“Are you out of your mind?”

Irynsis repeated the words she’d just heard, only to realize they weren’t even worth processing—so she snapped back.

Cassion shrugged his shoulders.

“Sorry for proposing without even a single flower, but I don’t think that warrants calling me insane.”

“I’m asking if there’s a flower stuck in that head of yours.”

Even high-ranking nobles, when taking a mistress, tended to be mindful of status.

And the rest of the world saw Irynsis not as Cambria’s adopted daughter, but as a lowly foreigner.

And yet, here was the strongest madman in the world, boldly declaring that he would not take her as a mistress—but seat her as his Grand Duchess, a woman who would be gossiped about and scorned even in that lesser position.

“No. I’m not marrying you.”

At her firm rejection, this time it was Cassion’s expression that twisted. Others would stake everything they had to claim that position—and yet this woman rejected it so easily.

“Why? You don’t want to be the Grand Duchess?”

“Grand Duchess or whatever—I don’t want to be anything.”

The elegant and noble Grand Duchess, the mistress of House Pathsbender, a woman loved and respected by all the people of the duchy.

No matter how you dressed it up, none of those titles fit Irynsis in the slightest.

“Then just be my wife. I’ve never met a woman who didn’t want that.” 

“Memory loss, is it? You just met one.”

“Huh. I thought it was my eyesight that was the problem, but I guess it’s my memory too.”

“No, the biggest problem is the nonsense coming out of your mouth.”

“Well, it seems my wife’s most charming trait is her sharp tongue.”

As the endless bickering dragged on, Irynsis finally let out a sigh. Cassion, meanwhile, remained unfazed, simply shrugging as he gently adjusted the coat she was wearing—his own.

He stepped in closer, tying the sleeves firmly in a knot so it wouldn’t fall off, then leaned in and whispered near her ear, as if declaring a vow.

“I have no intention of taking a mistress. If I must have a woman, the Grand Duchess will be the only one.”

There would be no exceptions.

“So you’re saying you’ll make me Grand Duchess just so you can have me all to yourself?”

“Well, the way you put it, it sounds terribly indecent but it’s not wrong.”

“Can’t you choose just one? Either be shameless or be virtuous?”

“Wouldn’t a husband with a range of charms be more enjoyable?”

Irynsis exhaled a long sigh.

It felt like talking to a mountain of stone. Worse still, the damned boulder had a silver tongue.

She hadn’t expected Cassion to come at her like this. Now the alliance felt more complicated than ever, and her head began to ache.

In the end, burdened with nothing but a tangle of confusion and no resolution, she abruptly stood and stormed off.

“Come back when you’ve come to your senses.”

With a sharp tug, Irynsis pulled her veil over her head and walked away. Her unsteady gait remained, and Cassion’s gaze lingered on her retreating figure with quiet intensity.

Irynsis hoped—desperately—that he would clear his head and change his mind. But such a thing never happened.

In fact, he shattered her hope entirely.

“Wh-what on earth is all this…?”

That day, the butler of House Cambria was run ragged trying to receive the workers who streamed in, each carrying jewel cases. Cassion had purchased every single gem from the exhibition and sent them, along with a formal proposal letter, addressed to Irynsis.

Of course, thanks to Cambria’s meddling, the jewels never made it to her hands. But the wave it created was immense.

“They’ve all lost their damned minds.”

A newspaper came flying and smacked Irynsis on the forehead before falling to her feet.

‘Grand Duke Pathsbender Issues Formal Proposal to House Cambria.’

‘Bride-to-be Is Not Lomia Cambria, But the Foreign-Born Foster Daughter.’

Irynsis skimmed the headline and muttered curses under her breath. It was obvious who had tipped off the press.

‘You really used the newspaper I asked you to buy like this?’

Cassion Pathsbender’s smug grin flashed in her mind. Her fists clenched instinctively, driven by the overwhelming urge to punch him square in the face.

“At least say something!”

Jarvis, furious at her blank expression, shouted at her.

“How can you act so shamelessly when your sister is the Saintess? Have you ever considered my reputation?”

Lomia burst into sobs.

Irynsis let out a dry laugh. Honestly, wasn’t the biggest contributor to their family’s disgrace Tod Cambria, who’d made his name infamous through a scandalous affair with a knight?

“What’s so funny, you wretched thing?”

Smack!

With a deadly silence settling over the room, Marchioness Brenda slapped Irynsis hard across the face.

As the sting spread through her cheek, Irynsis slowly turned her head back, rubbing the inside of her cheek with her tongue.

“If you’ve already swallowed all those jewels, you could at least pretend to take some responsibility.”

“What did you say?”

“As you said, what power does a lowly girl like me have to refuse the Grand Duke of Pathsbender? I have none, so please go ahead and refuse him yourselves.”

At her perfectly reasonable remark, the Marchioness’s face flushed a deep red with rage, unable to come up with a retort.

“I have no power, so do as you see fit and refuse him on my behalf.”

“Irynsis!”

“That’s enough!”

At last, Romia screamed and shot to her feet, and Irynsis thundered back.

“But Father—!”

“Enough, Romia. And you!”

Irynsis’s sharp gaze bore into Jarvis like it would set her ablaze.

He couldn’t throw her out—she was still too useful. But locking her away entirely would just lead to Lomia whining and pestering him again, which was even more of a headache.

“You’ll be staying in the basement for a while. And from now on, you’ll be followed wherever you go.”

As expected, Jarvis planned to starve her for a few days again.

In her first life, Irynsis would’ve been terrified of being locked away and begged for mercy, crying all the while. But now, things were different.

Rather than getting slapped around, it was far better to be left alone in confinement for a few days without food.

“Well then, I’ll be going.”

Irynsis turned away without a care, and the Marchioness gave her a disapproving glance as she walked off. Her steps, heading toward the basement of her own accord, were light—almost as if she were flying.

‘A divorce between Tod Cambria and the princess is being discussed, and now there are marriage talks with Pathsbender.’

The Emperor was surely beside himself—especially since he knew Irynsis’s true worth better than anyone.

And because he could so clearly imagine the Emperor’s reaction, the Marchioness of Cambria was all the more sensitive about it.

“It’s about time to cut off Cambria’s financial lifeline.”

She could handle it alone if she had to—but it would be better to ask Cassion for help.

That way, that fool might finally drop all this nonsense about marriage and making her Grand Duchess,  and simply take her hand instead.

*

“Bianca.”

“No, Your Majesty! How can you send me back without a proper apology?”

Bianca burst into tears.

The Emperor clutched his aching head and let out a deep sigh.

It had already been quite some time since the princess had returned to the imperial palace, sobbing that she wanted a divorce. Though Cambria had certainly acted disgracefully, the annulment of a marriage alliance was still a troublesome matter for the Imperial Family.

“Marquis Cambria has offered to surrender the entire Samaranda Mine to the Crown. I’ll make sure you get a generous share as well.”

The Emperor, who had been treating the Marquis coldly for several days, had finally softened—
the offer of the long-coveted mine proving too tempting to resist. From the Marquiss’s standpoint, the loss must have been far more painful than expected.

“What I want is for that lowborn bastard to kneel before the palace and beg for forgiveness!”

But the princess, whose pride had been deeply wounded, showed no signs of relenting.

‘That damned illegitimate bastard.’

Even after receiving word of the princess’s demand, Tod had not once stepped foot near the Imperial Palace. All he’d sent was a brief letter of apology—no more than a few lines.

The Marquis of Cambria looked about ready to tie Tod up in front of the princess’s quarters himself, but the bastard had stormed out of the house and had been holed up with his mistress for days.

In the end, it was the Marquis who found himself caught in the middle—but the Emperor couldn’t afford to keep dragging things out either.

His son was no less of a scoundrel.

‘Declan!’

Grinding his teeth, the Emperor thought of Declan, whom he had sent away under the pretense of inspecting the lives of the people.

He had simply told the Marquis of Cambria that the experiment had failed, but even now, he couldn’t believe that the sacred relic they had gone to such lengths to create had been lost so easily.

“Marquis Foster is said to be hosting a grand ball soon. Your husband will offer a public apology then—why don’t you attend?”

Matilda Foster was the Emperor’s younger sister. He had even gone so far as to send word to his married sister, urging her to host the event and invite the Cambria.

The Marquis of Cambria was quick-witted enough to know this was an olive branch. Which meant that, no matter what, he would have to drag Tod Cambria there and make him kneel before the princess.

The Emperor’s eyes gleamed coldly.

*

Things weren’t any less chaotic for the Pathsbenders.

“Your Grace, have you truly gone mad?”

The absurd rumor that Cassion had proposed sent the entire Pathsbender household into an uproar.

“And to think you all used to wail in unison, saying your only wish was for me to get married.”

“We didn’t know this would be the bride!”

“Watch your mouth. She’s the woman I personally chose to be Grand Duchess.”

Cassion’s gaze turned sharp and cold.

“My apologies.”

Jubin pressed his lips together and lowered his head. Though he had been close to Cassion since childhood, there were still lines that could not be crossed.

At times, Jubin had danced dangerously close to that line with his excessive affection, but he had never forgotten where the boundary lay.

“Still, Your Grace may I ask why? This doesn’t seem like the kind of decision you’d make under normal circumstances.”

Escal carefully voiced what all of them were thinking. Jubin and Hugo immediately perked up, just as eager for an explanation.

“She’s the one who cured the plague.”

At those words, the three squad captains fell silent, blinking at each other in disbelief.

“Well then, I suppose she has no choice but to become the Grand Duchess. Hoho.”

Hugo scratched the back of his head with a sheepish laugh.

Jubin, meanwhile, let out a breath of relief upon realizing there was actually a reason behind that absurd proposal—so his lord hadn’t gone completely mad after all.

Between Hugo laughing like a madman and Jubin sighing as if he’d lost the world, Escal calmly interjected with a composed voice.

“Is it absolutely necessary for her to become Grand Duchess in order to continue the treatment?”

“…Something like that.”

“Then I will order preparations for the wedding to begin at the ducal estate.”

At those words, Cassion fell silent, lips pressed tightly together.

“Your Grace?”

Even when called again, Cassion gave no reply, and Escal tilted his head in confusion.

“Don’t tell me, you were rejected?”

“Damn it.”

Cassion slammed his fist onto the desk with a loud thud, and the three unit commander stared at him, mouths agape.

‘A woman who could reject the Grand Duke himself.’

Such audacity, if nothing else, was surely a quality befitting a Grand Duchess.