0. Another Landmine

‘Out with the dung cart, in with the golden carriage.’

It was a truth universally acknowledged in romance novels: the heroine, tormented early on by a worthless man, eventually trades up for someone wonderful. The suffocating frustration piled up in the beginning existed solely to maximize the catharsis that would come bursting through later.

The moment Ariesha finally broke free from her first fiancé, a scoundrel whose only merit was his family name, she had screamed with relief. It was over. Her golden carriage was surely on its way.

And indeed, her second fiancé seemed to meet every condition she had hoped for.

Raymon Reflect Rivers, born the eldest son of the Rivers marquisate, had become Marquis Rivers after his father’s passing.

He was a man of basic courtesy and quiet composure. Not particularly witty or outgoing, but his reputation was solid, built on a dignified and calm image.

So when Ariesha heard that Raymon had been chosen as her second fiancé, she felt genuine relief.

Right. I sent away one dung cart, and if another one rolled up in its place, my life would just be too cruel.

Finally, a proper man. Nothing left ahead but happiness.

Even if deep feelings were hard to come by when two people barely knew each other, she thought building a stable home through gradual understanding and growing affection wouldn’t be so bad.

But after spending time with him throughout their engagement, it turned out he was an eccentric like no other.

Generally polite and courteous.

Then occasionally so attentive she wondered whether he actually liked her, the kind of warmth a man couldn’t seem to contain.

And then, at other times, he would go rigid and look at her with an expression laced with unease.

After that, as if realizing he had made a mistake, he would make a conscious effort to be kinder the next time.

Composed, then warm, then contemptuous. The swings were far too erratic.

It wasn’t purely a matter of his moods, either. The rumors quietly spreading through social circles were unsettling in their own right.

“Did you see the way Marquis Rivers looks at Lady Ariesha?”

“Yes. He was clearly gazing at her with such adoration, and then his expression just… froze.”

“What on earth does he feel toward his fiancée?”

“Do you think he’s trying to win her favor to get at the Verdía family’s fortune, but his heart isn’t quite in it?”

Right?

It’s not that I’m being oversensitive. This situation really is strange.

Something simmered inside her, but hearing others gossip about her and her fiancé, Ariesha found herself mentally nodding along. See? See?

If he had simply been cold or indifferent from the start, they would at least have looked like an ordinary couple in an arranged marriage.

Instead, his back-and-forth left Ariesha confused and anxious on her end, while doing nothing but feed the curiosity of the pettier nobles around them.

She wasn’t asking for undivided devotion or constant warmth. Whether he was kind or distant, she would have been grateful for nothing more than consistency.

Just pick one…… please.

Walking toward the Rivers residence, Lafelt Manor, Ariesha bit down lightly on the inside of her lip and smiled.

How had she, once widely praised for her grace, ended up like this. Two engagements in, and somewhere along the way she had lost herself. She felt gloomy about it.

The last visit to Lafelt Manor had ended terribly.

She had brought cookies as a gift, hoping to improve things even a little, and he had reacted with a blankness that was almost baffling.

When she reached for his hand, wanting to ask why, Raymon, who had been quiet for a while, flushed red, jolted sharply, and wrenched his hand away. The way he yanked it back so fast looked less like a decision and more like a reflex, the instinct of someone who had touched a flame.

At the time, the Marchioness Dowager of Rivers, who was something like a prospective mother-in-law, had happened to witness it and was furious.

“Raymon, what on earth are you doing! What in the world did I just…… Good heavens! I can’t believe this! Will you not apologize to Miss Ariesha this instant?!”

At those words, her fiancé snapped back to himself and apologized. He said he had been startled without thinking, that he had never meant to pull away.

Then, looking visibly unsettled, he shook his head a couple of times and excused himself, saying he would apologize properly once his thoughts were sorted out.

After he left, the Marchioness Dowager furrowed her elegant brow and soothed Ariesha with an air of genuine bewilderment.

“I truly don’t understand. Raymon clearly had feelings for you, Miss Ariesha…… When the marriage discussion with the Verdía family was underway, Raymon was far more enthusiastic than any of us. I’m not saying this to flatter you. I mean it sincerely.”

Ariesha smiled awkwardly and said she was fine, but inwardly she made a firm resolution: next time, she would absolutely have it out with him directly.

Still, this was her second engagement, not her first, and it came after breaking things off with an actual landmine. It was better to resolve things as amicably as possible.

Ariesha always made a point of dressing carefully when visiting Lafelt Manor, but today she had taken particular care.

She wore her long, gently waved hair down, adorned with a headband trimmed with pale pink pearls.

Her outfit was a soft pink satin dress with lace layered over the shoulders and arms, giving the impression of petals wrapped around her.

Deliberately, unapologetically lovely.

Her closest personal maid, Daina, had said the young miss was always beautiful, but today was something else entirely, so Marquis Rivers would surely stop in his tracks this time.

Ariesha drew a slow, deep breath. Tense, wondering what mood this eccentric would greet her with today.

Stepping into the parlor, she spotted Raymon with a faint smile on his face. Ariesha tilted her head and glanced at the table he was looking over, her lips parting slightly.

Milk tea topped with a crisp caramel layer, iced hibiscus tea with a hint of sparkle, a crepe cake crowned with strawberries and fresh cream.

These were the items Ariesha had particularly loved at the tea café they had visited together on one of their dates.

But how were they here?

Watching her puzzled expression, Raymon spoke in a soft voice, visibly a little tense.

“Do you remember, Miss? These are the items we ordered at the ‘Charlotte Garden’ café. You seemed to enjoy them so much that time…… I went ahead and purchased the recipes so we could serve them here at the marquisate. What do you think?”

……So today he’s being warm.

What exactly is this man’s criteria.

Still, well…… if I’m going to have an uncomfortable conversation anyway, it’s better than starting on a completely dark note.

A hollow laugh rose in her throat, barely suppressed. Ariesha swallowed it down and smiled, soft and sweet. To any stranger watching, it might have looked like a shy, endearing smile.

“Yes, I remember. The milk tea inspired by crème brûlée, wasn’t it. It was so unique, I couldn’t forget it. I’d been wanting to taste it again, and you remembered every detail. Thank you, Marquis.”

Whatever she thought of the man in front of her, the menu itself was genuinely welcome.

Taking her seat, Ariesha tapped the caramelized surface with a teaspoon and let a piece break away, taking it into her mouth along with the soft foam. The moment the sweet shard of sugar and fragrant tea touched her tongue, the edge of her irritation eased slightly. Sugar really did help when her mood was low. She was savoring the tea with an involuntary smile when a forkful of crepe cake, carefully rolled, drifted quietly toward her lips. Looking up from beneath her lowered lashes, she found Raymon pulling the fork back with an embarrassed expression.

You know it’s ridiculous too. Good. That might make this easier.

Ariesha let the corner of her mouth lift in a deliberately awkward smile and opened the conversation.

“I must have made you uncomfortable last time, Marquis. I didn’t expect you to be that startled and pull away like that…… I should apologize for grabbing your hand without warning. I’m sorry for the imposition.”