“What’s the matter? Why are you crying?” mother had asked as I read a novel on a sofa in our family’s library.
It was only then that I realized my mother was right next to me.
“I was merely touched by the book I’m reading,” I said, wiping away my tears with a handkerchief.
“What’s it about?” she asked.
“Mary Anto and Lance Axel.”
“Oh, so a tragic love story?”
“No, it’s not tragic. The reason I was moved to tears is because I was expecting it to end in tragedy but it didn’t.”
Historically speaking, while Lance had gone to war, Mary had lost her life during a conflict in the royal court. But the story I’d been reading had a different ending. In this, Lance had learned that Mary was set to be executed under suspicion of conspiracy and he recklessly led a charge into the enemy in order to end the war and get back home as soon as possible. By some miracle, he was able to return home and rescue Mary, all while pushing through the heavy injuries he’d sustained. It was such a wonderful tale of love that it had unexpectedly made me cry. How wonderful it must be to be loved this deeply by a man.
“You like alternate history stories, huh?” mother asked.
“I prefer gentle fairy tales to harsh reality. Why don’t you sit with me?” I offered so we could continue speaking.
I asked a servant to bring tea and began pleasantly chatting with my mother on the library sofa.
Sometime during our casual chat, mother brought up the main reason she’d come. “We have a new potential suitor we’d like you to meet.”
“Oh...another one?”
“Yes. Another one. We want you to get married and be happy,” she said.
I don’t think I’ll achieve happiness through marriage, mother. I’d long since earned the displeasure of men for my hideous appearance. I doubted marriage would change that. I doubted that living with a man who was repulsed by me would end in either of us being happy.
“Are you planning on breaking things off again, Ana?” mother asked. “It’s fine if you end things because you don’t like him in the end, but I’d at least like you to meet him.”
“Ana” was a nickname of mine. My full name was Anastasia Sevensworth, and I was the daughter and only child of the premier duke.
“I know you and father worked hard to put this marriage talk together, so I will meet with him. However, I truly think it’d be better if you adopted someone to be the house’s successor rather than finding someone willing to marry me.”
For someone marrying into our household, the authority that my parents would hold over my potential fiancé would be great. Considering their social standing, he’d have a difficult time being unfaithful. However, that would only be true while my parents were alive.
As time passed and they grew older, at a certain point, the power dynamics between my potential husband and parents would switch. When they did, if my potential husband cheated and created a scandal by having an illegitimate child, it would cause problems for our entire household. That was why, if things were inevitably going to turn out that way, I felt it’d be better for my parents to adopt a successor instead.
“It’ll be all right. After enough time together, love is sure to blossom. After all, you’re such a sweet girl!”
I could tell that these words from my mother were purely to console me.
From a young age, I’d always been surrounded by marriage. All the people around me were married, and all the picture books I’d read had ended with the prince and the heroine marrying each other. So naturally, I’d had the vague assumption that I’d get married too when I was an adult. I didn’t believe that anymore, though.
When marriage talks entered the part where I was left alone with my potential groom, I’d ask them if they truly wished to have these talks with me. They’d always graciously answer me with their harsh, unfiltered thoughts.
“Do you think I want to be having these marriage talks with you? Of course not! As if there were any guy in this world who’d want a monster like you as their wife!”
“As if looking at you weren’t enough, the fact that I’d have to touch you only brings me pain.”
“If I ever brought you to a party, everyone would look at me with pity. They’d talk about how pitiful a man I was for marrying the ‘Goblin Maiden.’ Do you seriously believe I want to go through that miserable experience?!”
From their perspectives, they’d only participated in these marriage talks because they hadn’t had a choice, and they’d hoped that it’d just naturally fall apart. Up until now, that was how it had always been with no exceptions. None of my suitors had truly wished to marry me, so I’d made sure that all the talks had fallen through so as to prevent a potential scandal of an illegitimate child. Despite how it may have looked, I was thinking about the good of our household in my own way.
Life is cruel. Marriage is a happiness that I’m not destined to have. It can’t be helped. This is just how my life is. I’d whisper that to my heart. I’d convince myself to give up, and it would make things a little more bearable.
“The next suitor you’ll be meeting is the same age as you—sixteen. From what I’ve seen from the report, at least, he seems to be much more handsome than the other men you’ve met until now. The women around him seem to secretly call him the ‘Black Ice Flower Prince.’ His merchant company even has its own fan club.”
The black ice flower was a type of rare plant that only grew in frigid climates. Both its stem and leaves were black, and it produced exceptionally beautiful flowers that were a light purple and see-through, like ice. It was used just like roses often were to refer to someone being attractive.
According to my mother, my potential suitor started the Rurban Trading Company when he’d been around ten years old and had been running it ever since. His company had a location in the royal capital as well, so I was familiar with it. He dealt in many types of uncommon items such as guitars and yo-yos, and I’d even purchased some of them. It was a fairly large company, so it’d never occurred to me that its founder could be someone my age.
After hearing about him from my mother, I was absolutely convinced that these marriage talks would not succeed. In addition to being excellent enough to pass my parents’ inspection, he was so handsome that those around him yearned for him. It was completely possible that he was looking for someone beautiful to be his spouse. There was no chance that he’d want to marry someone hideous like myself.
“For these marriage talks, we’re going directly to their house to speak with them. It’ll take a few days, so make sure to pack properly,” mother said.
When I pressed her a little further, I found out that it was father’s idea to go there in order to show our house’s sincerity about this marriage proposal. I couldn’t believe it. A duke going this far for a viscount was essentially coercion. But even excluding that, my suitor was no doubt going to be very discontented with my appearance just like all those before him, and now, he was going to be even more discontented after essentially being coerced into this meeting by the power of my father.
There isn’t a doubt in my mind. These marriage talks aren’t going to work out either. I’m sure that when I ask him for his true thoughts, he will be fairly combative. I’m already beginning to feel melancholic.