Chapter 10
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 0.5
Chapter Title: Engagement Corruption? (4)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Two days before the fateful encounter.
"If you confess right now, he'll dump you clean and quick."
It was the firm declaration of Irene Restain, dressed in her signature black jacket.
A confession only happens under the premise that both people are already in love. You've flirted, eaten meals together, gone to the movies.
It's the final step to seal the deal once you're both convinced of your feelings.
A pretty face? Breasts that captivate men's hearts? A figure that curves out where it should and in where it should?
That stuff.
"Lucia, that guy Daniel doesn't see you as a woman. At best, he'd think of you as a pretty little sister-friend."
"…"
No way.
Lucia wanted to refute her words.
Just walking down the street turned plenty of men's heads, making them stop or stare.
He really doesn't see me that way?
"…"
But there were too many red flags to deny it outright. Just thinking back to times they'd shared drinks or talked.
Had his face ever flushed? His gaze ever wavered?
"You're serious about that?"
"Sadly, yes. It's a bit of a headache. Why would I tell you to go for it if it wasn't?"
There was an age gap, sure. But at seventeen, she was already treated as a full-fledged lady.
Even so, had he really been treating her like a kid?
"Dozens of noble ladies have fallen for him with that refined charm. And he's got a nosy streak—he steals hearts left and right."
"…What the hell has that man been up to?"
"Sorry. That's something you have to hear from him directly. Mess it up, and the whole storyline could collapse."
Sorry-like, Irene pressed a finger to her lips in a shushing gesture.
She lit her cigar with a flick. Then inhaled deeply and exhaled slow.
"Anyway, that's why we need a unique approach. Like tightrope walking right on the edge?"
Not black, not white. Something in that gray zone.
"…Then what's this?"
Lucia's pale hand pointed to the black box. Inside was an engagement ring set with a sapphire.
If her claim was true—that they needed to walk that tightrope—what was the point of this ring?
"Ugh… I know it sounds insane, but sadly, it's the most promising strategy."
An engagement was basically marriage in all but name. Giving one was like screaming "I love you" in his ear.
A confession might even feel lighter—engagements weren't casual.
But because it was Daniel Tristan, it might backfire into success.
"Just close your eyes and lie once, Lucia."
Direct confessions he could handle, but indirect attacks left his guard down.
"Can you fake an engagement?"
"Pardon? No, what do you—"
"Exactly what it sounds like. A temporary engagement for one year."
And use it as an excuse to get physically close.
"With people watching, hold hands, link arms. Skinship. Change how you address each other."
Go further: summer beach trips, winter hot springs.
The starting point to truly corrupt him.
"Humans live with lies on their tongues anyway."
"…"
"If you don't want it, I can offer it to someone else."
"Who said I didn't?!"
With that, Lucia snatched the pair of rings.
People sometimes sense strange vibes in life.
Waking up feeling unusually refreshed, only to check the clock and see it's long past 9, heading for 10.
Or ducking into a back alley on a hunch, finding a black mage.
"Fuck off, incubus—stop pretending to be a succubus!"
Through such experiences, people learn to predict incoming trouble.
"…"
"…"
In that sense, Lady Lucia seemed off today.
Just lightly escorting her by the fingertips, but her whole body felt tense. Like she was gearing up for something massive?
Her breathing was rougher, more erratic than usual. Not embarrassment or shame, though.
Choosing words carefully… nervous?
'Any reason for that?'
Tristan knights and the head maid who'd served her since childhood were tailing them, but she hadn't noticed.
'Something's fishy…'
Zero dating experience across lifetimes, but rubbing shoulders with female friends had taught him one thing.
"Hey, how do I look?"
"Urk."
"This bastard?"
Women were ruthlessly thorough. No interest? They draw hard lines. A spark? They close in.
Small sample size, but the girls around him were all like that.
Running that logic, he turned his head.
"…"
His retinas caught the data.
Lucia's pale hand gripping his tightly in tension.
A single bead of sweat trickling down her cheek.
And those cherry lips twitching nonstop.
…Hmm.
He'd seen this plenty.
Back in the academy days, when his body's age and mind's didn't match. Elementary division prime, girls calling him under the tree.
'This is bad.'
Especially one sticking point.
"Give me the ■■ ■■ ■■."
Sigh.
Should he have followed that smooth dark elf big sis after all…?
"Are you Daniel Dia Tristan?"
"Yes."
"This way."
While he was slurping down imaginary broth, they arrived at the third-floor private room Cecilia had booked.
First thought upon entering: his family was more serious about his love life than he was.
'How much did this cost?'
Sofa of top-grade buffalo leather, not a mosquito bite in sight. Furniture in deep crimson velvet and mahogany.
Balcony with massive sliding windows and heavy black curtains.
And blatantly, a silence-magic enchanted device for intimate times.
He was sure even John Wick shooting it out wouldn't leak a sound.
Alone, he'd have bowed three times toward Cecilia and crashed. But alas, his partner radiated tension.
"Enjoy the show."
The door clicked shut. Silence dropped. Just the two left in the room.
Perfect spot for her building tension to burst.
Whoa! Confession time?
It was. But for swordmaster duel tickets.
"Do you have something to say? You've been fidgety since earlier."
"…Yes."
She inhaled deep, exhaled. He could guess what came next.
"Sorry, but could you fake an engagement with me for one year?!"
"Lady, no need to apologize—. Pardon?"
Uh. So, like. Um.
This is why you don't learn romance from books.
And back to the present.
"…"
"…"
The pair watched the opera in silence.
Her fake-engagement bombshell still rippling, he was lost in thought.
'…Sigh.'
Lucia let out a breath.
Did she truly like him? Did he feel nothing for her?
The silence terrified her more than imagined. And it wasn't even a real confession.
She had to admit it: the courage of everyone who'd confessed to her before. She hadn't wanted their love, but they had lessons to teach.
"You're really okay with this? Temporary or not, it'll look like a real engagement."
Orchestra pausing for breath, music halted. His gaze pierced her.
Reading his eyes: worry. Respect. Clear intent. Unwavering resolve.
"Yes."
Ah. This man really doesn't see me as a woman.
Irritation bubbled up.
Annoyed by his line-drawing attitude boxing her in, Lucia snatched his hand—half pissy, half smitten.
Seeing his startled face, she added,
"Practice. Practice. If we're too awkward, it'll show."
Never thought she'd use family acting lessons here. Calming her racing heart, she pressed on.
'I haven't even decided if I like him yet—'
No. She couldn't continue.
Not just holding—his fingers slipped between hers, interlocking.
The rough, thick feel of his digits shook her to the core.
Thump thump thump.
Her heart threatened to shatter ribs. Worried sweat might slick their palms from the heat.
Come to think: perfume okay? Outfit? Hair?
"♬—♬__—♬"
Lost in thought, the opera resumed. Lucia missed it.
All nerves on their clasped hands—that novel sensation—she blanked on plot, hero's fate. Curtain fell.
'…'
Had to admit it. Why her heart raced now. Why she couldn't face him.
"That was fun."
Pretending she'd watched it all, she struck first. To hide her focus on his hand.
"I quite enjoyed it too. But…"
"'Fake' feels off. Temporary engagement, like I said? That works."
Be each other's shield until she gained adult independence.
Suspicious from others, maybe. But he'd bought her simple lie about "walking the path of the sword" instantly.
Truly infuriating.
First: straight out of a third-rate romance novel. Second: it was the best option.
Both pissed her off.
Two years. She'd show him. Lucia vowed.
Opera done, no reason to stay. Walking outside, Daniel suddenly,
"Hold on. Get closer."
"Pardon?"
Leaning in to whisper.
"My family obsesses over their eldest son's marriage."
His eyes pointed: shadows lurked. …Ah.
"Excuse me."
Light tug. Their hands linked into an arm hook.
Like a child's first footprint in fresh snow, she left her mark on him.
'Calm down, Lucia. It's just arms touching.'
Glanced up. What reaction? Shock? Joy? Fluster?
"Lady Lucia, they say boat rides are nice that way."
…Nothing?
"If that's not too forward— mmph!"
Squeeze. His left hand gripped hard. Her excuse:
"Who calls their fiancée 'Lady'?"
"…Lucia?"
"That'll do for now."
A faint smile crept on her lips, unbidden.
Boat rides. Strolls. Cafe. Waffles.
On stone bridge railing, gathered snow into a ball.
Tossed it—his face twisted awkwardly.
Something about it brought a smile to her face.
Time flew till sunset. His face glowed red in the dusk.
Meeting those casually kind eyes, Lucia had to admit it.
'I like this guy.'
Acknowledging the undeniable sparked courage. She stepped forward boldly.
"Hey, Daniel. Back home, at the ball… dance one with me?"
Bzzz—.
That instant, black light flashed from his pocket with vibration.
"Lucia, sorry—mind if I step away?"
"……Sure."
Clutching the glowing communication orb, for a split second, his face twisted into something alien.
An intensity like pure, utter loathing.
'…What was that?'
Refined, filtered, wrung-out emotion.
Immaculate, noble hatred.
Far too young for Lucia to grasp.