The Flower of the Betrothal Tournament: The Unveiling (2)
Why.
Why, of all times.
Why now, of all moments.
On this very day—when she was finally to lift the veil that had covered her for decades—why, at this critical hour just before the long-awaited unveiling ceremony, had the watcher vanished without a trace?
Could it be…
Had Elden Raphelion found him out?
No.
It couldn’t be.
It mustn’t be.
Sir Gelwood had said so himself. In sheer skill, the man was the absolute best in the business. There was no way an expert of that caliber would ever be exposed by the likes of Elden.
Or… had he been discovered by that female escort knight instead?
……No way.
She had heard the woman was skilled enough to earn the moniker of the Violet Knight, but that was no measure of her detection ability. Their man specialized in concealment—he was the industry’s finest at it.
Yes. It couldn’t be.
Something must simply have gone awry. Not a disappearance—an absence. He had stepped away briefly for some urgent matter. A crisis so pressing he had forgotten his duty long enough to miss a report.
Yes.
“……My lady?”
That had to be it. It simply had to. She could not afford to hand even the smallest pretext to that rat of a man, Elden Raphelion, who kept scurrying away so irritatingly.
“My lady!”
“Huh?”
Standing behind the platform, Lumiang finally snapped back to herself at Marien’s call. She had been so deeply lost in thought that she barely remembered how she had even traveled from the outer walls to the central plaza. Only Marien’s shout dragged her free.
The curse of the monster chieftain had forced her to hide her entire life. Because of that curse, she had endured every cruelty at the Academy. And now, at last, the moment she had dreamed of—stepping into the world as Lumiang Winterfell—was right before her eyes. Yet her mind was once again tangled with thoughts of Elden Raphelion.
“What is it?”
“You need to pull yourself together. This is the moment you’ve waited for your whole life, my lady.”
“Ah… right.”
She should be rejoicing. She could finally cast off this stifling mask and stand proudly before the world. She could stand tall before the four who had given her hell and declare that the hour of their repentance had come.
So why did anxiety outweigh joy?
Why did irritation surge stronger than anticipation?
Why did the sense of liberation feel so smothering?
“Haa…”
Lumiang exhaled a long breath. Anxiety, irritation, oppression—she could not cast them all off with a single sigh, but she forced her mind empty and looked up at the platform.
A towering flight of stairs that forced her to tip her head back just to see the top. Freedom waited at the end of it.
“Presenting today’s heroine—Her Grace Lumiang Winterfell, Grand Duchess of the North!”
The announcer’s booming voice rolled out from beyond the platform. Lifting the hem of her pure-white gown between her fingers, Lumiang set her first foot upon the steps.
One by one.
One careful step after another, she climbed toward the stage. She preferred flat shoes to heels on ordinary days, so the walk was not easy—yet she had practiced for this day. She would not fall. She would stand tall before the four and smile brightly.
With that vow she reached the top and stood upon the platform.
She saw them.
The countless citizens gazing up at her from afar.
And there, far below, the four looking up at her.
“Kyaa—Grand Duchess!”
“Woooo! Even with the mask, her beauty can’t be hidden!”
“She’s going to be so pretty~!!”
“Grand Duchess! Look over here—!!”
The central plaza erupted with thunderous, passionate cheers that threatened to tear the sky. People roared, whistled, waved their hands in pure delight. Her father watched her with eyes shining with emotion. Lumiang took them all in.
It was a perfect moment.
A happy moment.
Exactly as she had dreamed—her heart swelled full to bursting.
The problem was…
……
That swelling happiness lasted only a heartbeat. The instant Elden Raphelion’s face entered her line of sight, it felt as though only the two of them remained in the world.
Those eyes had once been a savage wildcat’s—sharp and vicious. Somewhere along the way they had softened into the pure, gentle eyes of a puppy. Those innocent eyes were looking up at her now.
And yet…
……
Why did fear rise in her chest? Why did those mild, unreadable eyes feel as if they were pinching at something?
Had the secret surveillance truly been discovered? Was he planning to use it as a weapon?
Anxiety clawed at her. After everything she had endured to climb this high—after every hell she had withstood—after preparing for this day and planning for tomorrow with every step up these stairs… the moment she descended from this platform, he would demand she approve his withdrawal and shatter everything.
Of course she had no intention of granting that demand. But the constant sense that she was being drawn into his orbit was more than enough to feed the dread.
It was so unfair. That the victim should feel this anxiety toward her own tormentor was a grotesque injustice. She wanted so badly to force him to his knees and make him weep tears of repentance. She wanted to erase this anxiety and this injustice.
Regret flooded her—if only she had heeded Sir Gelwood’s advice one day earlier. If only she had not clung so stubbornly to fruitless reports.
“And now—Her Grace Lumiang Winterfell, Third Grand Duchess, shall remove her mask and proclaim her noble name to all the world!”
The ceremony marched relentlessly onward, oblivious to the turmoil inside her. Through it all her gaze remained locked solely on Elden. Staring hard at his face, she took hold of the mask.
She could guess how the other three would react. Elden’s reaction, however, was impossible to predict. Deron, Blund, and Kyle would have sensed something wrong through the first and second rounds of suggestion. The trials had been far too excessive to be mere evaluations. The moment they saw her face, hair color would not matter—they would remember the past.
But Elden?
Watching his expression with fierce attention, Lumiang slowly lowered the mask.
“Ohhh—! A-at last—!”
“Show us that peerless beauty—!”
As the mask descended and revealed her smooth forehead, the plaza bloomed with rapture. When her blue eyes appeared, ecstasy surged. When her high, elegant nose was bared, bliss erupted. And when her full red lips came into view, a roar like thunder shook the air.
“Waaaaah—!!”
“Kyaaaa—!!”
Yet none of it reached Lumiang’s ears.
One second. His face remained calm.
Two seconds. His brows lifted.
Three seconds. His eyes widened.
Four seconds. His mouth fell open.
Five seconds. That stunned expression froze solid on his face.
……
And so Lumiang’s hypothesis—that he already knew her identity and was trying to flee—failed its verification completely.
Of course, the shock on Elden’s face held an entirely different meaning.
Whoa…! Fuck, what even is that. She’s so fucking pretty?
I was losing my mind.
Completely gone.
Was that even a human being? Had a goddess just descended?
No—
The illustration on the cover looked like some mediocre AI copy-paste job…
And this was a low-angle shot looking up at her—the kind of camera angle that turns even pretty faces into double-chin monsters—yet she was still rocking goddess-tier beauty? From this far away, every feature was still that sharp and clear?
She looked way prettier than the Erincia in original Elden’s memories. Was Ariel right—did pure white hair suit her a thousand times better than red?
It would not have been an exaggeration to say the Goddess of Eyes herself had personally sculpted her rather than some ordinary master carver. Greeting a level of beauty that even cutting-edge AI could never replicate, my jaw simply dropped. And I was far from alone—every single person packed into the plaza shared the exact same reaction.
The ridiculous rumor that she was “ugly” was instantly proven a pathetic lie. Lumiang’s beauty was blinding enough to make eyes water. A halo of light seemed to shine around her. That absurd cliché turned out to be pure truth—heavenly beauty made real. Apparently our heroine was the type who simply did not photograph well.
Aesthetic standards might vary by personal taste, but I was ready to bet Lumiang’s looks left no room for disagreement—only absolute worship. If the original novel had not been a female-oriented regret-obsession-depression romance fantasy, I would have fallen head over heels at first sight.
And then—
“Waaaaah—!!”
“Kyaaaaa—!!”
Clap clap clap clap!
The deafening cheers and thunderous applause from every man, woman, and child made it clear that her beauty needed no further explanation.
I turned my head. Amid the sea of pure joy and celebration, only one person wore a completely different expression—Ariel.
??????????????????
Her face was nothing but question marks, as if she had suffered total cognitive dissonance. Only a few days ago she had spoken face-to-face with white-haired Erincia, after all. Her expression almost made me snort with laughter, but laughing here would only give Lumiang the wrong idea, so I held it in.
I shifted my gaze sideways to the three regret-route candidates. Exactly as expected.
“…!”
“…?!”
“…!!!?”
Their faces had gone deathly pale. They kept glancing at one another with looks of pure shock and rising dread. Of course they were confused—the first and second evaluation matches had been anything but ordinary. Judging by the horror written across their features, the heroine’s plan to plant suggestions had landed perfectly.
A moment later—
Click.
Click.
Click.
Lumiang began descending the platform stairs. The closer she drew to the ground, the thicker the shock grew on their faces. From the three regret-route guys’ perspective, it must have felt like death itself approaching.
“Me too! I want to see the Grand Duchess up close—!”
“Grand Duchess! Please! Come this way too—!!”
Lumiang stepped down onto solid ground. We stood in order from the left: Deron, Blund, Kyle, then me. Deron received her greeting first. When she offered her hand, he pressed a kiss to the back of it. After that she spoke a few words, but the roaring plaza drowned out whatever she said. Judging by how his face went from ashen to outright bloodless the longer the greeting dragged on, it clearly had not been a casual hello.
She moved past Blund and stopped in front of Kyle. She seemed to offer the same greeting—but Kyle, who had been swaying on his feet ever since the mask came off, rolled his eyes back and collapsed with a soft thud.
The first swoon that announced the beginning of the regret-obsession-depression route.
“Kyaa—! Young Master Kyle fainted from the Grand Duchess’s overwhelming beauty!”
“Of course! Even a fine young gentleman couldn’t handle such absolute beauty—!!”
To the clueless masses it looked like a classic kingdom-toppling beauty had simply been too much for him to bear. Blund hurriedly propped Kyle up, and Lumiang came to stand before me.
Whoa… she’s even more insane up close. Holy fucking shit, she’s gorgeous.
Swear words rose unbidden. Seeing her in person was like getting punched in the face by pure beauty. Erincia had always dressed so plainly—almost shabby, nothing like a noble young lady—yet Lumiang in full formal makeup looked like a completely different person.
Without a word she offered the back of her hand. I pressed my lips to that porcelain skin and lifted my head.
And then—
“Even so… will you truly still refuse my confession?”
The sheer confidence that could bewitch an entire kingdom washed over me.
……
………
…………
Damn. I almost answered “No.”