Chapter 187

The marriage hadn’t required the Emperor’s approval, and the Imperial couple showed little interest in the newlyweds themselves. The Duke and Duchess had come merely for a formal courtesy visit.

So after exchanging only a few brief words, they completed their official duties at court.

“I heard there was some misunderstanding between you and Adrian. Since it concerns the affairs of high nobility, the rest shall be discussed in the House of Lords.”

With that single statement from the Emperor, Nerys’s long-standing murder accusation was as good as cleared.

The nobles didn’t want to miss this chance to meet the ducal couple. That Duke rarely ever left his own lands, after all—and the new Duchess was an object of endless fascination in many ways.

They saw no harm in striking up a conversation and building connections. As the couple made their way toward the entrance of the hall, people began to subtly gather around them.

But the strict etiquette of the Imperial Court forbade them from speaking recklessly to those of higher rank. How should they approach her? Would they need to faint at her feet to gain her attention?

Just as various ridiculous ideas were about to be put into practice, Nerys stopped walking.

“Oh my.”

Everyone turned, eager to see who would be the first to greet the new Duchess in private within the Imperial Palace.

It wasn’t hard to tell. The one who met the Duchess’s gaze was already one of the most talked-about young ladies in court these days.

“Your Grace.”

With her honey-blonde hair shimmering like silk and sweet violet eyes that gleamed like violets in bloom, Megara Lykeandros bent gracefully and smiled.

Coincidentally, both women bore hair and eye colors regarded as the highest marks of noble beauty in the Bistor Empire. Bright gold hair was a rare trait of pure lineage—but violet eyes were rarer still.

Unlike the Duchess, who was famed from her days at the Academy, everyone here had known Megara since childhood. They’d admired her endlessly—how doll-like she was, how flawlessly noble her features seemed.

But now, standing side by side, Megara somehow seemed… lacking. Her hair appeared closer to common brown, her eyes more blue than violet.

What a pity. The Duchess’s bright platinum-blonde hair was so rare that even the court had few who could compare. The Jeweled Eyes only made her all the more untouchable.

Had it not been for this comparison, Megara would have been seen as an impeccable symbol of “exquisite lineage.” Unfortunately, fate had set her beside the Duchess.

In terms of beauty alone, Megara’s was the more dazzling—truly, the kind found only in dreams. But being younger, she still carried a trace of immaturity and an air of self-satisfaction. She lacked the serene dignity that clung to the Duchess like a royal mantle.

That wasn’t Megara’s fault. It was the Duchess who was the strange one—so unnaturally composed at such a young age.

Yet those who watched couldn’t help feeling their perception of Megara, once seen as a flawless angelic lady, begin to falter.

Megara, sensitive to others’ gazes, felt her mood sour.

This was why she hadn’t wanted to see Nerys today. That Nerys Truydd—how dare she? To marry the Duke and become the Duchess?

Higher even than a marquis’s daughter, higher than a marchioness. And even if, one day, Collin succeeded his brother and became a duke, Megara’s highest possible position would still be that of a duchess’s wife—never a duchess herself.

Of course, to ordinary nobles, that was a world of absolute privilege. But to Megara now, it felt paltry.

Because it meant that for the rest of her life, she would never be able to address Nerys casually. Whenever she saw her, she would have to bow her head and step aside.

After being the first to acknowledge her, Megara waited for a response—but Nerys remained silent for quite a while. Instead, her gaze slid past her, landing on the man standing beside her.

“Sir Ganielo.”

Collin Ganielo—though not yet engaged, he stood at Megara’s side with the confidence of a future husband.

Until recently, he’d been too minor a noble to even warrant attention, and now, being addressed by the Duchess herself seemed to discomfort him. Still, he answered politely,

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“It’s been a while. I hear you’re to be engaged to Lady Megara?”

“Yes. Very soon.”

“Congratulations. It’s a happy thing to find someone who suits you.”

Collin assumed she was boasting—implying that even a woman of humble origin like herself could rise so high by marrying the Duke. He only nodded awkwardly. But Megara’s face stiffened.

So, you mean ‘you’ match the Duke—while ‘I’ match the second son of a duke?

Maybe it was overinterpretation. Yet Megara’s instincts screamed that Nerys had spoken with precisely that condescending intent.

“Thank you.”

Collin’s oblivious gratitude made her want to scream.

As Nerys turned and walked gracefully out of the hall, Megara watched her retreating figure with cold fury.

The Duke had been curt with her before—and he was an inscrutable man besides.

So fine, Nerys could have him. That strange man suited her well enough.

But if Nerys thought Megara would never rise higher than this—then she was gravely mistaken.

❖ ❖ ❖

“Do you think Megara Lykeandros won’t marry Collin Ganielo?”

Having already paid their respects to the Emperor and Empress, their formal obligations as nobles were done. But since they were scheduled to visit the House of Lords, Cledwyn and Nerys hadn’t yet left the palace.

As they walked toward the study where the council’s elder nobles often gathered, Cledwyn asked quietly.

Nerys replied calmly,

“Did I sound like that?”

“Your expression did. As if you thought they didn’t suit each other.”

“You observe my face very closely.”

“It’s my wife’s face. Who else would watch it better than I?”

He smiled faintly.

Spring had crept into the Imperial gardens like a thief. Buds gleamed under the sunlight, shining around his smile like a soft halo.

Feeling embarrassed, Nerys turned her head and spoke coolly.

“Megara’s beautiful, intelligent, and her family’s decent enough. Honestly, marrying Collin is beneath her.”

“She could become a duchess one day.”

“Collin’s brother won’t die that easily. The Duke of Ganielo spends fortunes keeping his son alive.”

“Of course, no one dies easily. But people don’t die only from illness.”

“You think Collin might make a move against his brother? Doubtful. He likes to act clever, but he’s too clumsy. His father raised him that way—to make sure he never dared covet the title.”

Even earlier, Megara had immediately understood Nerys’s tone, while Collin just blinked dumbly, floating on the joy of being engaged to the most beautiful woman in society.

“Amusing analysis,” Cledwyn said, “but I don’t like hearing another man’s name from you.”

Sometimes, he said the most ridiculous things. And when he added a pitiful sigh to them, her chest tightened in frustration. Nerys glared at him.

Thankfully, even after last night, Cledwyn treated her no differently.

“Then what should I call him? Sir Ganielo? That’s confusing—his brother’s also Sir Ganielo.”

“Couldn’t you just say ‘that fellow’?” (T/N: Here goes the jelly petty husband again lol.)

Another teasing smile. Nerys knew that anyone who could change expressions that quickly could never truly be “pitiful,” but once again, she let it slide.

“I’ll do that when it’s clear who I mean.”

“Thank you.”

He caught her hand, kissed her palm playfully, then brushed his cheek against it. There weren’t many people passing by—but not none.

A few elderly maids averted their eyes in embarrassment.

“Don’t do that in public. We’re almost there, so behave.”

“What does it matter if people know I get along with my wife?”

Grumbling, he still released her hand as she wished and instead offered his arm politely.

At the end of the grand corridor stood a wide-open door leading to the study. When a middle-aged man inside noticed Cledwyn, his face brightened slightly.

“Your Grace, Duke Maindulante.”

“Duke Ganielo.”

The older man had likely spoken first to assert some seniority by age, but as a duke himself—and a member of foreign royalty by blood—he could afford that much risk.

Among the Empire’s three ducal houses, alongside Elandria and Grünehals, the Duke of Ganielo held a position of immense influence. Seeing Cledwyn respond cordially, he nodded in satisfaction.

“I heard you had arrived. You’ve just come from meeting Their Majesties?”

“Yes.”

“And this lady must be…”

Though he clearly knew, the duke looked at Nerys as though meeting her for the first time.

“My wife. Duke, this is my wife.”

“A pleasure to meet you.”

How convenient to encounter him here. Nerys bowed gracefully.

The Duke of Ganielo knew quite a lot about her—more than common rumor. His status allowed access to such information. He greeted her with a courteous smile, though his eyes gleamed with shrewdness beneath it.

“It’s an honor to meet you, Your Grace. Is this your first visit to the House of Lords?”

“It is. They say if you don’t have Duke Ganielo’s favor, you won’t even get a biscuit here. I’ll be counting on your kindness.”

Her remark was perfectly judged. The Duke of Ganielo oversaw the finances of the House, after all.

Of course, Cledwyn already knew the structure and key figures of the council, so perhaps he’d coached her—but her tone was flawless: friendly as if addressing an elder relative, yet precisely within the bounds of aristocratic decorum.

Her voice—neither too loud nor too soft—carried the restrained pride of royal upbringing and the refined pronunciation of someone trained from childhood in high society’s etiquette.

This wasn’t something one could fake through a short education. The duke burst into genuine laughter, feeling an unexpected kinship.

“Haha! No matter how poor the House grows, it will always have sweets for the Duchess of Maindulante. Please, come in.”

It was his way of saying that, despite her origins, the House of Lords fully accepted her.

Guided by the duke, Nerys and Cledwyn entered the study.

The old chamber, heavy with dark colors, could barely seat twenty people even with every chair drawn in. Yet if an assassin struck here, the Empire itself would be paralyzed—such was the power gathered in this room.

Outwardly, they seemed like idle middle-aged men chatting lazily—but every one of them belonged to the Empire’s highest tier.

The nobles already present watched with curiosity as the Duchess entered under the Duke of Ganielo’s guidance. But soon, as he had, they sensed from her demeanor the ease of one perfectly at home among the inner circle.

No one mentioned it aloud, but they all knew that the Emperor had referred the Duchess’s alleged crime to their council for review.

And again, without a word spoken, they silently agreed: there was no need to cling to such a baseless charge.

By evening, a formal notice would likely arrive at the ducal estate, declaring her name cleared. Nerys, who had once sat among these very men countless times in her previous life, could already sense it.

Their business was done. As Cledwyn discussed trade prices for Maindulante’s goods with the Duke of Grünehals, Nerys moved to one side of the study.

She began scanning the titles of the books lining the shelves—when, just as she expected, the Duke of Ganielo approached.

“Are you bored, Your Grace?”