IDLYA 2

chapter 2

Niveia Solen.

There were many ways to describe her.

The only daughter of the Marquis Solen family, and the fiancée of the Duke of Eustache. A blonde with purple eyes, counted among the most beautiful women in the capital.

And… a woman who had never once been loved.

Niveia’s very birth was a tragedy. Her mother, the Marchioness Solen, had originally been nothing more than a maid.

“Why did I give birth to you? Because I needed something to tie your father down.”

Once just a servant of the Solen household, she was now the Marchioness, smiling brightly with rings adorning all ten of her fingers.

She had no interest whatsoever in the child she had carried and given birth to.

From the very beginning, the Marchioness had approached the Marquis with the aim of acquiring his wealth.

She had gotten him drunk, spent a night with him, and when she later revealed her pregnancy, the upright and principled Marquis could not turn her away without damaging his own reputation.

To the Marquis, Niveia was shackles that bound him.

To the Marchioness, she was merely a tool.

Once the woman achieved her goal of becoming the Marchioness, she discarded the child, and the Marquis came to deeply resent Niveia as the cause of his downfall.

Even though none of it was Niveia’s fault.

To her, the world had always felt like winter.

The people of the marquis household looked down on her as the child of a lowborn maid, and her parents were always cold toward her.

Even if she were left alone in the freezing cold, trembling, there was no one who would look back for her.

It was a barren, desolate winter.

So she loved no one, and relied on no one.

After all, winter soil cannot nurture even a single seed.

Living each day like a doll, Niveia eventually became engaged. It was a betrothal arranged between their fathers before she was even born.

Her partner was Valere Eustache of the ducal house.

The beginning of all her tragedy—

and the beginning of her cursed love.

“Where is Valere?”

“He just left for the imperial palace, my lady.”

“Will he be late today?”

Niveia murmured to herself as she walked.

It had been ten years since she became engaged and moved into the Eustache ducal residence, yet she was still addressed as “my lady.”

Even though the former duke and duchess had passed away, and she was practically the mistress of the house, she still held no title bearing the family name.

It was almost laughable.

With a faint smile, Niveia climbed the stairs.

The residence had four floors, but her steps always stopped at the third.

The fourth floor was reserved for members of the Eustache family.

She was still an outsider.

Even after living here for ten years.

“I’ll be resting alone, so don’t come up to the third floor unless I call.”

“Yes, my lady.”

After the maid bowed and left, Niveia closed the door with satisfaction.

She didn’t bother locking it.

Even without saying so, no one in the residence would come looking for her first.

Well—there was one person.

Valere Eustache. The man Niveia loved more than anything.

—

“I would prefer if I never had to face you. You are nothing but dreadful to me.”

—

And the only one who was especially cruel to her.

He was the only one who would deliberately seek her out in this desolate residence just to say harsh things—but today was fine.

‘He said he’d be late today.’

With a faint smile, Niveia approached a drawer as tall as herself.

Opening the second drawer, she found a single sheet of paper placed neatly inside the otherwise empty space.

It was a document of broken engagement.

It required both of their signatures to be complete—yet it bore only one.

Valere’s.

He had thrown it at her years ago, full of contempt.

And she had delayed signing it ever since.

Lightly picking it up, Niveia walked to her desk.

She dipped the pen into ink with a soft plop—almost as if she were enjoying herself.

She was writing the epitaph of a long, worn-out love.

This love had begun long ago.

Not long after she had become engaged and moved into the Eustache residence.

She still remembered that time—when she first felt what it meant to be free from the father who despised her and the mother who tried to use her like a tool.

The people of the ducal house were no different from those of the marquis estate—cold and distant—but she was happy simply because her parents were no longer by her side.

The duke and duchess had been lukewarm at best, and life in the residence was neither especially comfortable nor particularly harsh.

A bland kind of peace.

To young Niveia, that was salvation.

She no longer had to be scolded for walking through the halls.

She didn’t have to endure looks of contempt just for being seen.

It felt as though she could finally breathe.

To her, this simple peace was more precious than anything in the world.

And so, naturally, she couldn’t help but fall in love with the person who had given her that peace.

Think about it.

The snowstorm that had raged around her all her life suddenly calmed overnight—simply because she had become engaged to someone.

How could she not fall in love?

With the person who saved her—dry yet kind, and even handsome.

—

“Be careful, my lady. You might fall.”

—

On the day of their engagement ceremony, when she wore a long, cumbersome dress for the first time,

Valere gently took her hand as she stumbled, unfamiliar with the clothing.

And just like that, before she even realized it, Niveia fell in love.

She had always been starved for love, so her feelings only grew deeper day by day.

It was blind love.

Though she had never loved anyone before and was clumsy in expressing it, she was always sincere.

The problem was that her sincerity was thrown aside again and again.

“Valere, can we talk?”

“Speak. I don’t have much time.”

“Why are you always so cold? Do you even remember that I’m your fiancée?”

“To be precise, you are someone I am engaged to because of our fathers’ agreement. Do I need to elaborate further?”

“That’s what people call a fiancée. Your partner is right here—so why do you keep talking only with others?”

Others. Not just one person.

Who was she jealous of this time?

Even thinking about it made Valere tired. He let out a sigh and named the first person that came to mind.

“Lady Eustace is a kind person.”

“That’s only toward you. There are already rumors that she likes you.”

“I don’t like her, so it’s irrelevant.”

“Then what about Lord Simoren?”

“We’re merely good colleagues.”

“But he’s too familiar with you. I don’t like it.”

“…Do you realize that what you’re doing now is excessive obsession?”

At his sharp rebuke, Niveia immediately wilted.

The intensity she had shown—like she might grab those people by the collar—vanished, and she hesitated, afraid of being disliked by the man she loved.

“I know. But you never tell me anything, so I have no choice but to ask first.”

“You don’t seem to realize that your behavior only makes me lose whatever affection I might have.”

“You show me so little interest… while being kind to everyone else…”

“You’re no different from anyone else.”

If anything, she was just a bit more troublesome.

Valere answered indifferently—deliberately cold.

Yet even then, Niveia’s cheeks and ears flushed bright red, and she pouted as she muttered,

“That’s what I hate. Because I love you. I want to be special.”

If there was one mistake she made, it was this:

She sought special love from someone who loved no one.

And she fell in love with someone who was loved by too many.

Valere Eustache—

he was like a masterpiece created by the gods.

Not only was he strikingly handsome like a sculpture, but he excelled in everything he touched—whether swordsmanship or academics. He had an admirable character and an innate kindness.

Everyone admired him.

As the emperor’s most trusted sword, he was a role model for knights, the object of nobles’ admiration, and the subject of young ladies’ first love.

Valere was equally kind to everyone—

and equally indifferent.

Niveia was no exception.

There was no reason for her to be special to him.

To someone already overflowing with affection like the sea, Niveia’s love was nothing more than a small stream.

And because she hated that, she clung to him even more.

Please look at me. I’m your fiancée. Why can’t I be anything to you?

She spoke of love, and she acted on it.

She only showed jealousy in front of Valere, and after the previous duke and duchess died, it was she who protected the household while he went off to war.

She didn’t even dare hope to be loved—

only that he wouldn’t hate her.

I don’t go against your words. I work for you.

All because I love you.