Chapter: 267
I found myself in a dilemma. I couldn’t quite decide whether it was right to call him Marcilio or Beatrix.
Considering the nobles’ mentalities, the peace in high society, and Marcilio’s reputation, the former would be the proper choice. But when I thought about Marcilio’s happiness and our pre-marriage relationship, the latter felt more appropriate. Whichever I chose, a backlash was guaranteed. It was an utterly complicated situation.
“Aga?”
‘Ah.’
Only after hearing Marcilio’s voice did I realize my blunder. He spoke first, and I didn’t respond? Regardless of social status, that was just plain rude.
On top of that, a hint of anxiety clouded Marcilio’s eyes as he processed my neglect. It was subtle, barely noticeable at first glance, but the very fact that he’d felt anxiety was concerning.
If I’d called him “Marcilio” right after acknowledging him, it would have been fine. At least then, folks might think I was holding back due to all the eyes on us. But to hesitate to that extent, only to rigidly default to a title—it was likely to hurt Marcilio’s feelings.
Specifically, thoughts like, ‘Do they not want to flaunt their relationship in front of others?’ would likely be his inner turmoil.
‘Very likely.’
I pondered those possibilities, knowing I couldn’t let my guard down. After all, Marcilio had a history of his self-esteem hitting rock bottom due to that potion incident. I had to be as delicate as peeling a koukda from its wrapping paper.
“Yes, I’ve been well. Beatrix.”
I answered with a smile, albeit belatedly. It was my last semblance of reasoning to address him formally.
Utilizing his actual name provided some leeway for excuses. It would be bizarre to call him “Your Grace” after exchanging rings; conversely, using informal language would be just as ludicrous, especially since I wasn’t too long out of the countryside.
This formality seemed just right—using his real name but still extending respect. It was crucial to keep the decorum when so many eyes were on us. This way, Marcilio and the nobles could comfortably accept it.
—At least, that was what I thought.
“Th-Thank goodness, right?”
As soon as I addressed him by name, Marcilio’s fleeting anxiety vanished in an instant, flapping his ears like a startled bird. His face flushed with shyness, like a woman infatuated.
Wait, why was he reacting like that? I hadn’t even used informal language—just called him by his name. Was it somehow heavier than speaking casually?
“……”
On the side, I could almost feel the Iron Duke’s silent shock, as if the ground had been ripped out from under him. He seemed too stunned to even muster a laugh or gasp.
Naturally, the other nobles were similarly affected. The social buzz surrounding us faded, and an unusual stillness filled the air.
‘Damn.’
I miscalculated. I thought calling him by his name would just be shocking but acceptable. Instead, it seemed like utter taboo to the nobles, an unspoken zone of sanctity—like saying “Voldemort” without knowing the implications of magic.
Then again, perhaps that’s only natural. For them, he was a living history, a Duke who had reigned for a century, serving various emperors. Addressing someone of his stature by name was likely beyond their comprehension.
I messed it up big time. If calling him by his name shocked them, what would happen if I slipped and used informal language? Forget what Marcilio would feel—an entire battalion of nobles might just faint from the shock.
“…It seems you two share a special bond; I find myself excited just watching. Congratulations in advance on your engagement, Your Grace.”
Amidst the collective stupor, one noble finally broke the silence. In the midst of chaos, the noble instinct for social interaction kicked in.
“Indeed. I had concerns regarding the challenges faced by Your Grace and the Executive Manager, but they seem to have been unfounded.”
“The differences in their heritages won’t be trifling matters. Nonetheless, having overcome such obstacles, the bond must be even stronger, no?”
Once someone took the lead to speak up, others quickly joined in.
What began as some politically forced smiles turned into a medley of congratulatory remarks and flattery. Despite all their thoughts likely circling around the name “Beatrix,” no one dared to mention it. They’d all reached an unspoken agreement to gloss over that.
And still, I averted my gaze from Marcilio, who was flapping like a panicked fish. It was as if staring too long might summon his demise.
“Beatrix. I’m off to greet other esteemed ladies. Would you care to join me?”
In that bizarre, awkward atmosphere, I cautiously made an offer. If this situation dragged on, it’d only build up a black mark in Marcilio’s history, and the nobles might just resort to claiming, “My eyesight has suddenly failed!”
“Yes, let’s go together. When else will we get a chance like this?”
The Iron Duke, who had maintained silence until now, supported my suggestion. Although a hint of confusion still lingered in his expression, his mouth carried on functioning like a well-oiled machine.
Since Margherita was set to have the same husband as Marcilio, the Iron Duke couldn’t afford to keep his distance. If they couldn’t break that tie, it’d be better to be seen as family rather than drawn-out tensions among nobles.
“Sounds good. I want to greet others too.”
Fortunately, Marcilio nodded without objection.
Great, being among family was easier than drawing outrageous attention from nobles.
But when I say “easier,” that merely meant avoiding the worst-case scenario. It wouldn’t be considered the best option at all. More like the least painful method, perhaps.
“There are many people I’m meeting for the first time. It’s nice to see everyone.”
Thus, that social gathering, embroiled with aristocratic tension, fell into a collective silence as the in-laws engaged in a rare, polite exchange.
Marcilio rarely stepped out of the Magic Tower, only gracing us with his presence at New Year ceremonies, and even then, he’d face away right after. Many among them likely wouldn’t have laid eyes on him in years.
Just being able to see such a rare species would make someone’s heart race, but now he was speaking to us formally? It wouldn’t be strange for someone to burst into tears at the absurdity of it.
“Your Grace. Please, feel free to speak.”
Recognizing the gravity of the situation, Count Flanbel managed a sound remark, but—
“How could I be so informal with my family?”
Marcilio’s gentle smile only flustered the crowd further.
Technically speaking, you could consider them family in a broader sense. But wouldn’t that be odd, given they were all much older? It felt like a license to treat each other casually shouldn’t be an issue.
Of course, no one had the guts to tell Marcilio he was the eldest here.
“Ah, you must be Louise.”
Breaking the awkward silence was Marcilio. He approached Louise, who looked understandably overwhelmed, and spoke softly.
“Yes, yes! I am Louise Naiard from the Naiard Baron family!”
Naturally, no one could comfortably respond to a duke addressing them warmly. Even if Louise was close to royalty and had a friendly rapport with a future champion of the Empire, that was strange waters to navigate.
Regardless, Marcilio gently caressed Louise’s cheek.
“You’ve grown beautifully. I was worried the last time I saw you—you seemed rather downcast.”
His words once again sent the crowd into a frenzy. Although they were meeting for the first time, Marcilio’s statement hinted they were kindred spirits. It felt like an encounter from ages past.
Especially with Louise’s parents visibly reacting with shock. How must they feel, knowing their only daughter had connected with a duke somehow? A whirl of thoughts must’ve hit them, bewildering them completely.
“Excuse me, Your Grace. Forgive my boldness, but have we met before…?”
As for Louise, though, her composure wasn’t intact either. She was probably racking her brain, trying to recall if she once glimpsed him from afar.
Unfortunately, that was meaningless. Yes, she might have somewhat known him, but she hadn’t seen his true form.
“Of course we have. While this is my first appearance in this form, we have met before.”
As he spoke, Marcilio’s long hair began to shorten, transforming from pure white to a clean blue. The pointed ears, a hallmark of his elven ancestry, morphed into something plain.
Louise’s eyes widened at the astonishing transformation.
“Y-You’re my teacher…?”
“Indeed, yes. It warms my heart to see my student after nine long years.”
Gently ruffling Louise’s hair, Marcilio shot me a sly grin.
‘You really didn’t have to do that.’
This sudden reveal of our student-teacher relationship was puzzling, but I could guess his motives, leading me to bow my head slightly in gratitude.
Honestly, among those with whom I shared rings, Louise’s status was the weakest. It’s needless to say, Margherita and Marcilio stood quite high. The first manager was allied with a marquis, and even Irina was a daughter from the mighty Yuris house.
In stark contrast, Louise was simply the daughter of a baron. Though she was bound to inherit, her lineage was far removed from power, a mere provincial lord. Yet suddenly, it turned out she was Marcilio’s only student? It felt like we’d wandered into an otaku’s dream scenario.
“It’s an amusing twist of fate that both teacher and student have fallen for the same man.”
With those unexpected words, I had to lower my eyes.
Hearing that made me feel like some crazy playboy.
*
I’m exhausted. My father has sneakily handed off some titles at the year’s end, and now I’m commanded to hold the New Year’s gathering. I can endure passing off tasks, but it would’ve been nice to have a heads-up.
Still, I can withstand it. A scene so lively unfolds before me.
“I think a grand event is underway in the Empire soon.”
At that remark, all the counts’ gazes turned toward where I was looking.
“Indeed. Given that the Executive Manager has so many suitors, it’s indeed a grand occasion.”
“Haha, I never imagined the legend of the Gold Duke would surface again.”
As the counts realized the dynamics at play, they offered light-hearted jests. Such trivialities felt more enjoyable than I’d expected.
In the past, I wouldn’t have found this amusing. Seeing the Executive Manager preside over group weddings and all this talk about first wives—it truly felt maddening back then. But thankfully, I pulled my head together. It’s a relief to feel embarrassed about those past comments.
All thanks to the Minister of Finance for sharing that crucial info. Truly, a loyal minister indeed.
“Count, shouldn’t you join in too?”
As feelings of warmth filled me, I redirected my attention to Count Tailglehen.
As my father had stepped out, counts from all around approached me. Among them, Count Tailglehen sat close by.
“No, Your Highness, it’s the New Year gathering, isn’t it?”
He shook his head calmly, declining my suggestion. He had a reasonable excuse for delaying our meeting until another time.
Yet somehow, I sensed a strong determination in his expression to avoid that gathering altogether.
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