The Eve
“Enter.”
Unaware of the situation outside, Ferzen opened the ice door with a impassive expression and stepped forward alongside Euphemia.
Squeak!
At first, Euphemia tensed her entire body, worried she might slip, but the floor made of ice was surprisingly not slippery at all.
Elemental magic formed by transmuting mana could have its basic properties distorted to a certain degree at the caster's discretion.
Step...Clack...
With no one else present in the cathedral, only the footsteps of Euphemia and Ferzen echoed quietly through the silence.
The seats that should have been filled with guests were instead blanketed in blooming ice flowers, filling the empty spaces.
The distinctive stained glass, rendered in thin ice, absorbed the moonlight and cast a hazy glow over the interior.
Soon, they reached the end of the cathedral.
Where an image of the Virgin Mary should have hung, the emblem of the Five Blessings Gods—specifically, the god presiding over love—had been sculpted from ice, welcoming Euphemia and Ferzen.
“I figured no one would come anyway... but I never imagined you'd hold a wedding like this, with not a single guest...”
Growing a touch sentimental, Euphemia spoke at length, but Ferzen swept back his bangs and replied in his usual flat tone.
“I’ve never been fond of crowds in the first place. And... it’s not that no one would come—it’s that there are people you wish wouldn’t.”
“……”
At first, she couldn’t grasp what he meant.
She couldn’t comprehend it properly.
But as Ferzen, who had been staring straight at the emblem of the god of love, turned to meet her gaze, Euphemia felt a chill run down her spine.
No, it was more than a chill... it was terrifying, frightening.
This man... this husband of hers... knew.
And despite knowing, he had pretended otherwise all this time.
“Ah...”
She didn’t want to show it.
Yet her body trembled like a leaf in the wind.
If Ferzen hadn’t phrased it so indirectly on purpose, Euphemia surely would have wet herself right there.
“A wedding is a ceremony to have the attending guests socially acknowledge the bond between two people. In that sense, holding one like this... means that your recognition alone is enough for me.”
“……”
In the silent cathedral, Ferzen gently stroked Euphemia’s trembling cheek and continued.
“There’s no officiant or priest, so... let’s recite the marriage vows according to tradition and conclude the ceremony.”
Gazing down at Euphemia, who seemed on the verge of collapse, Ferzen raised his right hand.
“I, Ferzen von Schweig Brutein, vow to take Euphemia el Lerenne Ruerg as my wife and become her husband.”
Euphemia didn’t respond.
But Ferzen waited patiently.
He knew she had no choice but to answer, even if it took time.
“I... Euphemia el Lerenne Ruerg...”
And as Ferzen had predicted, Euphemia broke her silence, her voice laced with deep despair and resignation.
“...vow to take Ferzen von Schweig Brutein... as my husband, and become... his wife...”
She wasn’t a fool; Euphemia understood.
Why Ferzen had spoken indirectly.
And what this wedding truly signified.
Rather than forcing a collar on her, he wanted her to put it on herself.
Euphemia herself had no desire to entangle herself with Ciel Midford for his sake.
But Ferzen didn’t know her true feelings—and even if she told him, he wouldn’t believe her.
Yet by not mentioning Ciel Midford directly, he was showing clear intent: if she proved her sincerity... he would continue pretending not to know and spare Ciel Midford’s life.
Thus, without giving Ferzen a chance to respond, Euphemia continued alone in the vast cathedral.
“And... I will always respect him.”
“And... I will do my utmost to fulfill my duties as his wife.”
“And... I will share in his sorrows and joys.”
“And... I will never leave his side... for eternity...”
With that...
“I, Euphemia el Lerenne Ruerg... swear here and now... with not a shred of falsehood...”
Euphemia lowered her right hand.
In response, Ferzen gave a curt reply.
“I, Ferzen von Schweig Brutein... will not cause Euphemia el Lerenne Ruerg sorrow, so long as she upholds the four vows she has sworn.”
Unlike Euphemia’s, Ferzen’s final words lacked the backing of a formal swear.
It was proof of their variability.
An unfairness that had no place in a proper wedding rite.
Yes, and so... this couldn’t be called a wedding.
It was merely the world’s most opulent rite of lord and vassal.
“...Let’s go back.”
Ferzen lowered his right hand.
“...Yes.”
Euphemia nodded.
Soon after, the grand cathedral of ice dissolved back into mana, swirling away like blue smoke, vanishing as if it had been a mirage.
“……”
Returning to the bedroom, Euphemia blankly watched Ferzen change his clothes.
As long as she kept her word, she believed Ferzen would honor his own.
Yes, she believed he would keep it.
But... if he killed Ciel without her knowledge.
Or if Ciel showed hostility first.
…
Now, it was no longer Ferzen she doubted.
Rather, Euphemia wanted assurance for herself.
And she knew exactly how to get it.
“...I want it.”
“……”
Ferzen’s hand paused as he loosened his necktie at the sound of Euphemia’s voice.
“I want... to have sex with you.”
It wasn’t her fertile period today.
Even so, Euphemia spoke first.
If she got pregnant, Ferzen wouldn’t make a fuss over nothing.
And she herself would feel a sense of relief.
Ciel, too, would give up once he saw her swollen belly.
That would... make everything alright.
It was a fate she couldn’t avoid forever—bearing his child.
She had struggled futilely to delay it as long as possible, but now she decided to give up cleanly.
“……”
But Ferzen merely gazed at her indifferently and continued untying his necktie.
Yes, even if she said it like this.
He wouldn’t feel the slightest arousal.
Swish...
So Euphemia slipped off her panties herself.
She grabbed the hem of her wedding dress, hiked it up to her waist, and got on all fours on the bed like a bitch in heat.
Then, spreading her own dry folds with her fingers, she opened her mouth to seduce Ferzen.
“I want... your child... so please... give me your seed...”
“……”
Once more, Ferzen’s hand stopped.
Though darkness shrouded the room, the unusually bright moonlight streamed through the window, exposing not only Euphemia’s spread pussy but even her asshole above it in stark clarity.
A posture of utter humiliation.
But Euphemia refused to lower her hips.
“Ah...”
As Ferzen approached her side and stroked her snowy white ass, he murmured.
“You keep your word faithfully.”
“I swore... to do my utmost... as your wife...”
Euphemia’s words could also be seen as a desperate plea for him to keep his own promise.
“……”
Of course, Ferzen had no intention of breaking it.
But at the banquet on May 7th, the moment a seat was prepared for Ciel Midford, he would undoubtedly draw his sword.
It was a fate designed that way—unchangeable.
Once the justification was in place and Ciel Midford died, even Euphemia couldn’t do anything about it.
In truth, if he could just confirm Ciel Midford’s death...
There would have been no need for this.
She would give her all, her full effort...
But could she truly bring it to an end?
Harboring that fear, Ferzen used the current situation to subjugate Euphemia completely.
Securing the next-best option in advance, in case the ideal failed, was a rational choice.
Squelch...
Euphemia’s pussy gradually grew wet.
Normally, he would have prolonged the foreplay, but Ferzen didn’t.
“Agh!”
He plunged straight inside.
As if she had wanted exactly this, Euphemia welcomed Ferzen’s cock deep within, pressing her crotch flush against his.
“Hah, ahh!”
Not even immersed in pleasure yet, she clenched her walls tight around his withdrawing shaft, even coquettishly squeezing to hold him in.
Each time, her shyly puckered anus winked lewdly...
But Euphemia didn’t care, brazenly displaying even this vulgar side of herself before Ferzen.
And so, moans that could have been sobs or cries of ecstasy—mournful and lascivious—adorned the final night of April.