Chapter 6: The Obligation of a Political Marriage

Chapter 6

Erich opened the door without waiting for Evening, who was barely dressed, to fully attire herself. He slipped out the door as Evening let out a shrill scream.

Left alone in the spacious room, Evening stopped trying to cover herself with the blanket and let the tension drain from her shoulders.

A sigh escaped her lips without her even meaning to.

‘…This is difficult.’

A bitter feeling settled in the pit of her stomach.

It was strange how the lips that had whispered words of affection, however fleeting, had grown so cold the moment they shared a bed.

While she wasn’t foolish enough to believe he would fall madly in love with her after one night, she had assumed, given his haste, that he at least felt some lust.

After all, he had been aroused without foreplay and had thrust longer than she expected. The bruises he’d left on her chest and shoulders were still vividly, almost grotesquely, clear.

Yet, despite all that, his eyes still regarded her with a bitter disdain, as if she were an adversary.

What, then, had last night truly been?

As she pondered, the answer came to her sooner than expected.

It was because of their political marriage.

Just as Margrave Flam’s family and her ladies-in-waiting had repeatedly told her, she and Erich had entered into this engagement fully aware that their union would serve as a political maneuver.

She recalled reading in a book that in ancient times, powerful families would appoint observers to confirm the consummation of a marriage on the wedding night, to attest to the legitimacy of the union.

The notion of ‘political’ as a calculating union, and thus avoiding loveless coitus, was a modern concept.

In this era, a political marriage was neither an act nor a disguise.

Even if it was forged for political and economic purposes, it didn’t diminish the meaning of the marriage.

On the contrary, precisely because it was such a marriage, a more definitive symbol of their union was required.

For the people here, a political marriage was an unbreakable, unyielding, and crucial promise, a commitment from which one must not retreat. To validate this promise, the wedding night had to be consummated.

“It was the same in the original story, wasn’t it…?”

Recalling the fragments of the original story that came to mind, even the male and female protagonists had consummated their marriage early on, precisely because it was a political union.

‘The argument that a political marriage didn’t necessitate consummation’ was doomed to fail before it even began.

For them, the wedding night, a requirement of political marriage, was neither coercion, nor a sorrowful event, nor even an expression of lust.

It was simply common sense.

Just as one naturally attends school, avoids running into traffic because it’s dangerous, and strives to do their best even when assigned an undesirable task after getting a job.

Last night’s events had merely fulfilled one obligation between those bound by political alliance. There had been no room for love or desire to intervene from the very beginning.

‘So this is how things will continue to be.’

A cold marital life, devoid of any space for love from the outset, with no need for it, and thus, no intention of ever changing.

Furthermore, despite being bound by marriage, the political antagonism with Margrave Flam remained unchanged.

If she fled, execution awaited her; if she pressed on, a cold, dark married life, shrouded in gloom, lay ahead.

‘Truly…’

As Evening once again mulled over her predicament, her head naturally tilted towards the sky.

‘It might be worth a shot?’

She was, after all, an optimistic person.

****

The engagement banquet of the Margrave’s family, attended by numerous guests, extended for two days. While some guests from the previous day reappeared, more than half were new arrivals.

Erich surveyed their faces and playfully clicked his tongue.

“It seems we have many guests from Ailbarne today, don’t we?”

A Margrave is a ruler of a border province, established at the empire’s edge to guard against foreign invasion.

This meant their territory bordered more than one nation.

The nation bordering the Flam March of the Witherne Empire was Ailbarne.

Ailbarne, a powerful nation comparable to Witherne, had long been Witherne’s persistent adversary. Only a few decades prior, the Flam March had fiercely battled Ailbarne.

And now, distinguished guests from Ailbarne were swarming the Margrave Flam’s banquet.

Margrave Flam, considerably older than Erich, wore a benevolent smile.

“You have a keen eye, Your Majesty. Indeed, many distinguished individuals from Ailbarne have graced us with their presence. It is, after all, my daughter’s glorious engagement as the future empress; I could hardly not invite them.”

Why had he intentionally invited them to the engagement banquet?

The reason was glaringly obvious to everyone: to the Ailbarne nobles attending the banquet, to the coachmen who accompanied them, and even to the dog Evening’s brother kept.

Margrave Flam’s ulterior motive, to keep his own emperor in check, was as transparent as a clear spring.

Erich scoffed, looking down at Margrave Flam with undisguised contempt.

“It’s commendable that you maintain good relations with foreign dignitaries. Even if it was two generations ago, having fought a great war must have made it difficult.”

“It has been several decades, Your Majesty. We have maintained amicable relations since my predecessor’s time. While minor disputes occasionally arise among residents, those are issues that occur anywhere.”

It was a subtle warning: that he could, at any moment, cast aside old grudges, betray Witherne, and switch allegiance to Ailbarne.

Any March, being a strategic borderland, and connected to other nations, was susceptible to betrayal.

Of course, it was less about a genuine desire to betray, and more about a veiled threat to cherish his daughter, given the strategic importance of his territory.

‘Please.’

If the Margrave’s intentions were sincere, Evening’s life would be ruined. Standing beside the Emperor, Evening fervently hoped her prediction was correct.

“If the Empress’s family is secure, then we can rest easy as well. After all, the March is quite a distance from the capital.”

Erich was, in effect, sending a warning: “I have your daughter, so don’t even think about colluding with Ailbarne.”

The engagement banquet, which should have been a joyous occasion for all, had become a brutal stage for a war of nerves.

Such an overt power struggle was rarely seen.

“Haha, I’m so delighted that everyone has come to celebrate my engagement~!”

Unable to endure the awkward and uncomfortable atmosphere, Evening clapped her hands, drawing everyone’s attention.

However, she only managed to capture their attention for a fleeting moment.

The Emperor and the Margrave spared Evening precisely one second, before resuming their verbal sparring with smiling faces.

“Since you are so pleased, I pray you become Empress safely. While it is an honor for such an opportunity to come to you, as a father, I also feel a sense of worry.”

“Oh, Father, really.”

Bringing up Erich’s past engagements at this juncture felt utterly unnecessary.

For Evening, who had heard what had become of his two previous engagements, her stomach churned with anxiety.

“Indeed. You can hardly avoid becoming Empress now. It would be a pity for such a cherished daughter to enter a convent so soon, wouldn’t it?”

Wasn’t there a rule that if a high-ranking husband died early in the marriage, his widow had to enter a convent?

As the insinuation that they had already consummated their union was made, sparks flew between the Margrave and Erich.

“Evening is so affectionate towards me! I worry I might become so engrossed with her that I neglect all affairs of state.”

He spoke words devoid of genuine affection, while pulling Evening close by her waist.

To only show affection when he wanted to gain the upper hand—he truly was a man both transparent and twisted.

“If you appoint excellent vassals, there’s no need for Your Majesty to trouble yourself directly with state affairs. How could we allow such trivial matters to bother Your Majesty? You may entrust such duties to your loyal subjects and amuse yourself with my daughter.”

Margrave Flam made it abundantly clear that it would be best for someone like Erich not to meddle in national affairs.

Evening remembered a description in the original story that Erich’s policies were not well-received. Even the protagonists disliked his governance. Erich’s anti-aristocratic and heavily controlling policies had provoked fierce opposition from the nobility.

“Spend my days nestled in the Empress’s embrace, you say? Not a bad idea. Indulging in pleasure might not be so terrible after all.”

Erich, having uttered words he didn’t mean, walked a few steps before thrusting his wine glass at a servant. The servant deftly tilted the bottle, filling his glass.

“I’ve been speaking too much with the Margrave. Let’s celebrate the engagement with our esteemed guests. A toast to the third engagement.”

Erich deliberately brought up his past of having replaced two fiancées as he raised his glass.

Without waiting for the guests to raise theirs, he drank the wine without hesitation.

“…Cough.”

A pained cry escaped Erich’s throat.

Pale as if stabbed with a knife, Erich made a dying sound, unable to utter a single word.

“…!”

The glass slipped from his stiff fingertips, shattering on the floor.

A silent scream echoed from his parted lips.

“Your Majesty!”

“Lord Erich!”

At the moment the urgent shouts of the guards overlapped with Evening’s voice, Erich’s legs gave out, and he collapsed forward.

The Emperor fell with a dull thud in the middle of the banquet hall.

Evening, utterly distraught, knelt beside Erich, who was stained with a red liquid that could have been blood or wine.

“E-E-Erich, oh.”

Sometimes, when faced with a sight far beyond expectation, one’s thoughts simply cease. This was true for the servant who had filled the Emperor’s glass, and it was true for Evening, who faced her fiancé’s death.

“Your Majesty! Are you alright?!”

The frantic voices of the Imperial Guard, and the seemingly distant, piercing screams of the guests, tormented Evening.

His image—turning deathly pale, then coughing up blood and slowly collapsing—was etched into her mind like a nightmare, robbing her of her voice.

“H-His breath…”

No matter how much she felt his heart and throat, she couldn’t find a pulse.

Erich was dead. The man with whom she had shared intimacy and skin just last night had become a cold corpse before Evening’s very eyes.

“Lord Erich!”

At that instant, Erich’s eyes snapped open.

“Ack!”

Evening, who had been kneeling, tumbled backward, landing on her bottom.

The sight of the man, his mouth full of blood and red wine, suddenly opening his eyes was several times more chilling than when he had collapsed and died.

“E-Erich—”

“Bitter.”

Erich, his eyes wide and menacing, slowly rose. He spat out the remaining wine and blood from his mouth with a feigned smile.

The bloodied Emperor grinned wryly.

“This taste is not fit for a human. I thought my throat was burning. …Ah, my apologies. I’ve made a mess of the banquet.”

His movements were flawlessly elegant, as if his earlier collapse and vomiting of blood had been a lie.

He stuck out his blood-stained tongue, speaking with casual mockery.

“There’s no need to worry. I merely died for a moment and came back to life.”

He had undeniably died. She had clearly seen his breath cease instantly from the poison. Yet, he had revived, his face even cleaner than before.

Evening, utterly bewildered, stared blankly up at Erich.

She had known this fact, but experiencing it firsthand was as shocking as if the world had turned upside down.

The reason Erich Winb was a tyrant and a villain, the reason the nobles found him so chilling, and the reason Evening could not escape him, all converged into one truth.

Erich Winb does not die. He possesses the magic of resurrection from death.