A captivating scent of roses drifted from her cheek.

Giselle was, by all accounts, a beautiful and enchanting woman. Objectively, that was true.

But to Shed, her long eyelashes and quiet breaths were nothing but a nuisance.

He turned his head away indifferently, dodging her as she moved closer. At that, she hesitated, her eyes narrowing.

“You’re supposed to do your duty. All of it.”

Her neatly manicured fingers grasped his strong jaw, turning his face to hers.

Shed’s brow furrowed, but Giselle paid no mind and pressed her lips to his.

The touch of her lips was unbearably bitter. Shed pushed her away, breaking the kiss.

“Giselle Marlhein, Deputy High Priestess.”

His voice was icy as he called her name.

His fiancée stared at him stubbornly, showing none of the softness you’d expect from a woman who’d just kissed him. Just as he did, she looked back at him with cold eyes.

Shed thought back to when he’d agreed to this engagement with this formidable woman.

His foster father, Duke Josef Lester, had been eager to support and arrange a marriage with Giselle. After all, Shed—being from Lupus—needed a proper background.

And Giselle Marlhein was as ideal a match as one could hope for.

But Shed hadn’t cared either way. Louise Ideana was dead. Time in the world continued to pass pointlessly, and somehow, he was still breathing.

Shed mused to himself: ‘It’d be pathetic to live alone forever, hung up on a woman who’s already dead.’

He ridiculed himself. Maybe this engagement was just another kind of revenge for her.

He didn’t wish for anything. He didn’t hate anything. So he signed the engagement papers, as if he were writing someone’s eulogy.

Had there been any other name next to his on that certificate, he would have signed just as willingly.

Whether the name beside his was Giselle or Dietrich—it simply didn’t matter.

He didn’t even care why Giselle Marlhein, with all her suitors, had chosen him.

But now, here he was, finding his fiancée more and more irritating.

“Can’t you drop that stiff title already?”

Giselle shot him an exasperated look. Even in private, her fiancé always called her by that formal, rigid address. It was suffocating.

“Take your pick—Giselle, or my beloved fiancée. Which do you prefer?”

It was a contest of wills.

This was Giselle Marlhein—proud and mighty—trying with all her strength to get the upper hand over Shed Lester.

And Shed? He simply couldn’t understand why she was so obsessed with him.

“Answer me.”

Giselle’s brilliant golden eyes fixed on him.

“…Deputy High Priestess Giselle Marlhein, I think you should leave now. You must be tired after such a long journey.”

He pronounced her name with a dry, unyielding tone. His enunciation was perfectly refined and precise—yet held no warmth or respect. On his tongue, her name was a warning: he would not tolerate any more of her audacity.

“Shed Lester.”

“Go.”

Shed turned his back on Giselle, ignoring the way she glared daggers at him. But behind him, her proud voice rang out—clear and sharp.

“I came here to get married.”

At that, Shed stopped in his tracks.

“That’s my second reason for coming all this way.”

When he turned, he saw Giselle gazing straight at him, her long lashes lifted.

“We’ve been engaged for too long, haven’t we? We’re not getting any younger. It’s time we got married.”

Both families were waiting for this engagement to finally bear fruit.

“It’s only been put off because you keep running off to get into fights, isn’t it?”

At the word fights, Shed’s brow furrowed, but Giselle paid it no mind.

For years after they became engaged, Shed was constantly away at war. Once the fighting had stopped, he either hunted monsters or dealt with bandits and pirates. He threw himself into every dangerous situation that others would never dare approach. Being away for months at a time was normal for him.

Giselle had always resented this aspect of his character. As his fiancée, she spent those years anxiously awaiting his return, dreading the news that he had been killed.

Even if she didn’t love him, a fiancée was still a fiancée. By vow, their fates were already tied together.

“I don’t want to keep dragging out this uncertain relationship any longer.”

“…”

“So, when do you think we should get married? The sooner, the better, if you ask me. Though… I’d rather not hold the ceremony out here in this remote backwater…”

“Giselle Marlhein.”

At last, the word ‘Deputy High Priestess’ dropped from Shed’s lips.

Giselle finally smiled, satisfied, lifting her brows in triumph.

“What is it, fiancé?”

“This isn’t the sort of conversation we should be having the moment you arrive. Rest first—we can talk later.”

He turned and strode away, making it clear he wasn’t going to listen any longer. But Giselle hurried to catch up, stepping in front of him and holding out a gloved hand.

When Shed narrowed his eyes at her, her brows furrowed again, this time with a fiercer edge.

“Aren’t you going to escort me?”

He pressed his throbbing temple, struggling to contain his frustration. He didn’t want to waste any more time. If humouring her was the fastest way to achieve his goal, then so be it.

With a short sigh, he took her hand.

As his foster father had rigorously taught him, he offered Giselle his arm and led her along properly, as a nobleman should. It was a thoroughly bothersome ordeal.

“Slow down.”

Giselle tugged on his arm as he hurried, slowing him down. He felt as though he were a dog being trained by its master. His brow creased in irritation, but Giselle paid him no mind. Only when he matched his stride to hers did she move forward, looking clearly satisfied.

As they descended to the lower floor, he caught sight of Eclace and Liana standing in the central hall. The dull monotony of his steps came to an abrupt halt.

“Lord Lester?”

Giselle looked at him, surprised by his sudden stop. At the same moment, both Liana and Eclace, who were standing in the hall, turned their eyes toward the pair.

In that long, empty space, Shed’s gaze met Liana’s.

🌺⟡───⟡🌺 🌺⟡───⟡🌺

“Has the Deputy High Priestess gone up to her room?”

Liana, waiting in the hall, asked Eclace.

“She went up with Lord Lester. I’m sure they have a lot to discuss. It’s been months since she’s seen her fiancé, after all.”

Eclace cast a glance at the long staircase leading to the second floor as he answered.

‘Fiancée…’

Liana nodded calmly.

Yes—Shed had a fiancée.

The entire empire knew the name: Deputy High Priestess Giselle Marlhein. Beautiful, capable, blessed with an impeccable family and background—everyone considered her the ideal bride.

Liana thought back to the girl from the Marlhein family she’d met as a child. When Luise was about ten, the Marlheins had come to visit for Count Felix Ideana’s birthday. That day, Giselle—who was about the same age as Luise—visited this very house.

Gifted with divine power from birth, Giselle was already destined for the monastery. She was healthy, energetic, and friendly by nature. She radiated an energy that made people want to love her. Even the maids who spent their days caring for the sickly, frail Luise smiled when they saw Giselle running and laughing through the garden.

To Luise, who could barely go outside and spent her days listlessly perched on the bed, Giselle had been an object of envy. Even the way she got dirty playing in the dirt, or chased beetles and let them fly around the room, had looked fun.

“Come visit Marlhein sometime!”

Giselle had said, sitting beside Luise on a bench.

Of course, Luise had never once stepped outside the lands of Ideana in her life, but she had nodded anyway.

Luise remembered thinking Giselle’s hair—clear blue like the sky—was so beautiful. Next to it, even her own blonde hair seemed dull and lifeless, like a tangled spider’s web.

She always felt that being beside Giselle would somehow give her strength, as if Giselle could summon a cheerful breeze wherever she went.

A girl with not a single flaw.

And now, that girl was his fiancée.

Liana looked down at herself in her maid’s uniform and gave a bitter smile.

‘It was nothing but heat. That was all.’

She felt ashamed and filthy, thinking of how she’d once been swept away by her emotions.

Just then, Eclace’s voice pulled her from her thoughts.

“With Deputy High Priestess Giselle Marlhein here, it’s only a matter of time before the heretic is caught. When it comes to divine power, there’s no one who can surpass her. She’ll be a great asset to Ideana.”

“Ah, that’s… a relief.”

Liana nodded, but before she could say more, the sound of footsteps interrupted them.

Both of them looked up at the same time.

A man and woman were coming down the stairs. Liana took in the sight of them—so perfectly matched, as if their union had been ordained by the heavens themselves.

Giselle Marlhein looked even more beautiful and elegant than she remembered, her arm linked with Shed’s. The simple white Deputy High Priestess’s robes she wore looked almost like a wedding dress.

Liana gazed at them quietly, taking in the scene.

She’d expected it to hurt terribly to see the two of them together. But strangely, her heart was calm—almost peaceful—as she watched.

Over the past week, ever since deciding to accept Eclace’s help, she had started preparing herself to leave this place. She’d spent those days tidying up her feelings, one by one.

The presence of his fiancée—and her own estrus—had forced her to face reality. Gone were her illusions, and she finally woke up from that mirage.

Little by little, Liana had learned to confront her circumstances with a clear mind.

Her once-thundering heart and the ache in her chest now felt distant, like the tolling of a bell in some far-off tower. Perhaps it was the result of emptying herself out, again and again—finally, a scab seemed to have settled over her wounds.

“Miss Liana. Let’s go inside.”

As the two descended the stairs, Eclace quietly gestured for her to leave.

Liana nodded, realising that this was not the place for her.

To anyone watching, it might have seemed as if she were running from Shed, but in truth, it was Giselle who unsettled her. If Giselle ever sensed her black magic, it would be disastrous.

Liana quietly stepped back, slipping away.

But then—

“Where do you think you’re going?”

A cold voice rang out through the hall.