Oh, everyone’s standing up? They’re all getting their food from the buffet and will get up later to chat and dance. The people at the same table as me must be the duke’s parents. They’re well-suited to lavish surroundings. This is actually my first time meeting them... I had better introduce myself to them later!
“...so let us have a toast to pray for the happiness of our lucky couple!” offered His Majesty with a raise of his glass. At last, my long mental escape from reality as I looked around the room—I mean, his much-appreciated address—was over. And then he announced the beginning of the feast.
During the feast, the duke and I went around and introduced ourselves, as was the custom. I could almost feel the ladies’ eyes like daggers piercing me from all directions as I introduced myself with an insincere smile to my peers, superiors, subordinates, and friends from high society until, just like royalty, I politely excused myself. Thankfully, although I was very nervous, I managed to not say, “it is an honor to meet you today, but I have already forgotten your name,” or “I do hope we meet again, but I am confident that I will act as if it is our first time!”
Ugh... it feels like I did a lifetime’s worth of socializing today. I’m not proud of it, but until today I was practically a recluse!
Just when I wondered if all that internal screaming from this forced socializing had finally worn itself out, the duke, still smiling, wrapped his arm around my shoulders, and whispered into my ear. “Are you alright? Have you tired yourself out?”
That’s right, in front of everyone.
Your face is too close, and please stop kissing my ear! You’re being too sappy, it’s embarrassing! But then I realized, Oh, wait... maybe this is the start of a new mission!
I had to be careful. I was once more dangerously close to dying on the spot. Having barely caught on, I played along and pretended to be shy, sweetly answering back, “I do believe I’m fine.”
He smiled back at me fleetingly. So, yeah, I think we were pretty much on track, right?
“Good,” he said with a bright smile I couldn’t hold a candle to.
He’s really laying it on thick. Blargh. But I suppose to everyone else we look like a sugary sweet, lovesick couple. I can’t say that they seem happy for us though, based on how they’re glaring at us. Looking back at this production, I did not have a single bite of that delicious-looking food or dessert. It’s heartbreaking.
Our little show—our two-man comedy routine, if you will—ended that night. That evening was the first time I set foot in the Fisalis family’s house. The duke... well, no, now that he was my husband, it seemed weird to call him “the duke.”
What do I call him? He never said... We were overly familiar, despite being a fake couple. And wouldn’t it be absurd for a young girl like me to call a duke by his first name? So... “dear,” then?...No. That’s just as overly familiar. Rejected. Hmm, “Mr. Fisalis” makes me feel more distant from him, but also feels respectful. Yeah, that’ll work just fine. And then I veered away from the mental anguish that was deciding to call the duke “Mr. Fisalis.”
Anyway, to get back to the story, I had just arrived at the Fisalis house. Mr. Fisalis (formerly known as “the duke”) escorted me into the entrance hall where the servants had lined up to welcome us.
The Fisalis family must be loaded! How many servants do they even have? There are so many! My family only has two, a butler and a maid.
“Welcome home, Sir, Madam!” They bowed with such enthusiasm that they made a swishing noise, which in turn made me really feel the poverty I grew up in. And they called me “Madam!” I was utterly frozen in embarrassment.
But these servants were merely everyday figures in the duke’s life, so he elegantly ignored them, saying to me, “You’ll be living here from now on. I’ll show you around.” He led me by the hand up the stairs to the second floor. I was shown to the most lovely—and also shockingly large—room. Taking in the spaciousness, I looked around. There was a sofa and a table, as well as a desk for writing. The most impressive piece in the room was the bed.
How many people are meant to sleep in that!? It could fit my whole family at least!
It was also draped in a lovely canopy. Mr. Fisalis reflexively dropped my hand and entered the room. I touched my hand nervously.
The room was mostly white and outfitted with every luxury I could need, but at the same time, understated. Poor as I was, I could not begin to imagine how much it all cost, but I could immediately tell that it was high quality. Until then, I had only seen such quality in other people’s houses that I rarely visited, and I felt the need to pinch myself. I was actually just about to when I stopped myself.
Ah, well, this originally was someone else’s house! No sooner had I unsteadily entered the room than Mr. Fisalis looked in from the doorway where he still stood and said, “This is the master bedroom. Please use it as you see fit,” with a strained smile.
The master bedroom, huh? Call it what you want, but since we’re a fake couple, when you say I can use this room however I want, you really mean that I should think of this as my quarters, don’t you? Understanding what he meant, I turned to Mr. Fisalis and nodded.
“Of course. Er, though, where do you stay, Mr. Fisalis?” I wanted to avoid pressing him for details, but not knowing this basic information bothered me.
“I live away from the house, in a cottage at the edge of the garden.”
That is to say, “I certainly don’t live here,” I guess.
This is the first time I’ve called him “Mr. Fisalis” and he doesn’t seem to mind, so I guess I made a good choice.
“Your girlfriend is there, too, then?”
“Yes.”
I see... so this ‘cottage’ is really a loveshack!
...a loveshack! Even saying it to myself makes the room seem colder. No! This is not the time to be playing the straight man!
“I understand. I’ll make sure to keep my distance.”
He said nothing. For some reason, his expression was hard to read, even though I meant what I said.
Did I say something wrong?
“Is something the matter?” I asked.
“No. You just seem so indifferent...”
“Isn’t that what this contract calls for?”
“I suppose you’re right. Well, then, I’ll take my leave.”
“Thank you. Have a good night.” Again, nothing.
After an all-day ceremony like that, I was beat! When I looked at him, Mr. Fisalis nodded quickly, as if to say, ‘meeting adjourned,’ once again with that unreadable look on his face.
After Mr. Fisalis left and I was alone, I sat down on the sofa and stretched. It felt like the first time I’d sat in the calm and quiet all day. Since I’d arrived, it was like the exhaustion had been creeping through my whole body, up from my feet. I really had been exhausted all day. I wore the most expensive dress I’d ever had on in my life, got married for the first time (though I suppose most people’s marriages are their first ones), and went to a wedding in the royal palace for the first time. It was a day full of firsts. And considering everything, it was no surprise that I still wasn’t used to pretending to be in love with Mr. Fisalis. My face must’ve looked rather drawn by the end.
I’m still a rookie actress. I hope I don’t blow my cover.
As I was sprawling out on the sofa, two maids knocked and entered. I stared in amazement as they looked after my every need, and by the time I realized what was happening, I was bathed and dressed for bed, and encouraged to hop right into the silken sheets. The next day would mark my official start as a show bride.
Oh well, I’ll worry about that tomorrow... I decided before I nodded off.