She pushed the door open carefully, and the light that poured in made her squint for a moment. Unlike the ornate, heavily decorated office, this was a spare room with only what was necessary, and it carried the smell of old paper. In one corner stood a large framed piece, covered with a cloth.

The Marquis of Croud leaned at an angle against the study window.

“You called for me, Father.”

“I did. Sit down for a moment. I have something to tell you.”

Eli hovered awkwardly near the table, which held only a single chair, then sat down.

“This will be the quickest way to explain. Look at this first.”

The marquis handed her a sheaf of papers that looked expensive at a glance. Across the front, in gold-embossed lettering, were the words “Marriage Vow.”

Under imperial law, once a marriage took place, the marriage vow was to be submitted to the Grand Temple for notarization by a priest. In the past, this step was required for a noble marriage to be considered valid.

But as the Grand Temple’s authority waned, the process had shifted from a matter of approval to one of mere registration, and since there was no penalty for failing to register, the marriage vow had come to be regarded simply as a personal oath sworn before the gods, a pledge to fulfill one’s duties and responsibilities.

Still, some nobles, particularly those from families with long histories, continued to treat the marriage vow as a matter of great importance. The Croud marquisate was among them.

Eliana turned through the pages one by one, puzzling over why he had handed this to her, when her hand stilled.

“Father, this…”

On the last page of the marriage vow her father had given her, written in an elaborate hand, was the signature “Tristan Carlisle,” and beneath it, her own name, with a blank line waiting for her signature.

“Two months ago, a marriage proposal came in. The lord of Carlisle, Duke Tristan Carlisle. You may have heard of him.”

“…Pardon?”

Eliana doubted her own ears.

Duke Tristan Carlisle. Even Eliana, who had never once entered society, had occasionally overheard the people at the convent whispering about “that unsettling Duke Carlisle.”

The young lord of the Carlisle family, a house that had been among the founders of the empire but now retained little more than the honor of that legacy, with almost no political influence to speak of.

He was said to be the hidden child who appeared out of nowhere after the previous lord, believed to have no heir, died suddenly and violently. Like the lords before him, he took almost no part in politics or social life, and was known to be consumed entirely by hunting monsters, reportedly drenching himself in their blood every day.

“The ducal house wants things to move quickly. I didn’t expect them to send the vow already filled out like this.”

The Marquis of Croud remained leaning against the window, looking out as he continued.

“It’s sudden, I know, but you’ll need to find a match eventually, so this works out well. The ducal house means you’ll be treated properly. The wedding will be—”

“Fa, Father. One moment, please.”

Eli shot up from her chair and cut the marquis off in a rush. The marquis, who disliked being interrupted, twitched an eyebrow and pulled his gaze from the window to look at her.

Under ordinary circumstances, his manner alone would have been enough to silence her, but right now, his cold expression didn’t register at all.

“So, so you’re saying I’m to marry Duke Carlisle?”

“More precisely, that you are marrying him. I’ve already made the decision. I called you here to inform you of it.”

“I’ve never even met him.”

“I have.”

The marquis’s cold, overbearing tone stopped her short.

“He happened to attend the last Founding Festival, which was unusual. We spoke at length then. Since you interrupted me earlier, I’ll finish what I was saying: the wedding ceremony will be skipped. The duke proposed it first, but it suits us as well. The drought in the south has been severe this year, and it’s poor timing to hold a banquet for the nobility.”

She couldn’t hide her bewilderment as her father went on. She had never set foot in society, had barely left the estate for anything other than convent service, and yet a marriage proposal had come for her. She couldn’t make sense of it.

Just then, a shrill voice drifted in from outside, complaining about mud on a dress. Something flashed through Eliana’s mind.

A family that held the honor of being imperial founders and a ducal title passed down through generations, yet surrounded by ill rumors about its lord. A marquisate with vast lands and a full treasury, yet one that had never once formed a connection with the ducal house.

There was only one conclusion she could reach.

“Is this in place of Cecilia?”

Cecilia, the most cherished person in this estate, who lived in a world entirely apart from her own. Anyone seeking a match with the Croud family would point to Cecilia without a second thought.

Her father had forbidden her from going out since childhood, so most people didn’t even know she existed. And even those who did would naturally choose the marquis’s own blood, raised with care, over an adopted child suspected of being a bastard.

No matter how “unsettling” Duke Carlisle might be, there was no reason he would have proposed to her when Cecilia was right there.

“What did you just ask me? In place of Cecilia?”

The Marquis of Croud narrowed his eyes and repeated it back with an air of disbelief.

“You think I’m selling you off in Cecilia’s place? That I want a duke for a son-in-law?”

The marquis’s blunt question made Eliana bite down on her lip. She wanted to demand what else it could possibly be, but as always, her voice wouldn’t come, and only her hands trembled.

The marquis studied her for a moment, then spoke.

“Believe it or not, this proposal came for you. Every house needs an heir eventually, and the Carlisle ducal house is no exception. And as I said, you’re at the age where you need to find a match. What reason is there to refuse?”

Eli felt the strength drain out of her. The words “find a match” sounded so foreign coming from her father’s mouth.

She had never once received his attention or affection in all the years since she came to the Croud family, and now he spoke of finding her a match. It would have been kinder if he had simply said he could no longer keep her here and had found a family willing to take her off his hands.

“I think I’ve explained enough, so you may go. Sign the vow and give it to Gilbert. You’d do well to start packing. The duke said he’d arrive sometime next week.”

The marquis delivered this like a notice to a girl who had said nothing and was staring at the floor, then sat down at his desk and began leafing through a report.

Eliana felt her vision blur and blur until it went white, and she rushed out of the study.

She was hurrying back to her room before the tears brimming in her eyes could spill over, when she turned the corner of the hallway and walked straight into someone.

It was the owner of the shrill voice she had just heard from the study. Cecilia Croud.

“Hey, watch where you’re going. You almost knocked me over.”

Cecilia twirled a lock of her rich red hair around her finger as she snapped at her. Under normal circumstances Eli would have apologized, but right now she couldn’t get a word out. Despair and anger tangled together and twisted her face, but she couldn’t find the courage to look Cecilia in the eye.

“Ha. Quite a face you’ve got there. Not going to apologize?”

Cecilia stepped closer, about to raise her hand as she always did, when something caught her foot and she stopped.

“What’s this? A marriage vow?”

Cecilia picked up the bundle of papers that had fallen to the floor when they collided and leafed through it with interest.

“So the rumors were true, that a proposal came from that lunatic duke. You’re really getting married?”

She turned through the marriage vow page by page, a mocking smile on her face.

“Ha, what are you going to do now? They say that duke is completely obsessed with slaughtering monsters.”

Eliana said nothing. She only stood with her head bowed, her lips trembling.

“Well, I suppose he suits you perfectly. You can rot away up north hauling monster carcasses. Gloomy, just like you.”

Those words, dripping with contempt, shattered Eliana’s composure entirely. So Cecilia had known about this match all along.

“Did, did you say something to Father?”

Her voice shook in a way that betrayed her, and Eli felt a wave of shame. Cecilia’s face scrunched up, looking genuinely confused.

“What are you talking about? What did I say? About your marriage?”

Right. Because if you send me to that mad duke instead of yourself, you can drive me out of this house. You can make my life miserable until I die.

The words rotted inside Eliana, unspoken. She was afraid of Cecilia’s hand flying toward her cheek the moment she let them out.