📝This work is a work of fiction set in Europe during the Belle Époque, drawing inspiration from real countries and historical and social elements. The characters, major place names, events, and certain institutions have been fictionalized and may differ from their historical counterparts.

Prologue

In May of the year she turned twenty, Delphinite Boursard was preparing to get married in a church.

Before the ceremony began, she examined her reflection in a mirror in the sacristy.

“Are you really going through with this marriage?”

Her friend Tina’s question was serious. Her aunt, seated some distance away, could only heave a deep sigh.

“I’ve put on a wedding dress for it, haven’t I?”

Delphi answered with utmost seriousness, and her aunt flew into a temper, as though she had been waiting for just that response.

“Do you know what people are saying about you?”

“Nothing flattering, I imagine, Aunt?”

“They’re sneering that France has produced a remarkable new demimondaine.”

“A demimondaine… A high-class courtesan. That should make excellent publicity for my business.”

Insufferable people. They treated judging and belittling other people’s lives through their own prejudices and warped convictions as a form of entertainment.

“Still, isn’t a ninety-two-year-old husband a bit much?”

Tina shook her head as she looked at Delphi.

Her friend Delphinite Boursard was renowned for her beauty in the Sixteenth Arrondissement, if not the whole of Paris. Her extraordinary, rose-colored hair shone as though spun from sunlight, and her finely balanced features possessed a curious allure, combining nobility and humility.

Even now, whenever Delphi moved, the men loitering in the corridor outside the sacristy peered through the gap in the door.

“Dr. Montesquieu is a wonderful man. Someone like me could scarcely dream of aspiring to someone of his standing.”

“People think you’re marrying him for his enormous fortune.”

They were entitled to think so. In fact, they were not entirely wrong. Practical calculations had certainly played a part.

Just then, her aunt Pauline intervened.

“Do you love that doctor… No, that old man, as a man? And does he say he loves you as a woman?”

“I respect him. And he respects and cherishes me, too.”

All kinds of marriages existed in the world. There was certainly no law forbidding people from marrying simply because their love was not intense or because they were of significantly different ages.

For Delphi, marriage offered the prospect of a different life. Her goal was to pursue her chosen career without living in poverty.

“Fine, go ahead. How many years can that old man have left, anyway? And you said he has no family to inherit his fortune? I ought to be happy my niece is going to be rich.”

Pauline folded her arms, turned away, and wiped away her tears.

Seeing her cry hurt Delphi, but comforting her now would achieve nothing. She knew that all too well, so she did nothing.

Her aunt had raised her as her own daughter. Of course it upset her to see her niece entering into such an absurd marriage. She might even blame herself, wondering if Delphi’s decision was a result of not having enough growing up.

“Delphi, we’re still going ahead with our business after you’re married, aren’t we?”

“Of course. The doctor has promised his full support.”

“Is that why you’re marrying him? To get Dr. Montesquieu’s support?”

“…If it means I can succeed, I’m willing to put even my own body on the line.”

This was the Belle Époque. Despite its splendor and prosperity, it remained difficult for a woman to run a business. She needed financial backing and the right connections. Rather than spending decades gathering grains of sand to build a sandcastle, she wanted to make a bold investment and build a magnificent castle.

In this respect, marrying Dr. Montesquieu had more advantages than disadvantages.

So long as she did not cling to romantic love and desire, that is.

“True enough. If you have a pretty face, you become some nobleman’s mistress. If you can’t even manage that, chances are you’ll end up packaging cigarettes in a factory for a pittance.”

Tina laughed awkwardly, but there was something else she really wanted to know.

How had Dr. Montesquieu, a man who rarely let anyone get close to him, come to the decision to marry Delphi?

After all, marrying a Delphinite was bound to invite gossip. Yet to suggest that a young woman had aroused his desire…

‘He’s far too old.’

Of course, Delphi had offered a brief explanation before the wedding.

“Isn’t that Montesquieu fellow terribly stubborn? How did you get him to open up to you?”

“I took away the pain he’d carried in his heart for years.”

But Tina still had no idea what that meant. So she set her curiosity aside and decided to trust the judgment of her ever-capable, levelheaded friend.

“Delphi, the ceremony is about to begin. Let’s go into the church.”

“All right.”

Tina lowered the bridal veil over Delphi’s face.

***

Sunlight streamed through the stained-glass windows beneath the soaring, vaulted ceiling, casting red and blue pools on the floor below.

The deep, majestic notes of the pipe organ echoed down from above.

There was something unsettling about this wedding.

The groom was a ninety-two-year-old scholar revered as a living chronicle of French psychiatry. His bride was a beautiful young woman who had just turned twenty.

Some guests watched with curiosity. Others could scarcely conceal their disbelief.

Noblemen in black suits and ladies in elaborate gowns sat quietly in the pews.

The heavy church doors creaked open, letting in a flood of light.

Delphi’s pure white silk dress caught the sunlight and shimmered like rippling water. Her long veil and lace hem trailed softly over the white carpet.

She held the handles of a wheelchair with both hands.

Seated before her was Dr Albert de Montesquieu. His snow-white hair lent his pale, still features the quiet solemnity of a figure in an old portrait as the sunlight fell upon them.

Without a word, Delphi began to push him down the aisle.

The faint rumble of the metal wheels echoed through the hushed church. No one seemed to dare breathe deeply.

Hidden behind their fans, the ladies started to whisper.

“Is that girl Delphinite Boursard?”

“Anyone can see she’s marrying him for his fortune.”

“It seems even the venerable Dr. Montesquieu, the pride of France, is powerless against a man’s desires.”

The candles nestled among the white floral arrangements flickered unsteadily.

Their light fell equally on Delphi’s pale, rose-colored hair and Dr Montesquieu’s snow-white head.

It was a curious sight: youth beside decrepitude; the brilliance of life beside its decline.

Upon reaching the altar, Delphi took her place on the bride’s side.

The bishop had just finished the prayers and hymns when the church doors burst open and a group of men dressed in black entered the sanctuary with its flowers and white carpet.

“Stop the wedding!”

At the police officer’s shout, the gentle music ceased.

Everyone turned in alarm toward the unexpected intruders.

Delphi was just as startled.

A stranger was walking straight toward her, his gaze fixed on her alone.

“Isn’t that… the Director-General of the Special Investigations Bureau?”

“Yes. He distinguished himself at a young age and rose rapidly through the ranks.”

“What is he doing here…?”

Murmurs rippled through the congregation.

His black uniform was so meticulously tailored and imposing that it resembled military dress.

Silver epaulettes sat firmly on his shoulders, and the heavy skirts of his long, gold-embroidered coat swayed with every step.

A ceremonial saber hung at his waist. Medals of merit and a silver chain gleamed coldly against his chest.

Buttoned neatly to the throat, the uniform was austere to an almost suffocating degree, yet it only accentuated his powerful young physique.

Pale skin. Cool eyes that seemed capable of seeing into a person’s deepest thoughts. Tall and broad, he radiated an authority as arresting as his striking looks.

Behind him, police officers in black uniforms, pistols at their waists, filed into position on either side.

Their boots sounded low against the marble floor as they moved with rigid precision. Even they seemed like mere shadows in his presence.

As he drew closer, Delphi could scarcely breathe.

“Delphinite Boursard, you are under immediate arrest for fraud under the pretense of marriage.”

“What? What do you mean…? Marriage—what?”

The accusation was so absurd that Delphi swept the veil back from her face.

For a fleeting instant, as their eyes met, the Director-General’s gaze seemed to waver. As though he had encountered someone he had not seen in a very long time.

Yet Delphi was certain she had never seen this man before.

“It’s been a long time, Delphinite Boursard.”

His eyes churned as though caught in a violent storm, but his voice remained perfectly calm.

“I believe this is the first time we’ve met.”

“No. We were once very close. That is precisely why I’m having you arrested for fraud under the pretense of marriage.”

“What?”

His words were so shocking that she was beyond bewildered. Her mind reeled.

“Arrest her.”

The faint smile vanished from the Director-General’s face, leaving it cold and stern.

At his command, the officers rushed forward and snapped handcuffs around Delphi’s wrists. Her aunt and Tina tried to intervene, but their efforts only added to the chaos.

The Director-General walked slowly over to Dr. Montesquieu’s wheelchair and greeted him with a courteous bow.

“This marriage cannot take place.”

“How impertinent.”

“Be that as it may, I cannot allow it. Delphinite Boursard promised to marry another man long ago.”

The doctor regarded him for a moment.

There was neither anger nor bewilderment in his eyes, only the deep, quiet gaze of someone who had lived a very long life.

“And are you that man?”

The Director-General did not answer.

Instead, he returned to Delphi and stopped before her, lowering his head until his face was close to hers.

“Try to remember who I am.”