YSGD 3

Chapter 3

‘That last line was a lie… was it obvious?’

Saying something like “please pass along my regards” had honestly just been empty politeness.

Young lady or whatever—forget it!

What I wanted right now was to warm myself by that campfire!

Thanks to the freezing weather that could kill on the spot, my patience had already hit rock bottom.

“…Then we shall take our leave.”

Perhaps they had finally read the room.

After hesitating briefly, the two maids bowed so deeply their faces nearly disappeared, then hurried away.

I closed the thick door and let out a light breath.

With the cutting wind blocked out, the interior was pleasantly warm—and soon my heart felt just as cozy.

‘Yes~ home sweet home and a campfire waiting for me.’

I’ll zone out watching the flames, then go to sleep.

Being possessed into a novel is the best!

Before I knew it, dawn was breaking.

Despite not having slept a wink, the man sat upright with impeccable posture, staring out the window the entire time as the pitch-black sky—dark as his own hair—slowly shifted into a bluish violet, the same color as his eyes.

More precisely, his gaze was fixed beyond the window.

On the detached annex visible some distance away.

In that old, narrow building lived his new bride.

The man—Xenos Celeste—murmured to himself with bitter self-mockery as he sank into thought.

“This is ridiculous.”

Renée Blanche.

No—now Renée Celeste.

She was exactly as he had heard.

No, far more beautiful than he had been told.

As proof of the Blanche Marquisate’s bloodline, her silver hair flowed down in soft waves, looking smoother than the finest silk…

In stark contrast, her blazing red eyes drew attention all the more, standing out against her otherwise gentle features.

Those eyes, as if rubies painstakingly set by a master craftsman, shimmered with a strange moisture.

“…”

Eyes widened in fear.

A barely welcomed extra mouth—arriving in the desolate northern lands atop a cargo wagon even servants avoided.

Her small, fragile frame was impossible to conceal, even beneath a voluminous wedding dress.

Perhaps because her impression was so delicate and frail,

it was hard to believe she had been an adult for quite some time.

“…A foolish woman.”

Trembling about as if she were the tragic heroine of her own drama.

In every way, she was a woman utterly incompatible with him.

He had boarded his carriage first and returned ahead of her with the intention of breaking her spirit from the start—yet Renée’s choice had been something he never could have imagined.

‘A marquis’s daughter riding in a servant’s wagon? And a cargo cart at that? Does she have no pride at all?’

What exactly was she plotting?

The Blanche Marquisate was a prominent house supporting the Second Prince, born of the current Empress.

They stood in direct opposition to the Celeste Grand Duchy, which had supported the Crown Prince born of the late Empress.

Yet there was an even more pressing issue than political rivalry.

‘Ever since taking in the new Empress, His Majesty has clearly lost his sharpness.’

The current Empress, Isabella Rembrandt.

She was not a woman who concealed her ambition.

Not long after ascending to the position of Empress, she bore the Second Prince.

After that, the once-robust Emperor’s health gradually declined.

At some point, he began postponing state affairs, remaining in the Empress’s chambers until late afternoon.

Worse still, the Emperor freely uttered destabilizing remarks such as, “Perhaps the Second Prince should be given a chance,” regarding the Crown Prince’s firmly established position.

How many could truly claim that Isabella had no hand in this?

With the weakened Emperor tucked safely within her skirts, the Empress acted without restraint.

She even joined forces with the Temple—a considerable political power—to solidify both her own position and that of the Second Prince.

Today’s marriage was part of that effort.

‘We carried out the ceremony only because defying the Emperor’s command was impossible… but this is clearly the Empress’s attempt to keep us in check.’

Even setting that aside, the Blanche Marquisate was infamous for its greed, a family that pursued nothing but its own gain.

Just thinking of that loathsome house made his anger surge.

And at the same time, the image of the rabbit-like woman overlapped in his mind.

Red eyes said to bring misfortune.

‘There were even rumors she was the marquis’s illegitimate child…’

Judging by the atmosphere of the Blanche household during the wedding, it seemed those rumors weren’t entirely baseless.

“…Ha.”

Xenos, who had been standing as if nailed to the spot, turned away from the window with an irritated motion.

In aristocratic society, spouses were often less than strangers.

And she was a Blanche, no less.

There would be no affection between them.

He would never allow her close.

Above all, Xenos had a far more urgent problem than Renée.

Knock, knock.

“Your Grace, it’s Karl.”

“Come in.”

With the knock, the head butler—Karl—entered the study, immaculately dressed.

He carried a tray holding several vials of medicine.

“As expected, you’ve been awake all night again.”

“Sleeping is the more painful option.”

“Even so, you must get at least some rest.”

“That medicine doesn’t work, Karl. Just like every medicine in this world.”

Beneath Karl’s monocle, nothing but concern wavered.

Swallowing another rising sigh, Xenos snatched a vial and downed it.

The thick liquid burned both his mouth and his heart as it slid down.

“…There’s no cure for madness.”

A disease that had manifested since his father’s generation.

With no known name, it was simply called madness—yet perhaps no name suited it better.

‘Yes. This might actually be for the best. There will never be a day when that woman and I become a real married couple…’

Xenos intended to end everything with his own generation.

Everything flowing through his blood.

All of it.

One week since I possessed some unknown novel.

“Wow. Sunlight.”

Surprisingly, each day passed peacefully.

Gazing at the sunlight spilling gently through the window, I leisurely sipped my herbal tea.

The small garden, blanketed in winter, was quiet and serene.

In the all-white world, the chirping of mountain birds drifted in from afar.

Snow blossoms resting on conifer branches and long icicles lined beneath the eaves glittered in the sunlight.

Inside the fireplace beside the table where I sat, logs crackled softly as they chased away the cold air.

Setting down my teacup, I smiled in satisfaction.

“Perfect.”

Truly, perfectly pastoral!

This was exactly the back-to-the-land life every city-worn office worker dreamed of at least once!

A kind of leisure I’d never enjoyed in my previous life.

After days of taking it easy, both my body and mind had grown pleasantly sluggish.

But still…

‘Spending a whole week like this is kind of boring…’

Peaceful.

Which was another way of saying there was absolutely nothing to do.

And since I’d been a certified workaholic even in my past life, doing nothing at all felt painfully unfamiliar.

Honestly, waiting inside a rental car for hours to pick up my advisor’s son—who treated me like a personal errand runner—had been more entertaining than this.

“Isn’t there anything to do?”

Stretching as I stood up, I scanned the cabin.

I’d cleaned it up fairly well, but perhaps because no one had lived here for so long, there were still plenty of little things that needed fixing.

Of course, compared to the tiny one-room apartment I’d lived in before, this place was outrageously spacious.

And maybe because I’d worked on it myself, I felt even more attached to it.

Whenever I needed something, Betty—the round-cheeked maid—would appear as if she could read my mind and promptly bring whatever it was.

With so much time on my hands, I spent the past week cleaning and tidying the cabin, and it flew by in no time.

The problem was today.

There was nothing left to clean.

‘It’s winter, so tending the garden would be difficult…’

Still, once spring came, I could spend my days creating a beautiful garden!

Just thinking that I’d be able to live the life I’d always dreamed of next season made me hum unconsciously.

As I walked around the garden, humming to myself, I spotted a small shed in the backyard.

I was just about to decide to spend the day organizing that.

“Oh?”

Next to the shed were some short-cut logs and a neatly placed hand axe.

It was probably for chopping firewood.

“…Should I try it?”

A baseless surge of confidence suddenly rose up.

‘We go through a ridiculous amount of firewood every night.’

I didn’t have many complaints about living here, but maybe this was just the limitation of a medieval setting.

With heating relying entirely on the fireplace, the pile of logs had been shrinking faster than expected.

‘It’d feel awkward asking someone else to do it. And it’s not like I have anything better to do… I’ll just do it myself.’

I acted immediately.

Opening the shed, I picked out the sturdiest-looking log and cheerfully placed it upright on the chopping block.

I already felt proud of myself.

‘Today’s fun content.’

Hahaha! I’ll chop wood all day today.

I took a deep breath and gripped the axe with both hands.

But then…

“Ugh!”

The axe was heavier than I expected, and my body followed its momentum!

My center of gravity shifted, and I flipped over backward like a clumsy somersault.

“Ugh…”

That hurt so much!

My eyes stung with tears.

“Good heavens, Your Ladyship!”

From afar, I saw Betty screaming as she dropped the tray she’d been carrying.