"Why...?"
"They're people gathered to welcome Madam."
"Pardon? A welcome?"
Rose echoed back in disbelief.
"Everyone's eyes look a bit..."
"They're just nervous."
"The armor's shining too much..."
"There's oil to spare."
"..."
Whether Rose blinked in surprise or not,
thud.
I took Rose's hand and started walking.
Thud, thud.
The path from the carriage to the door wasn't far. But as we passed the servants lined up on either side, bowing at the waist,
'This is going to be a long road.'
That's what I thought. Amid it all, I could feel Rose's sidelong glances peeking at me.
"Something you want to say?"
"S-Sorry."
As if she hadn't expected me to notice, Rose hurriedly turned her head.
'Even that makes her seem like a wild animal.'
Stealing glances at me, but pretending she hadn't when our eyes met.
From then on, Rose just stared at the ground as she walked. That let me observe her more closely.
'The dress is worn out.'
To exaggerate a bit, it was in worse shape than the head maid's. Not just the shabby fabric, but patches where she'd clearly mended tears and fraying spots herself.
It felt like she'd carefully ironed the cleanest, best-preserved outfit she owned.
'It's our first day of marriage, no less.'
It hit me anew just how badly Viscountess Vicander wanted to be rid of Rose.
She'd sent her to the spot where seven wives had died, without even the bare minimum primping. Like clearing out defective stock.
'A position she'll die in anyway—they couldn't even spare the expense.'
A wry smile tugged at my lips unbidden.
How was this the picture of a villainess stealing her sister's man and squandering the family fortune?
Then again, she probably never imagined I'd come out to greet her personally. Not with all the rumors she'd heard.
'She really gets under my skin.'
I'd planned to leave revenge on the Vicander Family entirely to Rose. But seeing her like that made my hands itch.
I was going to help her anyway, so striking at the Vicanders wouldn't be so bad. It'd even score points with her.
With my thoughts settled, the path ahead cleared up.
That was when it happened.
"Um, Your Grace."
Rose called out to me in a small voice.
"What."
"May I ask one question?"
"You can ask two."
I'd meant it to lighten the awkward air.
"..."
But Rose's expression turned strange.
Shouldn't have bothered.
"What's the question?"
"...Today."
Rose took a breath before continuing.
"Why did you come out here?"
She'd been avoiding my gaze all along, but now she looked straight into my eyes.
Having asked first, her face was tense as she waited for my answer. Her earnest gaze clung to me, searching my eyes for something.
If she was coming at me so sincerely, it'd only be polite to meet her halfway.
"Because you're my wife."
I said it slowly, meeting Rose's eyes.
"Doesn't a husband come out to greet his wife when she arrives?"
My steady tone cracked the composure she'd barely held.
"That's... normal?"
Her voice dripped with disbelief, like something impossible had just happened.
I got it. Even I hadn't imagined myself saying such a thing this morning.
But the situation had changed, and now it was time to accept that.
"Why do you think these people are gathered here? Same reason as me."
"To... welcome me?"
"Yes."
I stopped walking as I finished speaking. We'd reached the wide-open doors of the inner castle.
"Doesn't matter if you don't believe it."
"..."
"Actions speak louder than words, after all. Better to show you."
I released Rose's hand and gave her a nod.
"Dinner time soon. See you in the dining hall."
"The dining hall..."
Rose stared at me, caressing the hand that had just been touching mine, now free.
"Does that mean you'll dine with me tonight?"
"Yes."
"...Why."
That one word carried a world of meaning.
Why eat with me? Why come greet me all the way out here? Why to me... of all people.
The words she couldn't voice faded like illusions. Only someone who knew the past that no longer existed could say them.
"-!"
Rose bit her lip, realizing her slip. But seeing it actually relieved me.
'Definitely the regressor Rose now.'
That let me speak all the more firmly.
"Welcome to Schmaikel Castle, Madam."
Rose's pitifully trembling eyes turned to me. At last, she replied.
"...Thank you, Your Grace."
Her answer fell like a sigh, a storm of emotions swirling within.
And so our first step—our first meeting—ended.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Sand, sand.
The muffled footsteps of the servants.
Clink.
The faint clatter of dishes and plates being set on the table cart.
Those were the only sounds echoing sporadically in the vast dining hall.
It was that quiet. To avoid disturbing my mood as I sat at the table.
But.
'What the hell.'
I was too lost in thought to pay them much mind.
'What went wrong?'
Recalling the orders I'd given Bill earlier.
'Give her a welcome befitting the Schmaikel name.'
'Make sure she knows exactly what family she's joined. Prepare thoroughly.'
No matter how I turned it over, the conclusion was the same.
'I said it perfectly.'
...No. If I'd said it right, this wouldn't have happened. Was it my expression when I spoke? Did I scowl too much?
"Bill."
"Yes, Master."
Bill, who'd been pouring water into my glass nearby, looked up.
"Got a mirror?"
He flinched.
Quickly composing his face, he bowed deeply.
"...Yes, Master."
A servant brought the mirror and handed it to me.
"Here you are."
"Hm."
I took the mirror from Bill and peered into it.
Blue eyes, skin so pale it was nearly translucent. Silver hair like the winter snowfields here.
The hallmarks of the Schmaikel Family. My father had them too, and so did I.
But what stood out most were these eyes—cold to the point of excess. Blue verging on icy.
'Father and I look just alike. Like shards of ice stabbed into the eyes.'
I'd heard that as a child, meeting the king with my father.
'So it was the eyes after all.'
I knew my gaze intimidated others. They said it pierced right through you, like being dissected—terrifying.
Stroke.
I furrowed my brows at the mirror. It was my default expression most days.
"...Hm."
Yeah, speaking like this would make even a simple order sound like a death sentence.
So what now?
'Should I smile?'
-That thought brought another problem.
'How do you smile?'
When was the last time I'd smiled genuinely, from real joy or delight?
So long ago I couldn't remember. Maybe since my parents died.
'Smiling's out.'
Fine, then at least tone down this intimidating glare.
"..."
I tried softening around the eyes, but it didn't seem to help.
Years of armoring myself with a stern face to fend off collateral kin and show no weakness. Old habits don't break in a moment.
This would take time.
'Not easy...'
I handed the mirror back to Butler Bill and asked.
"Tour of the castle done?"
"Yes, Master."
No subject needed—he got it right away. He took the mirror with a bow and continued.
"I showed Madam to the room at the end of the second-floor east corridor. Her luggage and maid went with her."
Time to correct Bill's misconceptions about Rose.
"Did Rose Vicander really look like the rumored villainess to you?"
Bill paused, then asked cautiously.
"May I speak frankly?"
"That's why I'm asking."
Bill studied me closely. Seeing my face utterly calm, he slowly spoke.
"Frankly, the Vicander Family's rudeness exceeded imagination. Did you see the dress Madam wore?"
"I did."
"I've never seen such a shoddy one. To send a bride to the Schmaikels dressed like that—what do they take us for? It's lamentable."
I see.
No wonder I'd noticed, uninterested in women's clothes as I was.
"I told them to dispose of it at once. Too ragged even for rags."
"Rags..."
"Her luggage was just one bag. And only one maid. Should've been at least three."
"The previous wives?"
"Some brought over six maids. Luggage filled two carriages."
Bill shook his head.
"Too modest for the rumored villainess."
"Indeed."
He has eyes; he saw it. So the rumors were wrong...
"That's why it's even more outrageous."
...Huh?
I shut my mouth in confusion.
Oblivious, Bill pressed on gravely.
"Trying to deceive Master, who prepared such a lavish welcome. She thinks you don't know the rumors and puts on this brazen act."
"..."
"Socialite women change masks as needed, but this is beyond the pale."
Did we even see the same person? How could he think it was an act?
...No, he didn't see what I did.
That face, those expressions. The ingrained little habits, the subtle movements.
Only someone close could see it for what it was: utterly pitiable and heartbreaking.
"Bill."
My head throbbed. Because of this stubborn butler's mindset.