause, ensuring neither of them would be at a disadvantage.
Her gaze fell on the final clause.
“During the contract period, neither party shall fall in love.”
As if scripted, they had both blurted out this condition at the same time.
Neither of them wanted to deal with the mess of the other falling in love and clinging desperately to the marriage.
“Just in case, let me give you another warning, Sir Vandermir.”
“…?”
Wearing a lavender-colored dress that matched her hair, Aracila met Damian’s eyes squarely.
“No matter how charming I may be, you must not fall for me. My career is more important than love.”
“…As if I’d be the one to fall first.”
Damian looked at her as if she were being ridiculous.
For him, revenge was far more important than love.
“You have an excessive amount of confidence.”
“Anyone would, looking like this. Besides, I’ve had plenty of men who pretended to dislike me, only to confess their feelings later.”
There had always been men who, despite being attracted to her, acted cold or hostile because their pride was wounded by her indifference.
Then, when they finally did confess, it was nothing but annoying and exasperating for Aracila.
“Some were even extreme enough to harass me. Of course, I took care of those cases myself.”
“…Took care of? How, exactly?”
“Do you really want the details?”
She smiled sweetly, like an angel.
Damian felt a sudden headache coming on and waved his hand dismissively.
“No need.”
Just then, the high-ranking priest entered the room.
He was a well-respected figure known for his integrity—someone they could trust.
“Greetings. I am Priest Taylor. What matter do you wish to have notarized?”
“This prenuptial contract.”
The middle-aged priest accepted the document Aracila handed him.
Though he quickly realized the high-profile marriage was a sham, his composed expression did not falter.
“Everything related to this contract must remain strictly between the three of us.”
Damian’s voice was firm.
By temple law, a priest providing notarization was bound to secrecy.
“As a servant of Stenia, the guardian deity of the Setron Empire, I swear absolute confidentiality. Your conversations and documents will remain strictly confidential.”
“Thank you, Priest.”
After receiving the official seal of approval, they left their copies of the contract with the priest and exited the temple.
“Then, I’ll see you at the wedding tomorrow.”
“Yes, see you tomorrow.”
They exchanged farewells as if they were mere guests attending someone else’s wedding.
Then, for the last time before their union, they walked off in opposite directions.
“They met with the notary priest?”
Frederick raised an eyebrow at the report from the spy he had placed on Aracila.
He had assumed they had gone to the temple to submit the marriage registration—but why meet a notary?
“It’s not like they didn’t have people who could serve as witnesses.”
Aracila was on good terms with her family.
Damian had the Crimson Hawk Knights.
There was no reason for them to need a priest to notarize anything.
“Did you find out what they notarized?”
“Apologies, Your Highness. We were unable to obtain that information.”
Frederick drummed his fingers on the desk.
He thought back to Aracila’s bold declaration that she and Damian had been secretly dating.
“Why would she need to see a notary with Sir Vandermir, of all people?”
There was no reason for it—unless they were sealing some kind of deal.
Suspicion darkened his crimson eyes.
He reached for a document he had received a few days ago—a background report on Damian.
Among the findings was a key piece of information:
A political marriage had been arranged between the Vandermir and Hugo families.
“So it wasn’t a love match after all.”
A smirk spread across Frederick’s lips.
He didn’t yet know why they were marrying, but this was enough to draw a conclusion.
Aracila wasn’t marrying Damian because she loved him.
She was doing it because she had to.
“Poor Aracila. Don’t worry—I’ll save you.”
His smirk deepened.
After all, it was always the prince who rescued the captive princess.
“Find out what they had notarized. I don’t care if you have to bribe or threaten the priest—just get me the information.”
He gave the order smoothly, his face illuminated by the setting sun.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ✧: *. ꕥ .* :✧ﾟ. ───
