“I liked him. And I pitied him. …He was more unhappy than me.”

“Miss… that’s not true.”

Jo shut her mouth, looking more hurt than Arinne, and stopped pestering her.

Jo felt her heart sink as she listened to Arinne’s resolve. She could understand why she’d made this decision, but the determination still frightened her.

“…….”

Silence filled the carriage. Arinne reminisced fleetingly alongside the stillness.

‘Noah Blaine…….’

The second son of Viscount Blaine, he was the first person Arinne ever loved.

Though the time they’d spent together was absurdly short, those moments with him were the most radiant in her life.

That’s why Arinne didn’t want to blame Noah for giving her such a time.

A beautiful person with deep red hair like fully colored maple leaves in late autumn, and golden eyes yellow like ginkgo leaves. Someone who resembled brilliant autumn. That was Noah Blaine.

When he folded his gentle eyes into a smile, he sparkled like he alone possessed all the light in the world, making it seem like she was looking at something entirely different that had never existed before.

In her memories, he had a youthful appearance with boyish charm, but by now he’d probably look like a complete young man.

Strangely enough, she wasn’t curious about that appearance now…….

‘If marriage is an attempt at happiness, I should support him. I want him to be happy. Somewhere I can’t see.’

Because if he were somewhere visible, she’d definitely want to kill him.

When Arinne thought about him living and sparkling with someone else right before her eyes, her insides twisted from imagination alone.

If he really married another woman, she might want to deny all the feelings she’d had for him. Even so, Arinne sincerely wished for his happiness.

That contradictory emotion tormented her.

‘Right. It’s fine to tell him not to be happy in front of me. I’m not saying don’t be happy at all.’

Noah Blaine had crossed the ocean to climb higher, and now he was even getting married.

‘What have I done?’

Arinne recalled the past time. What had she done during that time? Nothing at all.

She’d anticipated his letters not knowing when they’d come, and despite that, couldn’t even send replies, living sprawled out like a corpse in a luxurious castle.

So she wanted to struggle. She wanted to try something. Only then would this feeling be resolved.

It wasn’t a feeling that would be resolved by cursing him out or wishing misfortune would wait for him at every turn.

This was something that could only end by seeing results one way or another. It was a childish feeling.

‘There’s nothing I can’t do.’

She didn’t know how far this impulsive decision would go. There was no certainty that doing it would make it right. It was just struggling.

Still, she didn’t want Noah Blaine to be happy alone. She didn’t want to see that sight.

“Isn’t this a hasty decision?”

Jo broke the silence and spoke up.

Thanks to that, Arinne escaped from the gap in her confused emotions.

“……If you marry out of anger, will you be happy, Miss?”

Jo lowered herself and sat in front of Arinne, preciously holding both her hands.

Arinne silently looked into Jo’s eyes for a moment. Worried eyes and warm hands. Clearly affection.

“I might not be happy.”

Slipping her hands out of Jo’s grasp, she rolled her eyes once for no reason before meeting her gaze again.

“But that’s the same as now.”

“Miss…….”

Arinne sometimes wanted to run away. It wasn’t because life was hard or boring. She was used to loneliness, emptiness, sadness, or anger.

What made Arinne uncomfortable without immunity was someone’s sincere affection.

When someone said they loved her, that feeling seemed false, and when someone worried about her, discomfort made her stomach churn.

Perhaps Noah had left because he was disgusted by this side of her too. Even knowing that couldn’t be true, Arinne sometimes felt like everything was her fault.

“Noah’s marriage is a catalyst, that’s true. But I’m not getting married just because of that.”

Her voice was dry.

“Then…?”

“First, sit properly.”

Arinne raised Jo, who had crouched on the carriage floor, and seated her properly before continuing.

“It’s not like I’m going to kill Father or Luke and become the Duke, so how long should I live leeching off the family?”

Jo’s mouth fell open in shock at the shocking statement.

“Miss! Don’t say such terrifying things so casually!”

When Jo raised her voice cheerfully, regaining her usual atmosphere, Arinne finally smiled comfortably.

“Besides Josephine, you’re the only one who talks to me like this.”

Arinne tapped the carriage window with her fingertip and spoke in a low voice.

“You’re my person before you’re a person of the ducal house, right?”

“Of course. I’m always your person.”

Jo declared boldly. Her warm eyes resembled the person Arinne had relied on and followed most.

“Right. You’re my person.”

Jo’s loyalty was beyond doubt. Jo followed her around like a duckling that had imprinted on Arinne as its mother.

Yet she found herself ridiculous for occasionally trying to confirm it.

People who don’t receive affection fully still want confirmation. It was a contradiction.

“I’ll go wherever you tell me to go and do whatever you tell me to do! Even if you tell me to go to h*ll!”

Jo clenched both fists and shouted boldly. It was an absurd trick.

“What h*ll.”

Can’t even talk. What skill lets you go to h*ll when you get scared at just the mention of sewing your mouth shut?

“I-I’m! A coward but brave!!”

Really…….

Conscious of the doubtful gaze, Jo pouted her lips in frustration.

“By the way, do you have someone in mind? You can’t marry just anyone. Most young lords your age are already married…….”

“Mm.”

Arinne paused for a moment.

“I haven’t thought about it seriously.”

“I thought so.”

“…….”

“……I’m sorry.”

Jo, who immediately closed her mouth, rolled her eyes.

“Do you want to know who?”

Jo swallowed noticeably. She leaned her upper body toward Arinne with a rather grave face.

“Please. I can’t stand it anymore. Tell me quickly.”

“Mm. Well, you see.”

Arinne deliberately paused longer. It was to tease Jo, who had no patience, as punishment for not controlling her mouth.

“He’s not the kind of person you’re thinking of.”

Arinne whispered secretively, playing along with Jo’s cute reaction.

“Are you… serious?”

“Yeah.”

Jo clasped her own hands together and repeatedly exclaimed “Oh my goodness.”

Even people who knew nothing of worldly affairs tended to know big news.

Like how a duke’s daughter who’d just come to the capital grabbed another young lady’s hair, or grabbed a viscount old enough to be her father by the collar.

“If he’s not better looking than Luke, I won’t marry him. There’s no need to meet anyone inferior to him.”

“That standard’s too high……. Oh, no! Of course your standards should be high, Miss. Who are you, after all!!”

“No. I wanted to say I set my standards low.”

“I don’t think so?”

The Young Duke’s beauty is definitely number one among the men I’ve seen. Jo erased all traces of laughter and seriously raised her thumb.

Arinne couldn’t help but grimace for a moment. Brushing off the goosebumps, she soon spoke nonchalantly.

“Anyway, I heard he’s handsome.”

“…….”

“If he’s handsome, he’s qualified to be a husband.”

“You’re not just curious because he’s handsome, are you?”

“That too.”

“…….”

Jo was speechless at the absurdly simple reason. But when she chewed it over, there was oddly persuasive power in her words.

Duke Marcedea, famous as a handsome middle-aged man, was her father, and her brother, Young Duke Luke, was a handsome young man who was the spitting image of the Duke.

Arinne herself was a beauty who inherited the ducal house’s symbolic purple eyes and golden hair.

Though the pigment was light and the turbidity high, so it was closer to gray-purple than purple, and closer to wheat than gold.

Jo considered it fortunate that she’d deviated slightly from the ducal house’s symbols.

Her young lady never wanted to resemble anyone from the ducal house.

Her bright wheat-colored hair, like well-melted gold with a few drops of brown dye mixed in, scattered warmly and brilliantly in autumn, so Jo hoped she would always be somewhere the wind blew.

“I knew it. I can’t send you to someone whose appearance I don’t even know…!”

Jo buried her face in both hands. They say a servant’s virtue is following their master’s will, but as someone who thought of Arinne like her only remaining blood relative in the world, Jo had no choice but to stop her.

“I know you do what you set out to do, Miss, and that you don’t care about others’ opinions. I also know my words won’t sway you. But still, I…….”

Even knowing she wasn’t someone who’d easily bend her will just because Jo stopped her, Jo wanted to stop her.

What worried Jo most wasn’t that the groom candidate she’d pointed out was the protagonist of a scandal that shook the Empire, but rather that he was a widower who already had two heirs.

They say something scarier than divorce is bereavement.

“What if he can’t forget his late wife?”

“I don’t care if he can’t forget her. I don’t want to love him anyway.”

“B-but he has children too!”

“That makes it better. I don’t have to do any unnecessary coupling.”

“Oh my goodness.”

Oh my goodness. Oh my goodness!

Dear God.

Jo raised her head to look at the sky with her hands clasped together. All that entered her vision was the carriage ceiling anyway.

“Stop making a fuss.”

Arinne looked at the anguished Jo with disbelief.

“If you get any louder, I’ll either leave you here or sew your mouth shut.”

“N-no!”

Jo hastily covered her mouth and sent a desperate look.

It wasn’t like she was going to her death, and whether she’d marry or not was uncertain in the first place. Nothing was decided.

“Jo, think about it later.”

Arinne wiped away the tears forming at the corners of Jo’s eyes and spoke in a much softer, gentler voice.

“Save your worries for after I become a marchioness.”

“Aaah, Miss!”

Jo cried out.