The Empire’s peerless beauty, the flower of high society, the pride of Dellenhart. Every single one of these titles referred to Rosephine Dellenhart, the second daughter of Count Dellenhart.

Rosephine’s life, embroidered with all manner of splendid epithets, had never known even the slightest curve of crisis. The Dellenhart County had accumulated vast wealth and power through generations of successful business ventures, and the current Count Dellenhart worked tirelessly to preserve the foundation his ancestors had built.

But everything collapsed overnight.

The first button of their downfall was fastened with Count Dellenhart’s reckless investment.

The Count poured enormous sums into a trade venture, planning to monopolize the Empire’s logistics by pioneering a new shipping route. However, a landslide that swept through the Empire several months ago destroyed the construction site.

To make matters worse, a competitor who suddenly appeared pioneered a new route, making it impossible to resume the business. In the end, the Count and his partners withdrew from the venture without any chance to recover from their failure.

Unlike the ambitious beginning, the price of failure was bitter. When the business was forcibly terminated, even the County’s core enterprises that had been put up as collateral began to shake in a chain reaction. 

On top of that, they had to bear the debts inflated by the business venture and the enormous cost of medicine for the Countess, who had been suffering from a rare disease for several years. The Dellenhart County found itself on the brink of bankruptcy in an instant.

The Count, agonizing over how to save his house, came up with a brilliant move.

Though the businesses that had been Dellenhart’s light and pride had crumbled, one more light remained unextinguished.

Rosephine Dellenhart.

The pride of the Dellenhart County, coveted by every man in the Empire.

“With your looks, there will be plenty of men willing to marry you even without a dowry. In fact, there will be men who’ll offer to pay the dowry themselves just to marry you. If you choose and marry the most outstanding among them, it would be a great help to the family.”

Count Dellenhart said this to his beloved daughter, who had promised to do anything for the family. He wrapped his request in all sorts of grandiose words to make it sound plausible, but in the end, it could be explained in one sentence.

He was telling her to be sold for money.

Rosephine couldn’t dare refuse those words that were practically an order.

If she turned her back on the County driven to the edge of a cliff, the County would ultimately fall to ruin.

“…Yes, Father.”

Her father, who had always worked for the family’s prosperity. Her mother, suffering from a rare disease.

Unable to stand by and watch her beloved family’s downfall, Rosephine finally accepted the demand.

* * *

That was the reason for this marriage.

A lavish wedding ceremony wasn’t necessary for a marriage where she was being sold off.

Not even members of the County attended the modest wedding ceremony held in a small rented church.

The only people who appeared at the wedding were Rosephine, her husband, and the officiant.

“I bless the union of these two and pray to God. May God’s grace be with these two who have sworn eternal love.”

While listening to the perfunctory ceremony, Rosephine fell into thought.

Her marriage partner was none other than Marquis Cassius Roventhal. A b*stard son of the Roventhal Marquisate, he had inherited the title three years ago.

“It’s unfortunate that we must bow to a mere b*stard, but there’s no choice.”

Count Dellenhart found it distasteful that the prestigious County had to be associated with a b*stard, but Rosephine secretly rejoiced alone.

It was a perfectly natural emotion, since the person originally set to marry her had been Duke Hexen.

“Rosephine! Rejoice. His Grace Duke Hexen has accepted you.”

The first person to accept the County’s absurd demand wasn’t Marquis Roventhal, but Duke Hexen.

Duke Hexen, older even than Count Dellenhart, was a man who had taken a total of two wives so far.

His first wife couldn’t endure his s*xual ab*se and ended her own life, and his second wife, whom he welcomed less than a month after holding his first wife’s funeral, died of heartbreak the following year.

A marriage with such a horrible man.

She was being sold off, so what kind of extravagant hope could she have wished for? Still, marriage to Duke Hexen seemed more bleak to Rosephine than marriage to anyone else.

Up until that point, Rosephine had no other options. With Dellenhart’s reputation declining, those who would propose to Rosephine while even offering a dowry could be counted on one hand.

Eventually, before entering the Duke Hexen’s estate, Rosephine began receiving bridal training at a location designated by the Hexen Ducal House, which made her circumstances feel even more real.

“Um… why am I learning something other than the qualities of a duchess?”

“My lady, you need not fulfill the duties of a duchess. What His Grace Duke Hexen desires from you is a different role.”

There, they didn’t teach the dignity or qualities a duchess should possess, but rather methods to satisfy her husband in bed and rhetoric suited to pleasing her husband’s moods.

A sacred vow to promise a lifetime with someone you love.

That was the kind of beautiful thing Rosephine thought marriage was, but the reality she faced was nothing more than a filthy, sordid transaction.

To the despairing Rosephine came news that might have been fortunate or unfortunate.

Someone had demanded marriage with Rosephine, offering to pay twice what Duke Hexen had promised.

What’s more, he promised to provide monthly support for maintaining the family, and even offered to pay the penalty the County would incur for breaking the contract with the Ducal House.

With that money, they could not only recover all the businesses handed over as collateral, but also restore the County’s finances that had been shaken by the failed investment. There would be no difficulty securing medicine for the Countess either.

The best option encountered in the worst situation. It was a marriage proposal with absolutely no reason to refuse.

The man who appeared like a savior was Cassius Roventhal.

“Bride and groom, do you both swear before God to spend your lives together?”

The man now standing beside Rosephine.

The long ceremony had finally reached its end.

Following the officiant’s words asking for their vows, Rosephine’s head, which had been lost in thought, lifted slightly. A moment later, guidance followed for the bride and groom to face each other.

Rosephine, whose eyes were covered, moved awkwardly. She took steps in a semicircle, not knowing where to position her head. She didn’t know the eye level of a groom she had never seen.

Rosephine Dellenhart shall appear at the wedding with her eyes covered.

This was one of Cassius’s two demands, who hadn’t imposed any financial conditions whatsoever on this marriage.

“Good heavens, how hideously ugly must he be to demand she cover her eyes during the ceremony?”

She recalled the Countess gasping when she heard that demand. The servants’ reactions too, wondering just how grotesquely he must look to make such a condition.

But Rosephine didn’t care. Cassius wasn’t a sixty-year-old man, nor was he a scoundrel who had driven two wives to their deaths.

Sadly, that fact alone was hopeful enough.

“I swear.”

Only Rosephine answered the vow. Cassius’s response never came.

“With this, the marriage of these two is complete. Bride, now open your eyes and receive your groom.”

At those words, Rosephine began removing the cloth covering her eyes.

It would be an outright lie to say she wasn’t nervous while untying the knot.

In the pitch-black darkness, Rosephine had imagined her husband’s face countless times.

Humans always seek baseless hope, and true to that nature, Rosephine harbored futile hope. She wished at least that he wouldn’t look like some horrifying beast.

Finally, the cloth blocking her vision disappeared, and the first thing Rosephine encountered was a shabby chandelier without even a common crystal embedded in it. Yet even that humble light felt intense now.

She struggled to lift her eyelids that instinctively wanted to close. Her lake-blue eyes looked straight at the man who had become her husband.

“…”

Jet-black hair that contrasted sharply with the sacred church. Facial features roughly formed with bold lines, and above them, golden eyes shining brilliantly.

The moment she came face to face with the man looking down at her with an expressionless face, her heart seemed to sink.

It might have been because Cassius Roventhal was breathtakingly beautiful.

“Darion…?”

Or perhaps because he was the owner of a name she had hidden away deep in her faded memories.

Though she was encountering him for the first time in six whole years, Rosephine could be certain.

Cassius Roventhal, who had appeared out of nowhere one day. This man was her long-lost first love.