WGMFTR | Chapter 6

Episode 6

Lydia finally confirmed that the basket was safely closed and carefully stood up holding it.

Then she was startled to see Marquis Esteban still standing there blankly.

“Are you alright? Is there another problem…?”

Ilian tried to hide his obviously trembling hand within his coat but then decided to momentarily let go of his pride.

“It seems the glove got caught on a claw. It’s unusable now.”

It was a poor excuse—so bad that if his sister had seen it, she would have clicked her tongue in dismay.

But that wasn’t what mattered to him at this moment.

He took off one glove carelessly and stuffed it into his coat pocket. Then he moved ahead of Lydia, who was about to lift the luggage, picked it up himself, and extended his bare hand to her.

“I can go down the stairs on my own. It’s fine.”

“In noble society, you’ll need to get used to this kind of escort.”

He managed to come up with a good excuse in a pinch. At his words, Lydia gave a small exclamation and nodded, then took his hand again.

From their clasped hands, a warmth seemed to spread through his body, calming his entirely.

This touch, which quieted the curse’s noise that pierced his head when everything around was silent and subdued the pain that made even moving his arms difficult, was more welcome than anything.

As soon as they boarded the carriage and let go of hands, the dull ache in his arm and the screaming in his head returned as if they had been waiting.

“Marquis, are you alright?”

As he held his head, a worried voice reached out to him. Just as he was about to wave it off as nothing—

With the clatter of the carriage setting off, a white bundle of fur poked its face out from the basket.

“Oh my, Didi! You shouldn’t do that. Come here, okay?”

The animal, hesitant at first, then gracefully settled onto his lap with dissatisfaction.

But when Lydia’s hand reached out, its attitude changed.

The delicate hand that extended from a slender wrist, exposed beneath her long sleeve, looked unusually alluring.

“Leave it be.”

“But…”

“Is it like this when you pet it?”

He intentionally touched the wrong spot.

“Not like that.”

As she tried to guide his hand to the correct position, she moved to sit beside him instead.

Naturally, she placed her hand over his and gently stroked the cat.

“Ah. Not there—yes, here. It likes being stroked gently right here. You hear me?”

If his sister had seen this pathetic scene, she would’ve gasped and insisted that such a pitiful fellow couldn’t possibly be her brother.

Ilian, perhaps, longed for Lydia’s touch even more than the white cat purring on his lap.

“I’m glad you seem to like cats.”

Maybe from today, he would have to.

Ilian looked at the softly purring creature, tail swaying, overtaken by a strange intuition.

He had been certain that marrying Lydia would change little in his daily life, that they would see each other briefly out of necessity.

But maybe—just maybe—a lot was going to change for him too. That was the intuition.

“Aren’t you getting out?”

Lydia looked blankly at the blond man extending his hand after getting out of the carriage, but couldn’t bring herself to take it.

Because the large ivory mansion unfolding behind him felt overwhelmingly burdensome.

She couldn’t quite believe she was supposed to step into that place now.

Marquis Esteban.

Yes, he was a marquis. A noble with a title.

At the antique shop earlier, she had been on familiar ground, and since he didn’t say much even when she had been quite informal, things had passed without issue.

But now, reality was sinking in.

“There’s no backing out now.”

“I never said I wanted to.”

“You look like you’re about to say, ‘Let’s forget about the marriage’ and run off.”

At Ilian Esteban’s indifferent tone as he leaned back into the carriage and rested his arm on the door, her tension eased a little.

“I’m not that irresponsible.”

“Then get out. Unless you plan to sit here all day.”

With the basket held tightly in one arm and the other hand holding his, she stepped down from the carriage. At that moment, his face subtly twisted and he gripped her hand more firmly.

Even his slightly pained expression looked almost artistic. The sunlight hitting his golden hair made Marquis Esteban’s appearance even more unreal.

Lydia finally came to her senses under his gaze and asked,

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No.”

There clearly seemed to be a problem, but he didn’t say more.

Feeling uneasy, Lydia studied his expression, but the marquis looked perfectly fine.

Then suddenly, a realistic thought crossed her mind.

“So, what should I do now? Is it okay to just walk in like this?”

“Just follow my lead and stand quietly by my side. I’ll take care of everything.”

She wished he wouldn’t say things like “I’ll take care of it,” which sounded carefree to him but did nothing to reassure the listener.

The problem was that she had been too distracted by Didi’s sudden escape attempt in the carriage.

Now that they were at the mansion, she regretted not asking even the most basic questions about what she was supposed to do, what to expect, or prepare for.

“Master, welcome back. And the young lady beside you…?”

But Lydia had no time to protest and ask for a proper explanation and plan.

Because someone who seemed to be the butler had come to greet them at the main entrance.

“She’s an important guest. My fiancée-to-be—make sure you know that.”

A firm hand that slid up her back and settled on her shoulder gave her strength—and a bewildering contradiction of feelings.

The marquis embraced her warmly as if they were truly lovers.

He even casually kissed the top of her head and continued speaking.

“Give her a room close to mine.”

“…You mean the fiancée?”

The butler, who looked utterly dumbfounded, finally managed a response, showing great professional restraint.

Lydia could completely sympathize with his reaction. She had felt the same when this man beside her had proposed out of nowhere.

To be honest, it still felt like a story from a fairy tale or a dream that Marquis Esteban had made anything resembling a proposal.

You know how it is—when reality feels too unreal, your mind just accepts it blankly. That was Lydia right now.

“Yes, Lydia’s the reason I’ve been going out so often recently. And since she accepted my proposal today, I figured it was time to bring her here. I didn’t want to be apart from her anymore.”

This time, their fingers intertwined.

But unlike earlier, when he had acted out the loving fiancé with ease, the hand that held hers didn’t let go easily.

Lydia, in need of anything to keep her grounded, thought perhaps this firm grip was better than nothing. So she didn’t try to pull away.

The calm that came from their joined hands seemed to help settle her anxious, pounding heart.

The butler’s eyes stopped at their clasped hands.

Then his gaze returned to Lydia’s face, and he formally greeted her.

“You must be Miss Lydia. It’s an honor to meet you. My name is Frederick. Please feel free to call me Fred.”

“…It’s nice to meet you too.”

Not stating a surname meant, without question, that she was not a noble.

The butler surely noticed this, yet he showed no sign of what he thought of it.

“Right this way. I had just been thinking of instructing a guest room to be cleaned today—seems I must have known this would happen.”

The elderly butler, bowing politely and gesturing inward, moved with grace.

But in his gaze toward the marquis, there was a slight note of reproach.

“If you had given me a heads-up about bringing such a beautiful young lady, I would have prepared more thoroughly.”

“You’ve known since I was young that I do as I please.”

“Still, marriage is a serious matter. Of course, I truly welcome Miss Lydia. I thought I’d never live to see you married, but now my wish has come true.”

Hearing the butler’s pleased tone and the marquis’s brusque but not cold response, it seemed the two had built a long-standing relationship of trust.

His frequent outings were likely not to meet her, but to research the curse.

And yet, to hide his condition so perfectly even from this trusted butler—it was thorough, but also made her wonder if he lived an incredibly isolated life.

Lydia, feeling a quiet guilt for deceiving someone who seemed so kind, made an effort to speak as kindly as possible.

“Thank you for the warm welcome. On the way in, I saw the garden through the window—it’s beautifully maintained.”

“I’ll be sure to pass your compliment to the gardener. Our master rarely invites guests, so the gardener had little motivation lately.”

Now, with an expression that mixed pride and joy, the butler continued.

“By the way, when will the wedding be? Shall I begin preparations in earnest?”

“Within a month.”

“…Excuse me?”

“What?”

The first was Lydia’s startled reaction to the idea of holding an actual wedding for this marriage, while the latter was the butler’s shocked response at the short time frame.