Chapter 1
Prologue
“Miss, it’s time for breakfast.”
Just as Julia finished dressing me up, another maid approached to inform me that it was time for breakfast. I rose from my seat and began walking slowly towards the dining room.
Familiar faces were already seated in the dining room.
“You’re late,”
said my father in a displeased voice. I gave a slight bow of my head to greet him and found my seat.
“Father, please scold Diarna. How rude of her to be late when even you are waiting,”
said Cecilia in a sweet voice. I turned to look at Cecilia, who was smiling brightly.
“She might disgrace the family even after getting married.”
As I ignored her and tried to take my seat, Cecilia threw in another remark. It wasn’t the first time Cecilia mocked my behavior, but today, her words particularly stung.
“Marriage?”
“Enough. Sit down,”
my father commanded, showing his irritation as I tried to question her. I had no choice but to sit down. As soon as I sat, the meal began.
“Diarna, we will proceed with your marriage to Count Theodore.”
Despite it being a marriage that would determine my life, my father decided unilaterally.
“……”
Instead of responding, I looked up at him. When my mother was alive, he was the most affectionate father in the world, but now, after inheriting the title of Duke, he was worse than a stranger.
“You’re going to die soon anyway. It’s better for you to go than sending Cecilia, who has a bright future ahead.”
“So, does that mean they originally asked for Cecilia?”
“……”
My father gave no answer. If only he had lied, it wouldn’t have felt so empty. I knew it was supposed to be my marriage all along. Still, couldn’t he have at least pretended to console me? Even though I wasn’t his biological daughter, could he really sell me off so easily?
Many thoughts swirled in my head. They were the remnants of foolish attachment and lack of affection. But now, I had to accept it. My father did not love me. And he was trying to sell me off for a high price before anyone discovered my illness.
“Father.”
“I won’t listen to any complaints,”
he said sternly, frowning as if he thought I was about to express dissatisfaction. But perhaps because he had to sell me to Count Theodore soon, he didn’t raise his hand. Should I be grateful for not being hit, or should I lament this reality?
The thought made me laugh.
“For my illness, have you ever tried to find a cure?”
It was a question I had never dared to ask him before. Had he ever tried to save me?
My father called out my name, gripping his wine glass tightly. It looked like he was ready to throw it at me, so I closed my eyes and shrank back.
Was I supposed to marry someone I didn’t love for the sake of the family because I was going to die anyway? Had he even prepared any medicine for me? Or was he just waiting for the day I would die?
It was true that finding a cure for my illness was difficult. But giving up because it was hard and at least trying were worlds apart.
“If you’re going to say something useless, go upstairs.”
Crash.
The sharp sound of breaking glass echoed. At the same time, my cheek started to burn. I exhaled the breath I had been holding and slowly opened my eyes. Not far from me, the wine glass lay shattered. When I touched my cheek with a trembling hand, I felt a warm liquid on my fingertips. It was blood.
I quietly raised my head and looked around. My father was no longer looking at me. My stepsister Cecilia was desperately trying to suppress her laughter. Seeing the blood on my fingertips left a bitter taste in my mouth.
I wondered why I had struggled so hard to stay alive. My life felt ridiculous. I covered my face with both hands. Strangely, laughter kept bubbling up.
After struggling for a while to calm down, I finally managed to stop laughing and lifted my head.
“Alright. I’ll get married.”
If marriage was the only way to escape this wretched house, I would gladly accept it. A small emotion flickered in my chest like a spark. It was a feeling difficult to define.
* * *
“Lady Diarna is truly pitiful.”
I had just finished dressing and was about to leave my room when I heard the maids talking beyond the door.
“Did you hear that rumor? About Count Theodore.”
“I did. Are you talking about the man who tried to swindle Count Theodore and got his head chopped off?”
“Yes. Originally, Count Theodore wanted Cecilia from our family, but we’re sending Lady Diarna instead. This is also a sort of…”
It was a kind of scam. What the Tristan Ducal House was doing to Count Theodore was indeed a scam.
I already knew that Count Theodore showed no mercy to those who deceived him. Just a few months ago, a merchant who tried to con him was beheaded and his head was displayed on the city walls. The news had spread all the way to the capital.
If Count Theodore found out everything about me, I’d be in just as much danger.
As I opened the door and stepped out of the room, the maids bustled about, lining up and bowing their heads deeply.
“Are you ready to leave?”
“Yes, I’m leaving right away.”
Pretending not to have heard their conversation, I left the mansion and got into the carriage. As everything was already prepared, the carriage began to move slowly as soon as I boarded.
The view through the window wavered with every bump of the carriage. I looked outside to ease my frustration, but it didn’t help much. I sighed softly and shifted my gaze to my fingers. My hands, placed on the well-dressed dress, fidgeted as if expressing my frustration.
Having accepted the marriage, the process moved swiftly. And so, I was now on my way to Count Theodore’s mansion.
There wasn’t even a proper wedding ceremony. From Count Theodore’s perspective, it was a marriage in name only, so he probably didn’t want a ceremony. The Tristan Ducal House and I were in a position where we couldn’t refuse his demands, and the wedding was no exception.
To my father, the Duke of Tristan, I was an obstacle, so he didn’t oppose it. Even though it was a marriage with a different purpose, having a decent wedding should have been natural. But for me, it was just a luxury.
Yes, this was the plot I knew.
Even if I married Count Theodore, neither he nor the Duke of Tristan would gain anything from me. After all, I wasn’t the Duke’s biological daughter. My father actually wanted to get rid of me. I was the legitimate heir of my mother, the former Duchess of Tristan.
My father, who never acknowledged me as his daughter and always abused me, had found the perfect opportunity. On days when he lost money gambling, he would blame me and hit me, unable to bear the guilt of having taken everything from me. Why he resolved his guilt by abusing me, I could never understand.
In the midst of this, Count Theodore appeared, offering a large sum of money for a marriage with one of the Duke’s daughters. It was only natural that my father accepted the offer without a second thought. He got rid of me and received money, killing two birds with one stone.
The problem came afterward.
Count Theodore, unaware of these circumstances, tried to leverage his relationship with the Duke. But the Duke, having gained what he wanted and rid himself of a burden, had no reason to cooperate with Count Theodore. Enraged by the Duke’s uncooperative behavior, Count Theodore treated me as a nonentity.
In the original story, my existence was described briefly when the female protagonist was kidnapped and taken to the antagonist’s mansion. Remembering this is easy because I was the one who created this novel. At the time, I designed my character as a disposable one to highlight the villain, but living it out made me painfully aware of how miserable it was.
“We’ve arrived, my lady,” the coachman said as the carriage came to a slow stop. It seemed we had finally reached Count Theodore’s mansion.
“I’ll open the door,” he said.
“Yes,” I replied.
As soon as I finished speaking, the door opened. With the coachman’s help, I stepped out of the carriage and looked at the mansion. It was as large and splendid as our ducal residence.
“Welcome, madam.”
The servants and maids standing orderly at the entrance bowed to me. Contrary to my expectation of being treated poorly due to the absence of a wedding, it seemed they intended to treat me as the lady of the house. It was a great relief.
A middle-aged woman with neatly tied light brown hair, who had been bowing at the front, straightened up and approached me.
“We’ve been expecting you, madam. I am Olivier Lorette, the head maid of this mansion. Please feel free to call me Olivier.”
“Yes, Olivier. Nice to meet you,” I replied, and Olivier bowed deeply again.
“Please come inside. It’s cold out here.”
“Alright.”
As I moved forward, the servants and maids stepped aside to make way for me. I followed Olivier into the mansion.
