Chapter 17: What Happened at the Wedding (1)
The grand temple’s ceremonial hall was filled with guests.
On the left side of the red carpet leading up to the altar stood knights in uniform, while on the right, sorcerers in their ceremonial robes took their places.
Additionally, nobles who had ties to either family or personal connections added to the grandeur of the occasion.
The hall buzzed with chatter as small groups of guests gathered, talking amongst themselves before the ceremony began.
“With all these knights packed together, I swear I can smell the sweat.”
“Look at that—swords at their waists, even at a wedding! Completely uncultured and barbaric.”
“Those bookworms must really lock themselves away all day. Look how pale they are.”
“Tsk, tsk. No wonder they lack social skills and end up causing all sorts of trouble.”
With knights and sorcerers rarely crossing paths, the two groups exchanged wary glances, openly mocking each other.
And soon, their gossip turned toward the couple of the day.
“I heard Aracila isn’t quitting the Tower even after getting married. What is she thinking?”
“Who knows? She’ll probably regret marrying a knight soon enough.”
“She once told me my brain was filled with pasta noodles, but look at her—acting like a fool when it comes to the most important decision of her life.”
Sally and Rudy, Aracila’s direct juniors from the Tower, narrowed their eyes, glaring at the gossipers.
The moment people realized they worked under Aracila, the chatter quickly died down.
“Ugh, this is so annoying. What do they even know about her?”
“Calm down, Sally. Remember what she told us? Don’t waste energy arguing with idiots—it only makes you look like one too.”
While Rudy held back the fuming Sally, a similar conversation was happening on the knights’ side.
“Why on earth did Sir Vandermir fall for a sorceress?”
“Lady Aracila Hugo has always been famous for her beauty. Turns out our commander is just like any other man—blinded by a pretty face.”
“Heh, he must not realize that beautiful women never stay loyal. He’d better hope he doesn’t end up like Sir Ritterson.”
The chuckling knights suddenly froze as they sensed a dangerous presence.
Turning around, they saw Isaac, the deputy commander of the Crimson Hawk Knights, and Colin, Damian’s aide, standing behind them with icy expressions.
“Who dares speak so freely about the commander of the Crimson Hawks?”
“Yeah, you’d better watch your mouths. It’d be a shame if someone got hurt on such a joyous occasion.”
Isaac’s sharp glare sent a shiver down their spines, and the knights quickly bowed their heads, scurrying away.
Clicking his tongue at their cowardice, Isaac scoffed.
“Tch, those idiots. They can’t even string two words together in front of the commander.”
“We should keep an eye on them. Let’s not have any trouble today,” Colin said, pushing up his glasses.
Isaac nodded in agreement.
There was still some time before the ceremony would begin.
The Bride’s Waiting Room
Aracila’s wedding gown was an off-shoulder ball gown adorned with diamonds and lace.
Her wavy hair was gently let down, with a tiara securing her veil.
Seated gracefully in the waiting room, she looked breathtakingly beautiful.
“My daughter is really getting married…!”
The Marquess of Hugo’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears as he gazed at his daughter.
His wife sighed and lightly smacked his back.
“If you start crying now, what will you do later?”
“I can’t help it, May! The tears just come!”
“You’ve always been too sentimental.”
Shaking her head, the Marchioness pulled out a handkerchief and gently dabbed at her husband’s eyes.
Had it not been for his ridiculously handsome face that perfectly matched her taste, she never would have fallen for a man who cried so much.
“Enough crying, Ned. You’ll have plenty more chances to cry later—at least try to keep your dignity intact.”
“Fine. But could you hold my hand? I think if I hold your hand, I won’t cry as much.”
“Good grief, you big baby.”
Despite her words, a smile tugged at the Marchioness’s lips, and she took his hand affectionately.
While their parents engaged in an impromptu display of affection, the Hugo siblings gathered around Aracila.
“Congratulations on your wedding, Sis.”
Adrien, who had inherited his father’s sentimental nature, was already teary-eyed.
Aracila gently stroked his cheek.
“Thanks, Adrien. You look so dashing today.”
Like when Damian had visited the Marquisate, Adrien had slicked back his hair with pomade, looking neatly dressed.
Finding it adorable, Aracila chuckled softly before turning to her older sister.
“I’m already worried about how I’ll manage without you, Aracila.”
“I’ll visit home often. And you can always come see me at the Tower.”
The two sisters clasped hands with a bittersweet expression.
Having spent their entire lives practically inseparable, the thought of living apart felt hollow.
Aracila rose and hugged each of her family members in turn.
Even though she knew she’d eventually get divorced, at this moment, she felt unexpectedly emotional.
Knock, knock.
Someone rapped on the door.
When it opened slightly, the person standing there was none other than Frederick.
“His Highness, the Crown Prince.”
The Hugo family quickly straightened their postures and greeted him respectfully.
Frederick gave a small, polite nod.
“I’d like to speak with Aracila for a moment. Could you give us some privacy?”
The Marchioness hesitated, unsure whether it was appropriate to leave her daughter alone with another man just before her wedding.
Sensing her hesitation, Frederick spoke again.
“It won’t take long. I just wanted to say a final farewell as a friend.”
“…Very well. Please take your time.”
The Hugo family knew that Frederick and Aracila had been close since their academy days.
It wouldn’t be an issue to leave them alone for a short while.
As the Hugo family exited, the bride’s waiting room fell into silence.
Frederick slowly walked toward Aracila.
It hadn’t been long since they last met, yet he looked noticeably thinner.
“I didn’t think you’d come, Frederick.”
Even though she had sent him gifts and a letter, she hadn’t heard from him since the ball.
She had no idea why he was upset, so she had no choice but to leave him alone.
After all, she couldn’t fix something without knowing what was broken.
“Did you want me not to come?”
“Of course not. You’re my friend.”
Frederick let out a short laugh and rubbed his face with his hands.
His crimson eyes—usually so clear—seemed oddly heavy today.
“Of course I came, Aracila. How could I miss a friend’s wedding?”
“You’re acting like you’re mad for no reason. Did you go on a diet or something? You’ve lost so much weight.”
Even the bride hadn’t dieted for this wedding, yet Frederick looked as if he had been starving himself in her place.
He looked like someone who had been through a great deal of emotional turmoil.
“Aracila.”
“Yeah?”
“No matter what happens, I’ll never let you go.”
Frederick’s face was deadly serious.
His words sounded so random—almost absurd—that Aracila tilted her head in confusion.
It wasn’t as if she was hanging off the edge of a cliff or something.
“I still think your marriage is a mistake… But that doesn’t mean I’ll abandon you because of it.”
“Frederick, what are you even talking about?”
Frowning, Aracila narrowed her eyes.
Her friend was speaking in riddles she couldn’t make sense of, but Frederick continued, his expression unwavering.
“One day, Aracila, you’ll regret this marriage.”
“I won’t.”
“You won’t know that until it happens. But if you ever do… come find me.”
Frederick reached out and gently ran his fingers through her hair.
“Even if you end up sinking into the mud, I’ll be the one to pull you out.”
“I appreciate the loyalty, but do you realize how insulting you sound right now?”
Annoyed, Aracila lightly swatted his hand away.
Of all the things to say to a bride on her wedding day, this was definitely not appropriate.
Frederick stared at his hand for a moment before giving a faint smile.
At first glance, it seemed like his usual soft expression—but something about it felt… off.
“If that upset you, I apologize.”
“Just this once, I’ll let it slide.”
“Thanks. Congratulations, Aracila. I should get going now.”
He took one last look at her in her wedding dress before slowly exiting the room.
Aracila, puzzled, watched him leave.
She hadn’t noticed how cold his expression turned the moment he walked away.
“What’s his problem lately?”
The Vandermir Ducal Family Arrives
The Vandermir family arrived at the temple’s ceremonial hall.
They would have preferred not to attend, but they had no choice—too many eyes were watching.
Even the Grand Duchess had been forced to make the trip from the ducal territory.
Now standing beside the Duke, she scanned the wedding venue with a sharp gaze, her expression one of deep disapproval.
Her neatly pinned silver-streaked hair and rigid posture made her seem even more severe.
“A wedding in such an excessively grand place… completely undeserved.”
“That’s what I’m saying, Mother.”
The Duchess, eager to stay in the Grand Duchess’s good graces, quickly chimed in with agreement.
“Damian doesn’t understand that reaching beyond one’s station leads to disaster.”
“Hmph. That boy spent most of his life outside the family, except for the first seven years. What could he possibly have learned?”
The Grand Duchess practically glared at the knights of the Crimson Hawk Order, her voice filled with disdain.
“Instead of supporting his father, all he’s done is stand in his way. A disgraceful ingrate.”
“Indeed. The fact that he’s forcing this marriage despite the Duke’s opposition says it all.”
While the Grand Duchess and the Duchess muttered in agreement, Oscar, standing nearby, barely stifled a yawn.
His eyes wandered until they landed on a hallway leading toward the bridal waiting room.
“So that’s the way.”
Having mapped out his route, he leaned over and whispered to his mother.
“I need to use the restroom.”
The Duchess, too preoccupied with appeasing the Grand Duchess, absentmindedly nodded.
With a smirk, Oscar slipped away, heading straight for the bride’s waiting room.
It was time to put his plan into motion—seduce Aracila and steal her away from Damian.
The Bride’s Waiting Room
Oscar arrived at the slightly open door and peeked inside.
Bathed in sunlight, Aracila stood quietly in her pure white wedding dress, her gaze lowered.
For a moment, the sight stole his breath away.
She looked like a saint straight out of a painting.
“Yeah… letting Damian have her would be such a waste.”
Grinning, he pushed the door open and cleared his throat loudly.
Aracila turned her head toward him.
…What the hell?
Her expression immediately hardened.
Seeing an uninvited guest brazenly waltz into her waiting room, her blue eyes filled with wariness and irritation.
Why was he here?
Oscar Vandermir was the embodiment of a future traitor—an ambitious little weed that would grow into a full-fledged rebel.
More than that, he was the one responsible for Iris’s death.
There was no way she could ever look at him kindly.
“What business do you have here, Lord Oscar? I don’t recall inviting you in.”
─── ･ ｡ﾟ✧: *. ꕥ .* :✧ﾟ. ───
