WGMFTR | Chapter 22

Episode 22

Lydia quickly realized how unnecessarily emotional and rambling she had been, and gently hid her face between her knees.

‘This isn’t what I meant to say.’

Ilian Esteban, though occasionally giving sarcastic responses, was surprisingly good at listening without interrupting.

His calm silence made her let out things she didn’t need to say.

Ilian decided to pretend not to notice the vulnerable side of Lydia, who usually seemed self-reliant and daring but now wanted to hide behind that image again.

Because if he acknowledged the side he had accidentally glimpsed, she would probably get startled, hide away in some hole, and pretend nothing happened.

“The last time I cried was probably when I was six, and my sister stole my pudding.”

At the unexpected anecdote from the marquis, Lydia let out a faint laugh.

Watching the slight smile form on his lips made her vaguely imagine he must have smiled more often as a child.

Lydia, regardless of anything else, was thankful to him for catching her just before she fell into a bottomless pit of gloom, and she replied with an unbroken smile.

“Countess Rodrigo said she wouldn’t be able to attend the wedding, right?”

“I sent word, but it won’t be easy for her to leave the Lescal Archipelago suddenly. It’s too far away.”

Lescal Archipelago. The islands at the southern tip of the continent were indeed geographically very far from the capital.

“Still, I’m sure she must be disappointed.”

“She did fill an entire parchment with scolding. Said I should’ve at least given her a heads-up if I was seeing someone.”

Unfortunately, even the couple getting married hadn’t known they would be doing so just a month ago, so it couldn’t be helped.

Still, Lydia felt somewhat relieved that there was someone who cared enough to worry about Ilian Esteban, who carried an aloof dignity that sometimes looked like solitude.

“Since Madeline Ines won’t make it in time either, at least the ceremony will pass quietly.”

Though the cold words weren’t directed at her, Lydia couldn’t help feeling a bit unsettled by their chill.

“In any case, I hope it all passes quickly.”

“Eager to become the marchioness already?”

At first, that line had sounded like a reproach. But today, it seemed to carry a different meaning.

“…If you don’t want me to be the marchioness who embarrasses House Esteban at the wedding reception, then please help me memorize the guest list properly.”

“The only people you really need to know are the crown prince Alec.”

Lydia welcomed the mention of information she’d been curious about and asked again.

“His Highness, the Crown Prince?”

“Yes. We’ve been close for a long time, so you can treat him comfortably and trust him to some extent.”

“Though no matter how close you are, he wouldn’t know you’re cursed, or that this is a contractual marriage, right?”

A look implying “isn’t that obvious?” settled on Lydia.

“The one who knows me best is none other than you, Lydia Solem.”

His tone was calm, as if saying “that’s only natural.” As if even he didn’t realize the weight of what he had just said.

Lydia also became newly aware of that fact.

Though he seemed to act in his own way, Ilian Esteban, given his noble standing, was still quite generous in accepting her behavior and treated her with ease.

Lydia wasn’t sure whether to welcome that, be wary of it, or feel anxious, so she deliberately suppressed her confused emotions.

***

On the day of the wedding, Lydia, standing in a white dress at last, was resenting her past self who had agreed to go through with this.

There was nothing wrong with the wedding itself.

Rather, she was reflecting on how shortsighted she had been to jump in with the simple logic that lifting a curse wouldn’t be that hard.

‘It is really beautiful…’

Lydia decided to focus on appreciating the ceremony venue, which clearly showed the tremendous attention to detail poured into it.

The wedding garden, created with all their strength in the heart of the estate, was covered in blooming flowers, blending perfectly with the full bloom of spring.

“You may enter now.”

At the whisper beside her, her whole body tensed up again as nervousness welled inside her.

That’s right—she was the bride, just moments away from walking into the ceremony.

Stepping lightly onto the path paved with white roses, Lydia fixed her eyes on Ilian waiting at the far end.

She had no choice.

If she looked even slightly to the side, she’d meet sharp gazes directed her way, making her feel like a subject of evaluation.

With each step closer, Ilian’s relaxed expression, in contrast to her own anxiety, became more clearly visible—and it was a little annoying.

When she got close, Ilian stepped forward, perhaps to show off their affectionate bond, or perhaps because he noticed her stumbling as the dress kept tangling with her high heels, and took her hand.

“Why are you so nervous?”

Though his lowered voice lacked any trace of romance, he looked every bit the caring groom on the outside.

His action—stepping forward and gently leading her—elicited low murmurs of admiration from the guests.

“It’s natural to be nervous.”

Lydia recalled the expression of the woman standing in the front row, who looked too much like Princess Yulina to be anyone else but the queen.

The princess herself didn’t seem to be present. Apparently, she hadn’t attended.

That was a relief, and Lydia let out a small breath of ease. But still, the cursed dress made breathing difficult, and it was hard to completely hide her discomfort.

Noticing this, Ilian cast a sideways glance at the elderly noble officiating the ceremony, who was said to be quite distinguished.

“On this blessed day, on this day… ahem, ahem…”

Perhaps conscious of Ilian’s gaze, the old man hastily flipped through the pages of his notes.

Lydia thought to herself that while they called it the warm spring sun, it was in fact blazing heat, and wearing this dress under it was excruciating. She resisted the urge to fan herself.

After who knows how long, the words she had been waiting for finally came.

“…I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

Only then did Lydia realize a problem she hadn’t considered at all.

Wasn’t there supposed to be a kiss to symbolize the declaration of marriage?

But the issue was—they weren’t that kind of couple at all.

Whether she was flustered or not, Ilian pulled her close by the waist with one hand, lowered his head, and with the other hand, cupped her face and moved very, very close.

“Just this once, excuse me.”

He murmured the words at a distance where his lips almost brushed hers.

Lydia’s hand, which had been resting on his chest, tensed up briefly before relaxing.

As if saying she would permit it just this once because it was unavoidable, Ilian gently pressed his lips against hers—so lightly, it could hardly be called a kiss.

Even after Ilian pulled back, the sound of polite applause continued for a while.

Though time had passed, Lydia still felt the vivid sensation of the kiss on her lips and absentmindedly touched them.

Then she looked up at Ilian.

He made no move to wipe away the faint blush spreading on his lips.

Before taking her hand again, Lydia gently brushed it off for him.

He let her do as she wished, and only after taking her hand and turning forward again did his gaze leave her.

Was the fluttering in her heart just an illusion—or had something truly changed?

“…Are you okay?”

At Ilian’s barely audible question, all Lydia could do was nod.

It felt like that was the only answer she could give.