What is marriage?

By now, even this would be her third first marriage.

At this point, Isabelle couldn’t help but ask herself that question.

Before the ceremony began, the maid who had finished preparing her looked at her in admiration.

“You look truly beautiful today.”

Isabelle replied without much emotion.

“Thank you.”

Looking in the mirror, Isabelle noticed the maids behind her exchanging uneasy glances. It was only natural — they must have found it unsettling to have a bride who looked as though she were attending a funeral for a distant relative on her wedding day.

But Isabelle couldn’t help it.

She had received similar compliments before, intended to boost a bride’s spirits.

In her first life, she had been so overwhelmed with excitement that she thought she might burst.

This time, however, she felt no thrill, but at least she felt as though she could continue living.

Now, though, she simply felt as though she might die.

When she had been preparing to marry Chester, Viole had been filled with worry. But this time, she said nothing.

Isabelle understood that silence.

If she were in her mother’s position, she would have felt the same way.

It was only just before Isabelle stepped into the hall that Viole found her voice.

“I wish we could stay with you a little longer…”

Her family was due to return to their estate the following morning.

It was a hasty departure, but with spring approaching, leaving the estate was no mean feat for its lord and lady.

Raymond, who had left in the middle of the school term, also needed to return as soon as possible.

Hexter, who had come to escort his daughter, was no different from Viole. He was a man of few words and remained silent until just before the ceremony, when he offered his apology.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright.”

Even Isabelle hadn’t anticipated that the Line family would be accused of heresy. It was like a natural disaster — there was no one to blame.

Unlike in her first life, the ceremony would not be held in the Grand Cathedral, but in a small chapel next to the Crown Prince’s palace.

This had been the Emperor’s suggestion.

“There’s another event scheduled at the cathedral.”

Tenetta had hinted as much when she told her about the change. It was as though she had known all along that Isabelle had expected to get married there.

For Isabelle, it was almost a relief. After everything she had been through, she wasn’t sure she could have set foot in the cathedral again.

The smaller chapel, adorned with ivory, platinum, and stained glass, was already filled with guests.

Most of them were prominent figures — names that would have made her uneasy had she not grown accustomed to such things in her previous life.

Then, among them, her gaze fell on a middle-aged man seated near the front, and she froze, taken aback.

The Emperor himself was in attendance.

This made sense, given that the ceremony was being held in the imperial palace. Besides, Belvadic I and Tenetta had been on fairly good terms. Even if Tenetta had never explained the details.

‘Then again… has that man ever properly explained anything to me?’

“You don’t need to worry.”

The words that Tenetta had always used to shut her out sprang unbidden to mind. Isabelle’s fingers tightened without her noticing.

Hexter glanced at his daughter’s face.

Despite knowing that showing the slightest hint of distress would only make being handed over more humiliating, Isabelle struggled to keep her composure.

Just then—

The groom, who had stood as still as a painting, turned.

A soft gasp rippled through the hall.

Isabelle couldn’t tell whether the gasps were in admiration of his appearance or in shock at his blatant disregard for etiquette.

Most likely the former.

Today, Tenetta looked…blindingly handsome.

Even after everything—after the way he had cornered and provoked her—she couldn’t help but acknowledge that fact. It was almost unsettling.

‘Does beauty, when it crosses a certain line… become a kind of persuasion?’

The man, who looked like an angel laced with undeniable sensuality, took her hand from Hexter and leaned in to whisper,

“I was so bored waiting, I nearly lost my mind.”

“….”

“For a moment, I even imagined you might have run away.”

He truly had no sense of propriety.

Lacking that kind of shamelessness, Isabelle answered with the smallest movement of her lips,

“I’m… not running away.”

Not until this marriage was over, at least. Not until her family was safe.

At her response, his lips curved faintly upwards.

After watching her closely, the officiant finally began to speak.

He was an elderly priest whom Isabelle had never seen before.

At their previous wedding, it had been the archbishop who had officiated. Following the religious reforms that had abolished the position of Pope, Archbishop Agulus had become the most influential figure within the Order.

Tenetta had never been on good terms with him.

Nevertheless, he had once wanted their wedding to be perfect in both religious and political terms. But now… did it no longer matter?

As Isabelle quietly traced the differences between the past and the present, she realized that there was something amiss about the officiant’s words.

“Even if trials like raging flames come, a love that does not melt, but shines in purity…”

Over the priest’s voice, she heard another voice layered atop it—

“If I can be with a woman who made that kind of promise, what does it matter if I end up burning in h*ll?”

Tenetta had said that once, in the basement of Attley Castle.

Then the officiant called the groom’s name.

“Tenetta Achilleton.”

“Do you vow to love your bride, and her alone, forever—no matter what may come?”

At that moment, Isabelle was certain.

‘He altered the vows.’

In Legrandem, the phrase ‘within the embrace of peace’ was always included in wedding vows. This was standard, regardless of social standing.

The unfamiliar face of the priest must also have been a result of this. The archbishop would never have permitted Tenetta to alter the ceremony, so he must have selected someone he could control.

“Yes.”

As expected, the man answered lightly—there was even a hint of laughter in his voice.

Isabelle chose to believe he was mocking her shock.

The officiant turned his gaze to her.

“Isabelle Attley.”

“….”

“Do you, the bride, vow to love your groom, and him alone, forever—no matter what may come?”

Thinking it was a question Tenetta had tampered with only made Isabelle want to answer even less.

As she hesitated, the hand holding hers tightened—a silent insistence.

With effort, she finally spoke.

“Yes.”

The officiant must have sensed her reluctance, but he proceeded as though he hadn’t noticed.

“The bride and groom may now share the kiss of their vows.”

Tenetta turned towards her.

The thin linen veil covering her face was lifted.

For a moment, he simply looked at her, taking her in. Then he moved his large hand to cradle the left side of her face.

He murmured,

“On your toes.”

No matter how full and elaborate the skirt of her wedding dress was, Tenetta had refused to compromise on one thing—her heel height.

“If you don’t want to be carried in my arms as you walk in, wear something lower.”

Even when the tailor insisted that higher heels would make the ceremony more elegant, he wouldn’t give in.

This made the difference in their height even more pronounced, leaving Isabelle with no choice but to tiptoe as he guided her.

He leaned down, his hand settling firmly on her waist.

Their lips met.

Isabelle had assumed it would be nothing more than a formality — a brief gesture in front of so many people — but she quickly realized she was wrong.

The kiss deepened far beyond what she had expected, stealing her breath for a moment.

Startled, she pressed a hand against his chest in a subtle attempt to stop him, but her small, lace-covered hand was hardly enough to restrain him.

Before she could stop it, a soft sound escaped her lips and her ears flushed red.

Watching her closely, his eyes curved faintly.

Annoyed, Isabelle lightly bit down on his lip in protest.

“Ah.”

Having had his tongue bitten, the groom pulled away and let out a quiet laugh.

Isabelle glared at him, her face flushing red.

She wanted to hit him.

Unfazed, Tenetta looked down at her. Seemingly unable to control himself, he leaned in once more.

Isabelle squeezed her eyes shut and braced herself, only to feel his lips settle softly on her forehead.

Her body trembled faintly.

Flustered, the priest hurriedly finished the ceremony.

“Thus, before Pax, who watches over all things, these two are now bound as husband and wife—”

The groom still hadn’t taken his eyes off the bride.

Even through his silk gloves, the traces of a life lived could not be hidden—his hand brushed lightly against the bride’s flushed ear.

“I’ll love you forever, Isabelle.”

There was something strange about his confession; it sounded almost like a murderer’s testimony.

A chill ran through Isabelle.

She tightened her grip on the bouquet.

For a moment, she couldn’t shake off the feeling that she still didn’t fully understand what she had got herself into.