WGMFTR | Chapter 3

Episode 3

“Marriage between you and me is the most efficient way that won’t raise suspicion.”

“So, why? Why would coming here raise suspicion?”

I had no idea where to begin pointing things out. Once Lydia confirmed that she hadn’t misheard, she became even more bewildered.

So the only thing she could come up with was:

“…And I don’t even know who you are.”

“Ah. We haven’t even introduced ourselves. I apologize for the rudeness.”

As if that were the biggest issue right now, and not the talk of marriage, he extended his hand and spoke.

“Let me formally introduce myself. Ilian Esteban.”

The elegant name rolled off his tongue too smoothly, almost too familiarly.

Without thinking, she reached out to meet the right hand he had offered—on which a thick silver ring rested on his index finger.

A memory flashed through her mind. A rumor that had stirred up the capital recently came to mind.

“The… arrogant marquis.”

The words slipped out on their own, and she quickly covered her mouth in shock, but he had already heard them.

“I’m sorry, My Lord. I didn’t know you were a noble…”

“I kept it hidden, so it’s fine.”

He glanced at Lydia, who was watching him warily, and let out a small laugh.

But in truth, his entire focus was on the hand they were holding.

At night, when the mansion grew dead silent, the screams that used to drive him mad and the pain that ran through his arm like a raging nerve finally became faint, like echoes from far away.

And soon after, they vanished completely.

The peaceful and tranquil state was immensely satisfying.

‘This… is addictive.’

The moments when he was freed from all the torment that gnawed at his sanity were so sweet. And knowing that it would return the moment he let go of this hand made it even more so.

Still, he couldn’t possibly let this woman see how dangerously close to the edge he was.

He’d already shown enough weakness due to past carelessness.

Ilian casually put his coat back on and deliberately changed the subject.

“You seem to know me quite well.”

“No one in the capital doesn’t know the big rumor about how you turned down the youngest princess’s public proposal.”

“Seems like everyone has way too much free time, gossiping about such things.”

The Marquis of Esteban spoke with a genuinely indifferent expression, but Lydia didn’t take it so lightly.

“But… she’s still a princess.”

“So?”

There wasn’t even a hint of respect or loyalty toward the royal family in his raised-eyebrow response.

Unfortunately for Princess Yulina, who was known to be as gracefully beautiful as a flower in bloom, it was clear he didn’t harbor even a speck of affection for her.

Holding her head, Lydia tried to return the conversation to its central issue.

“But why would someone who rejected marriage to the princess ask me to marry him?”

“Would you prefer people say you’re my mistress?”

The rude comment came out of nowhere, and Lydia recoiled in both shock and anger.

Talking back to a noble was unthinkable, but since he needed her abilities, she found some courage.

“Who’s whose mistress? Even if you’re a noble, you can’t just say things like that…”

“What I mean is, if I keep visiting this place, people will start to suspect something. My presence draws too much attention in many ways.”

He tilted his head and looked down at her, as if to confirm she was following his explanation, and continued.

“If things stopped there, it wouldn’t be so bad. But if my political enemies figure out what’s going on, they’ll want to kill you—an easy target—to get to me. That’s why you’ll need to stay at my estate just in case. And what kind of woman stays at a nobleman’s estate without a title? A mistress, or worse.”

As he laid out the situation as if it were the natural course of events, Lydia’s irritation slowly faded, and she realized something.

“So… you’re doing this to protect me?”

“If that’s how you want to see it, sure.”

He really had a twisted way with words. Would it kill him to explain things more plainly?

The problem was that he was informing her of decisions he had already made by himself. Couldn’t he share some of the thought process?

“So we’ll get married temporarily, then part ways once the problem is resolved. There’s no more efficient or cleaner solution than having you stay at my estate while we work this out.”

“Who even gets married for reasons like that?”

“Then for what reason should people get married?”

Lydia was at a loss for words. His conception of marriage was clearly and fundamentally flawed.

But no matter the reasoning, she couldn’t accept this absurd proposal. Who gets married on a whim like flipping a pancake?

“The Solem family heirloom.”

“…What?”

“You’ve been desperately looking for it, haven’t you? I think this is it.”

The Marquis Esteban took out a velvet box from his coat and placed it on the counter.

Lydia opened the box carefully, thinking it couldn’t be, but…

Inside was a ring set with amethyst. What made it unique was the intricate gold engraving on the gemstone.

It was the Solem family crest—an image of a radiant sun that, at first glance, looked like a blooming flower.

“…How do you have this?”

The moment she touched the ring, the flow of magical energy that responded as if greeting its rightful owner didn’t lie.

The main reason she kept her antique shop running all this time was to recover this very lost relic of the Solem family.

“Some former marquis must’ve had a pointless hobby of collecting odd things. Our family’s always had more money than sense.”

“This… this is really important to me. I absolutely need it.”

Lydia became desperate. She had spent years drawing sketches and making inquiries, and the number of times she had been disappointed when people showed up with amethyst rings at her shop…

“Then I’m glad I brought it.”

But the Marquis Ilian Esteban closed the box firmly and tucked it back into his coat.

It felt like a dream snatched away at the last moment, right before coming true.

She looked up at him, her eyes filled with a mix of shock and emptiness, and he tilted his head and said:

“I’ll promise to give it to you once you break my curse.”

“…Don’t you think it’s too much to use someone else’s heirloom as a bargaining chip?”

“I’m just offering a fair deal.”

Why, of all things, did this man have the one thing Lydia Solem wanted most in the world?

“If you don’t trust me, we can draw up a contract.”

He calmly took a pocket watch from his coat and, as if remembering something important, added:

“Oh, and I already know you’re not married or engaged, so don’t bother with excuses.”

“How far did you investigate me? I mean… why?”

“Because I don’t trust people.”

His brief reply carried an air of annoyance, and Lydia was speechless.

The Marquis continued in a laid-back tone.

“So, will you accept my proposal?”

“What if I don’t?”

“Then tell me clearly what you want instead.”

“What I mean is… the proposal itself is absurd. How can you think of marrying a commoner? Even if it’s temporary.”

This man was once considered a candidate to marry a princess. And now he expected her to take that seat?

“I’ll guarantee all the proper treatment as Marchioness during the marriage.”

As the Marquis tilted his head, his dazzling blond hair flowed elegantly. He continued in a flat tone.

“Our marriage will come with no obligations beyond you breaking my curse. Once it’s resolved, we go our separate ways.”

Every part of his explanation was based on the assumption that they’d be getting married. Lydia now felt like tearing her hair out.

How had she ended up entangled with a marquis obsessed with marriage?