***

‘He… smiles?’

With her hair still in the maid’s hands, Helena sank into thought.

The Empress had described him as “as cautious as a small bird and as fierce as a wild beast”.

And yet he’d accepted the proposal with the urgency of someone desperate to marry – as if he couldn’t afford to be choosy.

What’s more, Helena had only seen two people in the Count of Ishpern’s party. Including the Count himself, there were only three.

Even allowing for the fact that her visit had been facilitated by the use of a gate, it still felt far too few.

A relic of the mage era, the Gate was a vital transport system that allowed people to travel instantly between cities across the vast empire.

However, using a gate required an enormous amount of magic stones, and the fee was astronomical.

For this reason, it was customary to keep the number of travellers as small as possible when using the gate.

But still – no carriage, no attendants, just the three of them? It was a matter of courtesy.

‘And after showing up like that, he has the nerve to smile like he’s happy? Is he an idiot?’

Helena stared at her reflection in the mirror with a serious expression on her face.

Her hair, carefully brushed by the maids, shone with a healthy sheen, and her face, painted with artistic devotion, looked more beautiful than ever.

With a scowl, Helena snapped.

“Why did you make me look so pretty? Keep it simple! As usual!”

One of the maids replied cautiously –

“But, my lady, this is your first meeting with Count Ishpern. Of course you should wear make-up and look your best.”

“Should I, really?”

“Pardon?”

Helena gave the maid a sharp look.

“How I look isn’t the important thing right now. What matters is what kind of person he is.”

The maids, already used to Helena’s sudden remarks, just burst out laughing.

“Oh, my lady, really. You’ll find out soon enough – to the last detail.”

“Kyaahaha! She’s at it again.”

As the laughter died down, one of the maids leaned over and whispered confidentially to Helena.

“My lady, it turns out that all those rumours we heard about Count Ishpern… were wrong.”

“What rumours?”

“That he’s incredibly handsome…!”

Helena’s eyes widened.

“So he’s not really that handsome?”

The maid, who had been trying hard to stay composed, began to blush slightly.

Then, covering her mouth with both hands, she exclaimed—

“Not only is he incredibly handsome! I can’t believe such a beautiful man actually exists…”

“Really? Really?”

“I-I want to see him too…!”

Helena grabbed the hands of the excited maids and held them tightly.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

“Huh?”

“But my lady! You just said we should tone down your make-up -“

Helena smiled wickedly.

“You’re not going.”

“A-ah, my ladyyy…!”

“What kind of maid leaves a trembling bride on the eve of her wedding just to sneak a peek at the groom’s face? You’re supposed to stay by the bride’s side.”

“You weren’t trembling at all! You were thinking about something else until just now…!”

“If I can’t see him, neither can you.”

“Waaah…!”

“Well, I can’t afford to look easy either. I guess I’ll have to really dress up. Let’s see how far I can go in turning this pumpkin into a carriage.”

“My lady, how can you call such a beautiful face a pumpkin?”

Despite her protests, the maids eagerly resumed adorning Helena with renewed enthusiasm.

As they brought out various accessories and held them up to her, Helena sank into thought.

‘It’s nice if he’s handsome… but if I have to stab him in the back later, being too handsome might be a problem…’

***

As Helena Winston entered the banqueting hall, all eyes immediately turned to her.

Tonight she was breathtakingly beautiful.

Her voluminous auburn hair was adorned with pearls weighing nearly a kilo, and her silver gown was layered at the hem with soft violet and scarlet silk lace.

She looked like a goddess wrapped in clouds at sunset.

Cries of admiration for her beauty rang out from all corners of the banquet hall.

“Lady Helena Winston, you are as beautiful as ever…!”

But Helena didn’t seem to be satisfied.

Standing at the railing of the grand staircase leading down to the ballroom, she held her head and waist up and surveyed the room below. Then she said.

“What day is it? I can’t believe it’s so full.”

At her words, Helena’s loyal admirers – who had been waiting eagerly at the foot of the stairs – rushed up the steps to reach her.

They kissed the back of her hand and each spoke in turn:

“Helen, you are the eternal queen of my heart…”

“Even if you become another man’s wife, my feelings for you will never change.”

“My love is spiritual… and eternal…”

Helena let their mindless praise wash over her, barely listening as she descended the stairs with graceful, elegant steps – one after the other – towards the banquet hall.

With dreamy eyes she looked up at the man holding her hand and asked.

“So… who will be my husband? Are you?”

Sir Stan, her ever faithful admirer, was so enraptured that he almost answered yes on impulse.

But as he gazed at Helena – even more devastatingly beautiful than usual – he forced himself to reply with painful devotion.

“Ah, my queen… This cowardly and foolish servant is not worthy of such an honour. The man who shall be your loyal knight… is Count Ishpern, over there.”

Helena slowly – very slowly – turned her head in the direction Sir Stan was pointing.

And there he was.

Benjamin Ishpern was standing under a pillar draped with elaborate banners.

He held a wine glass in one hand and had probably just been talking to some nobles.

‘Oh ho ho…!’

Helena gasped inwardly.

‘He really is quite handsome…!’

Amidst the grandeur of the ballroom – filled with dazzling colours, light and people dressed in every shade of gown and formal wear – he stood out.

With black curls falling over his forehead and dressed in a deep black velvet suit, he looked extraordinary.

Like a lone black pearl in a jewellery box overflowing with gems.

As their eyes met, Benjamin Ishpern turned towards her and squared his shoulders.

The way he stood reminded her of a black panther lifting its head after lying in wait.

Helena could almost feel the wildness beneath his velvet coat and silk shirt – his physique was undoubtedly strong and lithe like a predator. His skin, pale and smooth, must be as firm and fresh as an unripe wild plum.

‘Now I understand why I could never find a man to marry,’

Helena thought, slapping her forehead inwardly.

‘That man has been hiding in some remote corner of the south all this time, while I’ve been searching the capital like a fool – and of course I haven’t found him.’

Helena smiled languidly at her beast, her unripe wild plum.

When Count Ishpern realised she was smiling at him, his face froze.

And not just his face – as he stood there, wine glass in hand, Count Ishpern became as rigid as if he’d been nailed to the spot.

Seeing him like that, Helena felt a little disappointed.

‘Too easy.’

After a brief moment of stiffness, Count Ishpern put down his wine glass, excused himself from the people around him and walked towards Helena with long, purposeful strides.

Then he whispered in a voice as sweet as chocolate,

“It’s you.”

Helena naturally extended her hand to him.
“Yes. It’s me.”

He lowered his gaze to look at her hand.

There seemed to be no part of him that wasn’t beautiful.

His skin, pale as the finest white marble, was flawless. His eyelashes, thrown down, were jet black and shining. And those lips, red and shining like a ruby, were almost impossibly seductive.

“Aha.”

A beat later, Count Ishpern seemed to understand what she wanted. He took her hand, a deep smile spreading across his face.

When he smiled, his whole appearance changed. The expression softened his delicate features, while the strong, masculine lines of his face stood out even more.

He leaned forward slightly and looked directly at her.

Then, with eyes as red as rubies, he met her gaze and gently brushed his lips against the back of her hand.

Matching his smile, trying not to focus too much on the sensation of his lips, Helena thought—

‘I’m in trouble.’

Just then, new music began to play.