The First Article
These were not the eyes of a man who tossed words out at random, merely to see what they might do. When the impulse took him, they belonged to someone who could put those words into action—and without a shred of guilt.
A chill went through Odelli.
She knew, in her head, that the Ludville who had lost his memory was not the man she had known so well. And yet, now and then, whenever he showed her a side so utterly unlike the one she knew, the wrongness of it was like coming face to face with a stranger.
The diligent Head Chef, who had served the Archducal Castle in quiet faithfulness for so many years, might be driven out on nothing more than a turn of his mood.
"……I had meant not to mention it. It is a private matter."
"Oh?"
The moment Odelli began, he tipped his chin up a fraction—a wordless signal to go on.
"There was someone, once…… who resembled Your Grace a great deal. He favored food like this as well, so I often made it for him myself."
"Resembled me, you say?"
"Yes."
"In what way?"
"The overall impression…… quite a lot."
Less a resemblance than the man himself.
Ludville seemed to turn the words over, narrowing his eyes for a moment, then sank back against the sofa with a languid air, as if he had already lost interest. His face did not say he was convinced, but he asked nothing more, as though he would let the matter pass.
And if he did not let it pass, what could she do? He was living on without knowing that he had been her husband thousands of times, or that at the end of all that time he had saved her and died.
"So that is why you proposed to me?"
"……What?"
"Because of this man I supposedly resemble?"
"That is quite a leap."
Odelli could not hide her dismay.
At the sight of her shaken, Ludville faltered for an instant, then stared at her with eyes of a violet so deep it might have been the sea itself. The look of a predator a breath away from tearing into a weakness.
"You will never see him again, by the look of that face."
My face?
Odelli had just turned her head on reflex, meaning to compose her expression, when he caught her chin without the slightest hesitation and lifted it. A face at once familiar and somehow strange drew close enough that his breath could reach her.
In that instant his scent struck her—heavy leather, the lingering trace of musk, and something like the warm smell of wood soaked deep into him. It called up the countless nights she had passed with him, nights branded into memory.
"……."
Memory poured out of her, helplessly, in that strange form: things she had never lived through even once, and yet that remained inside her all the same. Too close. The scent, the breath, the distance.
He took in her rigid expression, let out a short laugh, and released her readily, drawing back.
"……You lay hands on people without leave. I would prefer you restrain yourself."
"My apologies. You looked ready to flee."
"……."
So she would not be allowed to flee? What was he, some beast lying in wait for the moment its prey bared a vital spot?
He was never like this before. Not once.
The more Odelli turned over his present state, the more she could only sigh.
"Hmm. A lady of House Cardel could form a conjugal bond even with the imperial family. And yet you chose me—a madman, and gutter-born at that. Hardly sound judgment, is it?"
He did not look away. His mouth twisted.
"Or did you lose your judgment because of that man?"
Ludville already seemed certain. He had concluded that Odelli harbored feelings for some particular person, and had proposed to him only because he resembled that man.
"It may not be the sole reason, but it seems to have played a rather decisive part."
"……."
"Amusing."
He let out a small laugh.
"I am looking at an illusion of blue eyes, and you…… well. You seem to be looking at some golden-haired illusion of your own."
She had, it seemed, stirred his interest without meaning to. Denial would not take, Odelli judged, and so she simply gave up on persuading him. In truth, aside from the fact that the man was Ludville himself, he was not exactly wrong, and she had no way to refute him.
Instead of the memories of regression, have the thousands of memories piled up turned into a beast's instinct?
She had caught his interest for now, so she would not bother to explain. Still, she thought she would have to watch every word, every action, in front of him from here on.
Odelli turned the conversation with practiced ease.
"In the end you came all this way to find me, and you are worrying at something so trivial with such persistence……."
When he fell briefly silent, she struck straight at the heart of it.
"It seems the food was to your taste."
"……."
The counterattack had begun.
"……Yes. I won't deny it."
After the silence, Ludville settled deeper into the sofa and folded his arms.
"If there is something you want, say it. Anything. You provided food that was actually worth eating, so I will give you a reward."
"Anything, you say?"
"Money, jewels, status…… whatever you like."
As he always had, he listed the terms with indifference, the way he might offer them to the Blue-Eyed Woman. Then he stopped, suddenly, and looked at her.
"……Or do you expect something like 'love,' as a substitute for the man who resembles me?"
Ludville had spoken a kind of word he had never offered anyone, and had never meant to offer.
"No."
"……."
He had not thought she would answer like that. At the knife-sharp refusal, he faltered for an instant. But the smile at his mouth only deepened.
She wanted power, yet refused money and status. She wanted marriage, yet refused love. She was behaving like a puzzle full of contradictions.
There must be an answer.
She was not simply acting on whim. Odelli was, without question, consistent. And so Ludville found himself wanting to solve her. A desire to look her over piece by piece, as if dissecting her, seeped quietly into his gaze.
"Then?"
What was she about to say this time? The usual line, that she needed no material assurance? Some performance of humility, staged so she might seem unpredictable?
Ludville tilted his head in silence. Faced with an opponent he could not read even an inch ahead, he had asked it the way a child presses a toy—once, just to see.
Odelli answered with her composure intact.
"There is something I would very much like you to grant."
"Speak."
"Should you accept the Contract Marriage, I would like to draw up now, in advance, the contract we are to exchange."
"You want to settle the Contract Marriage Articles?"
"Yes. It would be troublesome if you later refused to accept my conditions."
Odelli held his eyes for a moment, then added, as if confirming it once more.
"You did say you would grant anything, did you not?"
It was unexpected. She, who had been evasive all along, was for the first time stating outright that she meant to reveal her ambition.
"Then write it out. Here and now."
Interest stirred, Ludville felt inside his coat and drew out a fountain pen. Soon he was watching Odelli write something busily across the paper, meaning to wait and see just how blatant, how intriguing, the terms she set down would be.
And yet—
Article 1. The two shall share a meal together at least once a day.
What had been written there had missed his expectations entirely.