Chapter 1

The road of Wickers Street was always bustling. Poplar trees grew densely along the way, but there were more people than trees, and the crowd was full of energy.

The cozy spring air was warm enough for a light jacket, and the pleasant weather drew even more people out onto the streets.

Gentlemen walking briskly, carriages rushing by, children selling flowers and newspapers—amidst all these busy people, there was one woman moving at a notably leisurely pace.

Her skirt fluttered richly as she walked, and the sound of her heels rang out clearly.

With each step, her bright blonde hair shimmered, and her clear green eyes sparkled like crystal in the midday sun.

Her green eyes darted about as if searching for something, and soon she stopped and slowly approached a boy selling newspapers. A round-lined smile appeared on her pale face.

“One newspaper, please.”

“Yes! Thank you!”

As she paid, the boy’s eyes widened in surprise.

“I’ll get your change right away…!”

“You can keep the change.”

“Thank you! Thank you!”

Leaving the boy’s repeated thanks behind, the woman resumed her slow walk. Following Wickers Street to its end, she arrived at the café ‘Echo of Peace’.

She pushed open the heavy green door and entered. The ornate interior was filled with people of all ages and genders chatting away at their tables. The clear sound of dishes and glasses touching echoed throughout.

The woman strode confidently through the café and pushed open another green door, stepping out onto the terrace overlooking the blue river. The waves of the Ronz River, which ran through the capital Tern, shimmered with the breath of spring.

She sat at a familiar corner table, and a café staff member soon approached to greet her.

“Hello.”

“Yes, hello.”

“Would you like your usual drink?”

“Yes. The same as always, please.”

“Alright.”

Once the staff quietly left, she spread out her newspaper on the table. Rapidly scanning the headlines, she turned the pages. Her gentle voice murmured softly.

“‘Grand Opening, the Turner family opens a resort beneath the northern Bilton Mountains.’ A resort for hot springs and skiing? Wow, hot springs, that’s impressive.”

A pure exclamation escaped her lips. While she read, her coffee was served.

“Thank you.”

She greeted the staff, who nodded and left. The black coffee in a gold-rimmed cup released a soft, rich aroma. She took a sip and gazed at the view.

Beyond the café’s iron fence, lush greenery grew, and behind it, the Ronz River sparkled in the sunlight. The fresh sound of leaves meeting the wind, the clear ring of cup and saucer, the peaceful noise—all were pleasant.

She lowered her gaze to the newspaper again.

“‘The Campbell Dukedom holds a charity event….’ Ah, they had a charity bazaar last time.”

She nodded and sipped her coffee. The warm spring sun, fragrant coffee, and a newspaper full of good news—she liked this moment very much.

She turned the page and quickly skimmed the personal ads, when something caught her eye.

“‘Miss Grace Broytton and Mr. Aiden Turner engaged. Wedding to be held in June.’”

Her hand, about to raise the coffee, froze.

“What?”

She set the cup down on the saucer and stared at the newspaper. At that moment, a shadow fell over her, and a thick hand tapped the table.

“Grace! You’re getting married!”

“Ah, Jones….”

“Everyone’s talking about it today! Even if secrecy is important, how could you not tell me? The Turner family are the railway kings! You’re marrying into wealth!”

Jones, now sitting across from Grace, tapped the table excitedly, his bearded face breaking into a big, hearty laugh. In contrast, Grace’s pale face had gone rigid.

“I only found out about my marriage to the railway king today.”

“What? It’s your wedding?”

Jones’s face turned to shock. Grace’s lips twisted into an awkward smile.

“Yeah. I only learned about my own wedding today.”

“How can that be? If it’s in the paper, the marriage contract must be done… and they arranged it without telling you?”

“That impossible thing just happened to me.”

Grace quickly folded the newspaper and downed her coffee in one gulp. Then she pulled a thick envelope from her bag and handed it to Jones.

“Here’s this week’s manuscript. I have to go.”

“You’re not going to have lunch?”

“I’ll eat next time.”

Grace stood up abruptly. The chair scraped loudly, but she didn’t care and hurried away. Jones, still stunned, waved his large hand.

“Congratulations on your wedding, anyway!”

Grace didn’t look back, just waved her hand as she quickly left the terrace.

Congratulations? On this ridiculous marriage? A marriage of convenience with a stranger whose face she’d never even seen?

Grace hurried through the crowded café. As she rushed, she bumped shoulders with a man coming from the opposite direction.

The man barely moved, but Grace was knocked back. She grabbed the wall to steady herself, and the man quickly came over to support her with his large hand. A huge shadow instantly fell over Grace.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine.”

Feeling the uncomfortable closeness, Grace turned her body. As she tried to hurry past, the man caught her arm again.

When she turned, she saw well-shaped brown hair and blue eyes like lapis lazuli. She had to look up to meet his gaze. His chiseled features were directed at Grace with a hint of concern.

“Are you sure you’re alright? You look troubled.”

“I’m really fine. I have something urgent, so I must go.”

Twice blocked from leaving, Grace’s brow furrowed slightly. Ignoring his gaze, she hurried out of the café.

The lively, peaceful street she’d entered now felt crowded and bothersome.

Avoiding oncoming people, Grace turned toward a carriage parked by the roadside. She climbed into a hired cab, which she wouldn’t normally use.

“Where to, Miss?”

“To Broytton Earldom, please.”

“Understood.”

Outside the carriage window, the scenery flashed by. Grace bit her red lips.

Such a sudden marriage of convenience—actually, even the term ‘marriage of convenience’ was generous. The union of the declining Broytton family and the Turner family, known as the railway kings, was more like a sale than a marriage.

The carriage sped up, then stopped, and the driver opened the door.

“We’ve arrived.”

“Thank you.”

Grace got out, paid, and hurried away. The neatly kept garden felt unusually vast today.

The gardener, Wilson, spotted Grace and removed his hat to greet her. He was holding a sickle, his hands dirty from work.

“Miss Grace, you’re busy as ever today.”

“Hello, Wilson.”

“I heard the news. Congratulations on your marriage.”

“Haha, thank you.”

Grace hid her hardened expression and turned away. Even after entering the mansion, the servants continued to offer congratulations.

“Miss Grace, congratulations on your wedding.”

“Thank you, Lisa.”

The splendid mansion sparkled wherever the staff had touched. Passing through the central hall and up the stairs, Grace began to take the steps two at a time in her haste.

“My Lady! You shouldn’t take the stairs two at a time!”

The elderly head maid, May, blocked her path.

“May, I’m just in a hurry.”

“Still, My Lady. You’re about to be married, you shouldn’t run up the stairs.”

“Alright. I’ll go one at a time.”

“It’s hard to believe the young lady who lived so quietly is now getting married. But my congratulations are sincere.”

“Thank you, May. By the way, do you know where Filson is?”

“If you’re looking for Filson, he’s… oh, there he is.”

Following May’s gesture, Grace saw the elderly butler standing at the end of a long corridor. Filson bowed his head when he saw Grace.

“You’re home.”

Grace strode quickly toward him, her brows raised high.

“Filson, you knew, didn’t you?”

“What do you mean?”

Grace closed the distance and handed him the newspaper. Filson adjusted his glasses as he took it, his expression unchanged. His composure only made Grace more annoyed, and her voice rose.

“My marriage! You knew about it!”

“Let’s discuss this somewhere private.”

Only then did Grace notice the servants pretending not to listen all over the corridor. She calmed herself and changed direction.

“Alright. Let’s go to my study.”

Filson followed her as if it were routine. They climbed the stairs again and crossed a long corridor.

On the way to the study, several servants greeted Grace with a nod. If Filson hadn’t been there, she would have received endless wedding congratulations.

Finally, Grace stopped at the red door and turned its gold handle.

Her personal study was lined with books, and sheets of scribbled paper were scattered on the desk and armchair. Filson looked around as he closed the door and spoke quietly.

“If it’s alright with you, Miss, I’ll tidy up your study.”

Grace hurriedly stacked the papers from the armchair onto the desk. The pile teetered precariously.

“This is tidy. Don’t touch it.”

Filson looked around without answering. Papers covered every surface, and even crumpled balls rolled like dust on the floor.

“It’s not trash! Don’t throw it away! Just sit, Filson.”

“I’m fine standing.”

Grace, seated at the desk, stared at Filson.

“There was a very interesting ad in today’s newspaper.”

Filson glanced down at the paper in his hand. His closed lips gave no response.