Yullia glanced briefly at the man sitting opposite her, tilting his glass.
Fernan Caesar. A young man of twenty-six who led the empire to victory in the previous war and inherited the title of Duke.
He radiated power, with his handsome and affluent appearance even in casual attire.
He was a man who inevitably caught the eye, despite Yullia’s attempt not to look.
The fact that this seemingly perfect man was her husband still didn’t feel real to Yullia.
“Stop staring and eat your meal.”
Yullia was startled by the sudden low voice and dropped her fork.
Fernan raised his head and stared at her with an indifferent expression.
“Yes, yes…”
Blushing, Yullia picked up the bread from her plate. She couldn’t raise her head, embarrassed that she had been caught peeking.
As she half-heartedly pushed her food around in the soup, the servant brought fresh cutlery.
Quietly cutting her steak, Yullia stole a glance at him. He seemed to be draining his champagne glass continuously, finding this time boring.
Should she try to engage in conversation? What do ordinary couples talk about during meals?
While Yullia agonized alone, Fernan got up from his seat.
“I’ll leave first.”
With these curt words, he left the dining room without even looking at her.
Yullia stared blankly at his empty seat for a moment before finally setting down her utensils. Somehow, she had lost her appetite.
Having barely eaten half of her food, Yullia stood up and headed back to her chambers.
Despite being married for several months, Yullia had never had a meaningful conversation with Fernan.
In fact, aside from meal times together, they rarely crossed paths at all.
He had been absent from home frequently. Sometimes for a few days, sometimes for a month.
Consequently, there was never a chance to grow closer.
Somehow, they seemed more distant than strangers.
“Did Your Highness come back? Did you enjoy your meal?”
As Yullia entered her bedroom, the maid tidying the bed greeted her with a smile. It was Melissa, her personal maid.
“Yes, thank you for your hard work every time.”
As Yullia moved into the dressing room, Melissa followed behind, offering assistance. Yullia wore a thin slip dress and put on a gown before returning to the bedroom.
“Oh, a letter arrived during the day, but I forgot to give it to you.”
Melissa took out an envelope from her apron. Yullia’s expression darkened slightly. Even without seeing the sender, she knew who it was from.
After Melissa left, Yullia opened the envelope and checked the contents. Naturally, it was from her father.
[Yullia, my daughter.
I have not received a reply to my previous letter. I am sending this new letter out of concern. Have you settled into your new home? I eagerly await the day I hear good news from you. Please visit the castle soon.]
It was a brief letter containing only intentions. Yullia placed the letter casually into a storage box and sighed heavily.
Her father, Marquis Elodie, was the one who had gained the most from this marriage.
He had expanded his business using the fame of war hero Fernan and was now greatly elevating the status of the family by maintaining close ties with the royal family.
Moreover, he was now pressuring Yullia to quickly have a child with the Duke.
Sending periodic letters like this to push the agenda.
Having an heir would stabilize the marriage even further, they argued.
Yullia pondered with a subtle expression. She and Fernan had not even spent a night together.
Children or heirs still felt like distant concepts, but there was a need to develop her relationship with him.
After all, they had many days ahead of them as a married couple.
Yullia lay on the bed, slowly picturing her husband’s figure.
Consistently beautiful and refined from the past until now.
Yullia first saw him nine years ago. As she recalled old memories, Yullia suddenly fell asleep with a slight smile on her lips.
A peaceful smile adorned her sleeping face.
—
Nine years ago, it was a summer when Yullia was fourteen. That day marked Yullia’s first visit to the palace.
“Why is this lowly person coming all the way into the banquet hall?”
However, even before stepping foot in the banquet hall, Yullia was thrown into a deep room in the palace by a strong grip.
It was a habitual cruelty of the Marquis’s wife, who did not acknowledge Yullia as her own.
“Stay quiet here. I’ll come get you after the banquet.”
“Oh, Mother!”
With a loud bang from the closed door, Yulia slowly withdrew her outstretched hand in desperation.
As her trembling eyes scanned the darkness around, she saw nothing but the pitch-black interior.
Amidst her fearful stance, the resounding music announcing the banquet echoed.
“…Sniff.”
Sitting crouched in place, Yulia eventually began to sob audibly.
The distant hum of the banquet hall’s activity only deepened young Yulia’s sorrow.
Had it been a mistake to show up excitedly, dressed in her first beautiful gown and riding in a splendid carriage?
Tears fell from her eyes, blurring her vision.
Then, at that moment, a long shadow suddenly enveloped her.
Lifting her gaze, Yulia saw a tall man standing there, looking down at her expressionlessly.
Startled, Yulia shrank back, and the man slowly bent his knees as their eye levels met.
As her gaze neared his height, his face became clearer.
“Why are you crying?”
Dark hair swallowed by shadows, and in the dimness, his golden eyes shone alone.
His somewhat rugged face captivated Yulia’s gaze with its beauty.
Silently, he extended his hand towards the trembling Yulia.
Yulia, puzzled by why someone like her would be offered a hand…
Confused yet unable to turn away, Yulia reluctantly reached out and grasped his fingertips.
Hesitant, with a puzzled expression, she tentatively held onto his hand, and he led Yulia towards a small door on one side of the wall.
Outside was a terrace.
Unlike the dark room inside, the terrace beyond was bathed in the glow of the rising sunset.
“Don’t cry. I’ll stay with you.”
Despite wearing elaborate attire, he seemed more suited for a grand banquet than this secluded chamber.
Strangely, though, he appeared quite accustomed to being alone in this place.
He didn’t ask anything, nor did he say a word.
He simply held her hand for a long while.
Oddly enough, the sadness and despair in Yulia’s heart gradually faded away while she was with him.
Even as the sunset faded completely and moonlight began to pour in, he did not leave her side.
Clasping his large hand tightly, Yulia realized for the first time how warm someone’s hand could be.
It was a first. Someone had held her hand so naturally.
When the music finally signaled the end of the banquet, Yulia, who had hesitated, asked him for the first time:
“Um, could you at least tell me your name…?”
In response to her small question, he lowered his eyelids silently before slowly raising them again.
The golden eyes that appeared in that moment were brighter and more beautiful than the moon in young Yulia’s eyes.
“Fernan.”
“…”
“If we meet again someday, you’ll hear your name then.”
That was their last conversation.
After that day, Yulia saw him again at a farewell ceremony two days later.
He stood at the forefront of the Imperial Army leaving for the conquest war.
Fernan Sayreph Formene, the Emperor’s only nephew and the commander leading the Imperial Army in this war.
Yulia, who had met him in a shabby room, was told he was such an extraordinary person.
Only later did Yulia realize that the day they met was actually a gathering to pray for the safe return of the Imperial Army departing for conquest.
Thus, without the chance to meet again, the mysterious man left for the battlefield.
Yet, even after that day, Yulia could not forget the memory of that encounter.
Years passed until Fernan returned as a war hero.
After his return, for a long time, Yulia watched him from afar.
No longer the boy in her memories, he had become a distinguished man, the most celebrated figure in the Empire.
A year later…
Surprisingly, Yulia met him face-to-face for the first time during a meeting to finalize the marriage proposal.
That day, her father said to her,
“Yulia, you will soon be the Duchess.”
The man who received the northern lands of Caesar after the war and succeeded the ducal title, Fernan.
The kind man from her distant memory, who seemed too noble and distant, was to be her husband.
