Chapter 5
Even as she continued chattering beside him, Cayente never once looked her way. Yulia’s heart, which had gradually begun to feel uneasy, turned into unmistakable despair the moment she finally met Cayente’s slowly turned gaze.
“A noble lady who talks so much about dignity sure lacks decorum. A noblewoman running around and kicking up dust?”
There was hardly any change in Cayente’s expression, but Yulia instantly realized that he was displeased with her. On top of that, for him to say such a thing the moment their eyes met meant that he had definitely heard her voice and knew she was running toward him—yet had chosen to ignore her.
So… you didn’t come here to see me, did you, brother?
Seeing him frown as though he’d run into someone he never wanted to meet—not here, not anywhere—Yulia could only close her mouth and fall silent.
“You’ve been twenty for a while now, but your behavior is still that of a twelve-year-old. Just look at your dress… actually, was it already a mess to begin with?”
“Count, that tone isn’t appropriate toward your future bride.”
And yet, Cayente’s sharp tone didn’t let up. After looking her up and down with clear distaste, he criticized her appearance without hesitation—so much so that Henry, who stood beside him, looked visibly startled.
A man like this would never have come here just because I contacted him to come see rings.
“Or did you choose that outfit intentionally, knowing you’d be running around like that?”
Yulia felt her cheeks flush with shame—not only because she had acted exactly as a twelve-year-old might, lost in her own fantasy, but also because the dress she had chosen with care for the jewelry store was dismissed as “that kind of outfit.”
“That kind of outfit? What do you mean?”
“What else? You actually put thought into that? I gave you a check and told you to spend as much as you needed. It’s not like you were short on funds.”
It hurt even more because his outfit was impeccable in comparison. While Yulia’s clothes may have looked expensive by commoner standards, next to him, they were painfully shabby.
Despite the lingering spring chill, Cayente wore a crisply ironed shirt layered with a thick wool vest and a jacket that didn’t show a single fuzzball. The buttons were pure gold. His trousers looked freshly tailored, showing no sign of wear. The watch chain, clearly meant to be noticed, wasn’t just gold-plated—it was solid gold. His leather gloves were flawless, and his polished shoes gleamed with a shine only possible after being carefully broken in.
Even though her lavender dress was made of high-quality silk with lace crafted by a famed artisan, the fact that it was three years old made it look pitiful in comparison.
“More importantly, what brings you here, my lady?”
Perhaps noticing Yulia’s shoulders drooping in real time, Henry offered her a warm smile and friendly words.
“I came… to look at rings.”
“Rings? Wait, Count! You left your future wife to come look at wedding rings alone?!”
Henry was shocked.
“I thought… you came with me to see the rings…”
Leaving a bride-to-be to pick out wedding rings alone—it was an oddity in anyone’s eyes. Feeling as if she had gained support for her indignation, Yulia looked at Cayente, struggling to keep her tears from falling.
Look at this—even the butler is stunned. Do you feel nothing?
“Didn’t I say I was busy? I clearly remember telling you that on the first day.”
As always, Cayente’s expression remained unreadable. His gray eyes asked instead why he should waste his precious time on something like this. Yulia had to clench her fists tightly to keep the tears at bay.
Of course, because he’s the one marrying me.
If circumstances had been different—if this hadn’t been a situation where she was essentially being sold off for money—Yulia might have questioned his cold attitude more directly.
No matter how busy he was, how could he so confidently abandon the woman he was going to marry?
But she swallowed all those words. If she upset him, he might decide to cancel the engagement.
Yulia was more afraid of that than the gossip that would follow a broken engagement. What terrified her most was the thought of her family being thrown onto the streets because she couldn’t manage her own emotions.
“Count… if you keep speaking to your future wife like this…”
“A busy man can only tolerate so much whining. Let’s end this here.”
“What? You’re leaving like this?”
Cayente, wearing an expression that seemed like he was about to click his tongue, turned without even a farewell and disappeared into the building he’d been staring at. Henry, torn between the two of them, followed suit. What remained around Yulia were the gazes of onlookers—half curious, half mocking.
“Who’s that?”
“The daughter of Baron Ruper.”
“Ah, the one getting married to Count Clue?”
“But why does the mood seem so off?”
Yulia’s heart, which had desperately tried to find something good in this unwanted marriage, collapsed completely. It had been bearable in front of her family—after all, they knew she was doing this for them. Her father, especially, couldn’t even meet her eyes out of guilt.
But to appear like a bride who had been discarded before the wedding, and in front of total strangers… even Yulia, who prided herself on her strong self-esteem, couldn’t brush it off with a smile.
“My lady, you were here? I’ve been looking everywhere.”
When she met the eyes of Deik, the coachman who had hesitantly approached her, she couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. Deik was a young servant who had inherited the stables from his father and always looked at Yulia with the gaze of someone admiring a star in the sky.
“Let’s go, Deik.”
“Yes, my lady.”
When even a man like that struggled to hide his pity for her, it only made her feel more wretched.
Still, Yulia didn’t want to cry. Even if it wasn’t Cayente, there would be countless ways for her heart to be hurt in a marriage entangled with money—she had prepared herself for that. But it was impossible not to feel down. Gazing blankly out the carriage window at the disappearing scenery, Yulia murmured softly:
“Why is he like that?”
Other men usually looked at her with eyes full of desire, as if they couldn’t resist her. So why didn’t her brother even bat an eye? Was it that she didn’t appeal to him? Even so… why did he have to be so cold?
At first, she thought maybe his personality had simply grown colder. Cayente didn’t seem particularly kind to anyone—he was known to show no courtesy even to powerful dukes and marquises, never initiating greetings himself.
But that was toward strangers. Yulia was supposed to become his wife. And yet, this was how he acted.
“If this is how it would be, why did he agree to marry me in the first place?”
It wasn’t easier because they knew each other—it was harder because they did. What made it worse was that Cayente wasn’t a stranger. He was someone she knew…
