Chapter 1: A Suffocating Arranged Marriage

Chapter 1

【 A Suffocating Arranged Marriage 】

Long streaks of rain plummeted from a sky choked with layers of gray clouds, each a different shade.

The persistent drizzle had turned the ground into a muddy quagmire, soaking the painstakingly chosen evening shoes and forcing hurried attempts to erect a canopy over the meticulously prepared feast.

“They say rain on an important ceremony day brings abundant blessings,” the maid whispered, carefully lifting the hem of the dress to keep it from getting soaked.

Even a fool could discern that these words were uttered to console the day’s melancholic protagonist. Evening, however, responded with a quiet smile, awaiting the fiancé she had yet to lay eyes upon.

“Ah, everyone has already gathered. My apologies for the delay.”

The man destined to be her husband finally made his appearance only after keeping his fiancée and the distinguished guests waiting for a full thirty minutes.

“I was eager to behold my bride’s face without delay, but this rain made it impossible to ride properly. Such ill fortune, even my engagement ceremony is fraught with trouble.”

“Your Majesty, you must dismount—”

The horse, its hooves caked with mud, advanced until it was mere inches from Evening’s face.

From his elevated perch atop the horse, his eyes, gazing down at the elegantly attired Evening, were as profoundly blue as tranquil, clear waters.

Evening, her head naturally tilted back, found herself unintentionally looking up at him in deference.

“Your Majesty.”

His white hair, shimmering with a luxurious silver sheen, and his eyes, appearing as if painted with the most expensive pigments, immediately captivated her attention.

The word ‘handsome’ felt utterly inadequate, yet ‘beautiful’ failed to capture the rugged strength of his features.

His imposing face, which appeared not to have been softly sculpted but rather meticulously constructed, piece by piece, subtly twitched.

“Evening Flam. My bride.”

‘Bride’—a term of profound intimacy, yet the Emperor’s gaze, as it swept over his fiancée, held not a single scintilla of affection.

The man, releasing the reins, agilely dismounted from the horse’s back. Even amidst the overcast weather, his white hair, imbued with a brilliant silver luminescence, swayed gently.

The moment he dismounted, a ripple of commotion spread through the surroundings.

A relative, who had been attending to the guests, quickly led away the horse, which had begun to wander in front of the officiant’s stand. Meanwhile, a nearby priest hastened to approach the couple.

The priest, impeccably dressed in freshly ironed robes for the engagement ceremony of the Margrave’s daughter—and with the Emperor, no less—cleared his throat and commenced reciting the prepared congratulatory address.

“On this day, so peaceful and blessed, the groom has braved the fierce downpour to greet his bride.”

The rain was, in truth, only slightly heavier than a drizzle, yet exaggeration was an expected flourish at an event honoring such esteemed personages.

“Our illustrious Majesty, Erich Winb, has journeyed to this distant Margraviate to meet his fiancée. Let us offer our applause of comfort and congratulations to today’s protagonist, Lady Evening Flam, who must have been consumed with anxiety for His Majesty’s well-being amidst this rain.”

Amidst the applause, a flower child scurried forward, cradling a voluminous bouquet in their arms.

Receiving the bouquet—a collection of meticulously cultivated garden flowers adorned with ribbons embroidered by the village maidens—Evening found herself facing Erich.

His head, towering at least a hand-span and a half above hers, if measured by a child’s small hand, meticulously scrutinized Evening from head to toe.

“Hmph.”

Pressed by his cold and domineering gaze, Evening cautiously stole a glance at him, her eyes flitting nervously.

Over Erich’s dazzlingly handsome shoulder, her father, the Margrave, shot him a displeased glare.

“We take immense pride that an Empress should emerge from our Margraviate, which has long safeguarded Witherun’s borders—”

“Enough of this tedious talk. Let us proceed to the main event. Surely, I have kept my fiancée and our esteemed guests waiting long enough.” Erich, who had been yawning throughout the congratulatory address, cut him off with a distinct lack of interest. The officiant and the assisting servants visibly flinched in surprise.

“It would also be rude to keep our guests waiting too long in this rain. Wouldn’t you agree, Empress?”

“Pardon?”

“I’m relieved we are in agreement, Empress.”

Erich, letting out a dismissive snort, closed the distance in a single stride and lifted Evening’s chin.

Her chin was easily tilted upwards by his two fingers. Before her surprised lips could even murmur a protest, his hot lips descended, covering hers.

Five minutes had passed since their introduction. The engagement ceremony itself had barely begun three minutes prior.

It was a kiss executed more swiftly than the preparation of instant food, yet it was also a fervent, almost ravenous embrace, utterly unfitting for an engagement ceremony.

His thick tongue delved into her mouth, pressing against hers and sensually grazing the inside of her cheek.

The famished, aggressive kiss steadily bent Evening’s frame backward. Just as her knees began to tremble and her thighs threatened to give way, he encircled her waist with an arm and finally broke the kiss.

The instant their intense kiss ended, a collective gasp rippled through the assembled guests.

Erich, his thumb wiping away the saliva that glistened on Evening’s thoroughly dampened lips, smirked.

“I was already so eager to enjoy some private time with my bride.”

It was an era of barbarity, where honor was staked upon the sword, where blood spilled on the plains was deemed a glorious testament, and where dalliances with numerous women were a source of pride.

Though such a mischievous remark might be expected from a new groom in this barbaric age, not a single smile touched the faces of the guests. And it was not merely because this was an engagement ceremony, rather than a full wedding.

Taking the Margrave’s reluctant, hesitant applause as their cue, a slow, subdued clapping began to spread through the crowd.

“I am pleased that you have all come to celebrate us. To Margrave Flam, a toast!”

Erich Winb, a sneer playing on his lips, pulled Evening so close that the bouquet she clutched pressed against his chest.

It was an engagement ceremony so chilling, it felt suffocating.

****

For the influential figures residing in the Margrave’s territory near the border, their lord was infinitely more accessible, both physically and psychologically, than the distant Emperor.

To them, the Emperor was a remote, almost mythical figure, akin to a king across the seas, someone they might, at best, encounter three times in an entire lifetime.

All that people in such circumstances knew of the Emperor were the street gossip disseminated by peddlers or the reports relayed by nobles who had returned from an audience with him.

According to the tales passed down, the current Emperor, Erich Winb, was said to be a truly chilling individual.

Having ascended to the throne at a young age after countless trials and tribulations, he was rumored to possess a countenance as dazzling as polished gold, yet a temperament so utterly vile that it would be insufferable, even if one were to offer him carts laden with gold and silver.

Judging by his tardiness to the engagement ceremony and his brazen discourtesy before the assembled guests, it seemed his sinister reputation was far from unfounded.

“That must be why His Excellency dislikes His Majesty so much.” The maid, dressed as exquisitely as Evening herself, pouted from behind her. Her gaze darted amongst the guests, settling firmly on Erich, who was freely enjoying drinks, having completely abandoned his fiancée.

Evening turned to her maid, shaking her head briefly.

“Be careful.”

Upon seeing Evening’s wide, concerned eyes, the maid raised a hand to lightly cover her mouth.

Attendants loyal to the Emperor were scattered throughout the party grounds. Some stoically endured the drizzle, making no attempt to seek shelter, while others circulated, attempting to inject some levity into the atmosphere.

The garden teemed with guests attending the engagement ceremony of the Margrave’s daughter, an influential figure within the Empire, making it nearly impossible to distinguish one person from another. Given this, extreme caution with one’s words was paramount, for fear of them being overheard and relayed.

“It’s hardly a pleasant thing for anyone to overhear.”

“I doubt there’s anyone here who isn’t already aware of that fact,” the maid scoffed, adjusting Evening’s dress.

“Indeed…”

‘Indeed,’ she thought. It was precisely why the Emperor had designated her as Empress, and why the atmosphere of the engagement ceremony felt as frigid as a funeral.

The nobles near the border despised Erich, and the Emperor, who was already on poor terms with the aristocracy, had ostentatiously proposed to Evening.

Outwardly, he spun tales of being smitten with Evening, or how the daughter of Margrave Flam was a perfectly suitable match, but the true essence of his actions was a calculated ploy: to hold Evening hostage and thereby manipulate the Margrave.

Margrave Flam and his wife were aware of this truth, as were her family members, and likely even the Emperor’s own entourage. Evening understood that the occasional sympathetic glances cast her way were a testament to this grim reality.

The public sentiment within the territory was so hostile that people audaciously whispered disparaging remarks about the Emperor right there at the engagement ceremony. The stark reality of it now resonated deep within her.

“Even if everyone knows, it’s still unpleasant to hear that someone dislikes you. One should be careful with their words.”

There was, after all, nothing to gain by further displeasing the Emperor. Evening, pausing her conversation, offered a radiant smile to Erich, who had turned to look at her.

Upon seeing Evening, who was smiling as brightly as if she were the happiest person alive, the maid frowned and sighed.

“…Lady Eve, you are truly strong. I don’t think I could smile like that.”

“Really?”

“Not many people could smile so kindly at someone they despise, as you do, Lady Eve.”

To that, Evening replied, “Yes, that’s true,” swallowing a hollow laugh.

Had she been the *real* Evening Flam, forced into an engagement with someone she despised, she too would never have been able to smile.

She might have stood with her weight on one leg and her arms crossed, or brazenly shirked her duties, preparing to be divorced as an unfaithful wife.

The *real* Evening Flam, unable to truly accept her fate, had drunk herself into unconsciousness.

“I want to get along well with His Majesty.”

However, the Evening Flam currently occupying this body—or, more accurately, Lee Nabin, the second daughter of the Lee family from Korea—did not despise the Emperor.

“Even if he’s rough and bold, I’m sure he’s a good person deep down.”

The Lee family had a motto passed down through generations:

[If your superior dislikes you, wag your tail with all your might.]

She had never forgotten this excellent teaching, which was responsible for her family’s livelihood and safety. Moreover, she cherished every single maxim her parents had taught her, never forgetting a one.

[You can’t spit on a smiling face.]

[Gossiping about your boss is only for at home.]

Now, having been transmigrated into a woman who had an arranged marriage with the villain of a romance-fantasy novel.

In this precarious moment, with her safety and dignity hanging by a thread, her fate held in his grasp.

These words were more crucial to her than anything else.

****

A month ago, Lee Nabin woke up in Evening Flam’s body.

By then, all the circumstances had already been set in motion.

Erich, who had viewed Margrave Flam with disdain and suspected his betrayal, had proposed marriage to his daughter, Evening. The Margrave had found no way to refuse the proposal.