WGMFTR | Chapter 16

Episode 16

Emotions that had been left unattended for so long, to the point of not realizing how rotten they had become, seemed like they were about to pour out.

Even so, it felt somewhat okay because Lydia, who chose to wait quietly rather than urging Ilian, who had suddenly stopped speaking, was standing in front of him.

“I’m alone, so… I wonder what it feels like.”

Only then did Ilian suddenly realize that Lydia, too, had lost her family and was standing here.

Moreover, Lydia had no one left.

As if she had noticed the weight of his sinking emotions, Lydia smiled gently while slowly walking and looking down at the garden scenery bathed in the evening glow.

“You don’t have to look at me like that. I really am okay. There are days I’m not, but still.”

No wonder she had liked the garden so much from the beginning; Lydia let go of his hand and leaned on the railing, resting her chin on it.

Lydia’s hair was dyed in various shades of red.

Her brown hair, soaked in the soft sunlight, tilted forward and covered her face. Ilian, without thinking, reached out his hand to fix her hair.

Only when a few strands tickled his fingertips did he realize what he was about to do and try to pull his hand back. But Lydia looked at him first.

“Oh, I forgot and let go of your hand. Come to think of it, have you been okay lately? We’ve barely been holding hands, right? The curse seemed to be progressing okay, but… you’re not having headaches, or worsening symptoms, are you?”

Her sudden, lengthy words as she quickly took his hand again felt completely natural.

“The symptoms are always the same. The curse torments me as if it wants to kill me…”

Ilian recalled the past few days.

It hadn’t been easy to control the rage bubbling up because of Madeline Ines trying to step back into Esteban. He had chosen to immerse himself in work instead, making sleep no longer an option.

Just before he met Lydia, the mountain of work he had put off to deal with the curse had helped prevent him from thinking of anything else.

“…You haven’t been sleeping well at night, have you.”

Lydia’s hand reached his forehead without hesitation. She rose on tiptoes, as if checking his temperature, the gesture exaggerated.

Ever since he had minimized physical contact with Lydia, the grueling pain had returned, making sleep elusive.

So it was true that fatigue weighed heavily on him.

“I’m okay now.”

At this moment, having chosen to leave all other problems behind and focus solely on Lydia, he really was okay.

“Right now?”

“Yes.”

A thoughtful concern lingered on her frown. Ilian, with a barely noticeable smile, gently pressed her furrowed brow.

“Don’t worry so much about others. Even when you weren’t here, I managed just fine with this curse.”

“You didn’t manage well. You just managed.”

“You never let a single word slide, do you.”

He couldn’t remember the last time someone contradicted him. Even his sister nagged less after he became the head of the family.

Still, it wasn’t a bad feeling. In fact, it felt genuinely… okay.

“It’s a bit… too much.”

On the wedding day, Lydia’s first impression upon trying on the dress she would wear for the ceremony was this.

As Lydia stared seriously at the mirror, the marquis, seated behind her, added a few words.

“It’s not too much at all. It suits you perfectly.”

“The marquis is right. You look so dazzling in it. I was worried we might need some alterations, but there’s no need.”

The boutique’s madam, who had come personally to please the marquis, quickly interrupted Lydia’s words to lavish her with praise.

The bodice of the dress was covered with delicate embroidery that must have taken countless hours and effort.

One couldn’t help but admire the result of a master’s touch.

“…It does look incredibly beautiful.”

Layers upon layers of sheer white fabric.

The dress, which fell in a wide circle, was much heavier than it looked.

Lydia felt almost buried in it, but it was undeniably a masterpiece.

So much so that it was a shame it would only be worn once for a fake wedding.

“Breathing is a bit difficult, though.”

They had tightened her waist so much in pursuit of the perfect silhouette that moving was difficult.

The moment she turned slightly to try walking, the heavy dress combined with heels she didn’t usually wear made her stumble.

“Careful.”

She felt a hand gently supporting her waist — when had he approached?

Lydia placed her hand over Ilian’s right hand, which bore the family signet ring. She could feel his subtle flinch through the contact.

In the mirror, they looked like a truly loving couple about to be wed.

The marquis, standing still as if not wanting to let go of her, looked the part.

‘Even though that’s absolutely not the case.’

Even if she rationalized that they were only pretending because of the attendants observing them closely.

Ilian’s well-feigned affection was convincing enough that even Lydia found herself believing his kindness was sincere.

Which was why she had to keep steadying her heart whenever he approached like this.

After all, she was here as a kind of healer. Her habit of reaching for his hand whenever the chance arose was simply to check on the patient’s condition.

…That was how she preferred to think about it.

His hand, still around her waist, showed no sign of moving.

The warmth through the not-so-thick fabric was hard to ignore.

So Lydia chose instead to speak to the marquis.

“What if I trip on the actual wedding day? I can’t even raise my arms properly.”

It wasn’t even a secret, but with Ilian so close, her voice instinctively dropped to a whisper.

As soon as she finished speaking, she felt the marquis chuckle behind her.

Ilian’s breath brushed the nape of her bare neck, tickling unusually.

Flustered, Lydia unconsciously gripped his hand tighter, trying to calm her pounding heart.

Whether he noticed her strange state or not, Ilian gave a smooth reply.

“To keep the bride from being embarrassed, I’ll do my best to catch you quickly — just like today.”

“Even if you’re far away, will you drop everything and run to me?”

It was a silly joke. She wondered, suddenly, had she grown so comfortable with Ilian Esteban that she could toss such meaningless words his way?

“If my most precious bride wants it, of course I will. Ah, it’s here.”

His voice rose suddenly. Lydia saw that, still holding her hand, Ilian reached to the side to take something.

“Don’t tell me that’s…”

A tiara so dazzling it made the diamond on Lydia’s hand look plain was gently placed on her head.

“There was a time when the royal family owed us a great debt. In exchange for covering up an unprecedented royal bankruptcy, we asked for the tiara worn by the first queen at the first king’s coronation. Embarrassing for the royals, but it was a cheap deal for them.”

She felt she should hurry and tell Baroness Schnette that she had finally worn the tiara she’d so wanted to see in person.

“I knew it belonged to the royal family, but I didn’t know the backstory.”

“Only our family knows. It’s a shameful part of the Cronon royal past. They don’t talk about it openly.”

“But… is it really okay for me to wear this?”

Bathed in dazzling white light, the woman in the mirror looked not just unfamiliar but unreal.

With every gem exquisitely crafted, the tiara only added to that feeling.

“That’s exactly why you should wear it. Rather than gossiping about ‘you’, wouldn’t they prefer talking about the things you’re wearing?”

“That might be better. I’d prefer if my presence were buried under all this dress and jewelry.”

She meant it. Thinking of the king, queen, and even the princess who so desperately wanted to marry Ilian attending, she already dreaded stepping into the wedding hall.

“Just remember one thing, Lydia.”

Lydia couldn’t hide her nervousness as her gaze naturally dropped to the floor.

Ilian, brushing her cheek and gently lifting her chin, said,

“You are — from the present and future — the only person I have personally chosen to marry, and the only marchioness of this era. That’s what you are to me.”

It sounded like a romantic confession — if their marriage had been real.