“It’s about to start. Looks like we somehow managed to finish everything in time.”
“Yes, indeed! Everyone worked so hard, didn’t they?”
My wife, Bertia, smiled with deep satisfaction as she gazed out over the scene before us. Seeing that expression, I—Cecil Glo Alphasta, Crown Prince of the Kingdom of Alphasta—couldn’t help but smile as well.
Still, wasn’t our original role supposed to be just helping with and attending the wedding? How on earth did things end up like this?
I let out a faint inward sigh. Even though I’d had a hand in some of the arrangements, I would never have gotten tangled up in something this elaborate if not for my overly enthusiastic wife.
Suppressing a wry chuckle, I found myself looking back on the events that had led us here.
It was only this past spring that I’d managed, through no small amount of effort, to persuade and ultimately marry my fiancée Bertia, who had once insisted she was a “villainess in an otome game” doomed to be humiliated.
Our own wedding, largely shaped by her unique wishes, had turned out rather unconventional, yet it was received with glowing praise from all who attended.
As fate would have it, the guests had included Princess Lysonna of the Kingdom of Umyuve, who quickly became friends with Bertia during the celebration. Impressed by her creativity, she’d later asked Bertia to design and direct her own upcoming wedding ceremony.
Bertia, who treasured her friends dearly and, of course, recognized the diplomatic benefits of such an opportunity, could hardly refuse. And so, we had accepted.
From there, preparations had unfolded at a dizzying pace: designing the bride’s gown, crafting a special sake as a celebratory gift, and overseeing every aesthetic detail to ensure perfection.
Now, we were in the Kingdom of Seahealby, where Princess Lysonna was to wed.
At this point, all that should have remained were the final adjustments to the ceremony plans and a few coordination meetings. We were supposed to enjoy a peaceful stay at the guest villa prepared for us until the wedding day itself.
Shockingly, out of nowhere, my wife had announced that Princess Lysonna was actually the villainess from a novel she had read in her previous life. According to her, if things continued as they were, Lysonna would end up trapped in a cold, loveless marriage with her fiancé, Aleis, the Crown Prince of Seahealby, who also happened to be the king’s younger brother.
In that version of the story, the neglected princess supposedly bottled up years of frustration until, consumed by jealousy toward the blissful Second Prince Izlarich and his fiancée, June, she tried to tear them apart. Eventually, driven to desperation, she went so far as to physically harm June. For that, she was imprisoned for the rest of her life.
To be honest, none of that really mattered to me.
Bertia herself had said that the novel’s events didn’t directly concern us.
Knowing my wife to be kind, softhearted, hopelessly naïve, and utterly incapable of sitting still when someone she cared about was in danger, I should’ve known better than to expect her to quietly ignore it.
She’d declared, with that fearless sparkle in her eyes, “I’ll become the stand-in villainess in her place!”
From then on, as always, she launched one plan—or rather, one spectacularly reckless escapade—after another.
Naturally, I couldn’t just stand by and watch. While she busied herself saving the world in her own chaotic way, I made it my job to observe, gather information, and quietly steer things away from potential disaster whenever possible.
Not that I really needed to. My wife was far too kind to play the villain properly. Every single attempt at “evil” either failed miserably or backfired completely, and before long, even her supposed “target,” June, had grown quite fond of her.
So instead of the peaceful, leisurely visit we’d envisioned, our days had turned into a flurry of chaos and activity.
Then, just when I thought things might settle down, Bertia proposed another idea: to host a tea party before the wedding. Her reasoning? “We should help Princess Lysonna expand her social circle. It’ll strengthen her position after marriage!”
That was only a few days ago.
Now, with only five days left until the royal wedding, the tea party planned by Bertia and Princess Lysonna together was finally set to take place.
Since most of the foreign guests had arrived in Seahealby well in advance to avoid any delays before the ceremony, the timing was perfect. By this point, nearly all the key dignitaries were present, which was, no doubt, exactly why they’d chosen today.
Ordinarily, hosting an event like this so close to the wedding, when preparations should be at their most hectic, would have been utterly impossible. Yet somehow, thanks to the cooperation of the Seahealby Kingdom’s empress dowager and queen consort, the tea party had been made a reality.
In truth, that success owed a little something to my advice as well. I had suggested to Bertia that she and Princess Lysonna seek the empress dowager’s and queen’s assistance. A few days later, Lysonna sent a gracious letter through my wife, thanking me for the idea.
Those memories came to mind just as the time for the tea party finally arrived.
“Everyone, thank you so much for traveling all the way to the Kingdom of Seahealby to attend our wedding,” Lysonna began, her voice poised and elegant. “Though the ceremony itself is still a few days away, at the suggestion of my dear friend, Her Highness, Princess Consort Bertia of Alphasta, we have prepared this small gathering to deepen our friendships before the celebration.”
“My request for an opportunity to speak with everyone more freely,” Bertia continued with a bright smile, “was warmly accepted by Princess Lysonna and the wonderful people of Seahealby. I truly appreciate your kindness. It brings me great joy to have this chance to share time with you all.”
Both women stood side by side before the assembled guests, their smiles as radiant as the sunlight streaming through the grand hall’s arched windows.
Unlike a formal court tea, this one had been arranged hastily as a casual social event, so their opening remarks were kept brief and light.
Prince Aleis and I stood just behind them, serving as their escorts, a role I was more than content to play.
They’re the ones who worked tirelessly to make this happen. The spotlight belongs to them today.
The empress dowager and queen consort sat in their designated places, special seats arranged at opposite sides of the hall, separated by the central table reserved for our group. Their attendants sat nearby, quietly observing as the two royal women exchanged serene smiles, watching Bertia and Lysonna with evident fondness.
Apparently, Bertia and Princess Lysonna had tried to offer them the honor of delivering the opening address. Still, both the empress dowager and queen consort had declined, insisting that the two young women take the lead.
“Then, everyone,” Lysonna concluded gracefully, “though the time may be short, please enjoy yourselves.”