Chapter 9
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 0.5
Chapter Title: Fiancée Corruption? (3)
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"What an unfamiliar ceiling."
My personal theory: the number two line people always want to say when they get possessed into a story.
Number one is, "I'm screwed. That's the conclusion I reached after much deliberation." The latter's from some super famous novel, of course.
Having checked off one item on my bucket list, I hopped out of bed.
The sharp tang of wine lingered on my breath—heavy drinker, apparently. Romance, political marriage, it's all good, even without cutting guys out of the picture...
"Come on, one more round! Wine's meant for the young!"
"Sure, sure..."
"You'll have a wife someday, right? No drinking like this otherwise."
A young, unmarried relative. No lover to nag about boozing. Perfect recipe for "just kill me already," Samwise.
The aftermath of that grand collaboration alcohol barrage hit hard.
Still, a grin crept onto my face.
'Yas!'
Couldn't remember the last vacation. No—sleeping in an actual bed felt like a miracle.
I'd survived on duty-room naps for ages, but this? Proof I was truly alive, living a human life.
"Nice weather too."
As if blessing my little sister's heir appointment, the chill wind had calmed, sunlight warm as could be.
Stepping into the garden, a puppy scampered about.
"Ppobi, come here."
"Woof!"
I tore some jerky left from last night's snacks and tossed it his way.
"Woof!"
Old hat for him—Ppobi spun mid-air acrobatics and snatched it perfectly.
Typical romance-fantasy dog. On another level.
"Good boy, Ppobi."
"I'm not Ppobi... I'm Alexander II."
Turning toward the voice, there stood my youngest sister, Isabel, clutching a doll.
A dog named Alexander? Sounded like he'd conquer every doghouse in the territory. And II meant Dad had one too.
"Morning, princess."
"..."
I greeted her, and she took a tiny step back. Awkward eyes. Four years without a home visit hit home—even after showing my face once.
"Princess, want some chocolate?"
"...!"
Her dark eyes widened. Then she glanced around instinctively.
Pure ten-year-old reaction—I burst out laughing.
"Here. Quick, before anyone sees."
"...Okay."
She scurried over, snatching it adorably. Made me wanna get married, seeing that.
If only I could...
"Don't let anyone catch you, or you'll get in huge trouble. Keep it secret."
Isabel nodded solemnly.
Cavities had her on a sweets ban—every treat precious, like my vacations to me.
'How many vacation days left?'
Terror I'd buried subconsciously bubbled up. Rookie leave lasts 3.4 seconds; mine was melting away too.
'Ah.'
One hand could count 'em. Tempting to bail and vanish.
But nah—District Chiefs and crew would hunt me down, eyes blazing. Mutual assured destruction bound us tight.
Best team ever?
"Young master! Miss! Breakfast is ready!"
Right after Isabel's perfect chocolate cover-up, a newbie maid hollered from afar.
'It's here.'
Bittersweet.
Post-meal, uniform on, fending off waves of noble ladies. No clue how many dances today.
Heir ceremony day one: just marquis house and branches. Family declares, "I'm acting heir now."
Limited ladies: Cecilia's childhood friends, retainers' daughters.
Trouble starts today, day two. Peer marquis houses and others send folks to "gild faces."
Direct lines or equivalents included. Dance-bot mode, engaged.
Black mages or heretics easier—at least they drop cash when caught.
"Skip today. No need. Tour the territory instead."
...?
Ears doubted it. Mom's words at full family breakfast didn't compute.
"But I should show face, right?"
"You'll return to the Holy Empire eventually. Rest a day."
Tristan name or not, I'm outsider by default. Attended family event—enough duty...
'Suspicious.'
Rude thought, but too fishy.
Like a black mage trap begging to be sprung. Instincts screaming.
Mom smiled faintly at my blank face.
"Realized forcing it won't work."
"That..."
"Waiting's a parent's virtue. Rest easy today."
She resumed eating, serene as an enlightened monk.
If acting, surrender. Kids outscheming parents? Bad form.
Accepted her kindness. I'm the marriage-blocker anyway.
Problem: time gaping open. Guests incoming soon—no holing up jobless.
"Oppa."
Cecilia slid a paper under the table, gold-embossed white.
One line: 'Rittila Opera House.'
'Opera?'
Medieval fantasy with opera? Normal—every era has entertainment.
Go's "brain training" now; Joseon era, "Kids obsessed with Go, ruining country!"
But tricky for me. Zero music base, plus all-nighter booze—classical would knock me out.
Snoozing opera? Ultimate disrespect.
Super awkward—
"Third-floor private box."
Cecilia clarified my confusion.
"You looked beat yesterday. Private—no prying eyes."
Got it. House eyes everywhere; crash outside instead.
"Cecilia."
"...What, oppa? Wait. Not doing that old thing now, right? I'm not a kid anym—kyaa!"
Grateful for sis's care, I ruffled her hair on impulse. Felt like farting hearts too.
"Me too, big bro!"
Theodor, unlike shamefaced Cecilia, demanded his turn. Heartwarming sight.
'This is family.'
Close-knit, caring ideal.
No dating yet, but orphan no more—successful life?
"Ah, h-hello. Long time... no see?"
Take that back.
Family bonds too deep. Didn't expect this for eldest son's marriage.
Waiting for opera entry with ticket, VIP showed.
Silver-blond hair. Blue eyes. Lucia de Astria.
Familiar traits.
Obviously—met two days ago.
Classic noble disguise: effortful casual, no show-off.
Blue velvet jacket, white blouse, sky skirt—balanced.
Minimal skin, flattering fit. Simple necklace, hairpin accents.
Prime "incognito lady" specimen. Subtle noble vibe.
Matching ticket in her right hand.
"Ugh... hot weather, huh."
'It's winter.'
Face beet-red, pure embarrassment.
Makes sense—drunken antics two days back. Not blushing weirder.
Wordless ambush? Situation crystal clear.
'Busted.'
Harder not to be. Wasted in front of Mikhail; he'd blab to parents.
Astria house PTSD: eldest son barely wed at twenty-five.
Won't let baby girl follow. Link her to outsider guy before sword-only Mikhail 2.0?
My guess: connection's fate, make it stick.
Comrades in suffering...
"Such coincidence must be fate. Honor of joining you?"
"Y-yeah."
Trial accepted. Fleeing now? Not an option.
"Shh! Quiet. What if young master hears?"
"...Too late."
'Damn.'
Escort to prevent wandering. Family's heavenly grace nearly brought tears.