A sprawling garden filled with the mingling fragrances of red and white roses stretched endlessly, so vast it was hard to see where it ended. Resting my body on a bench under the warm sunlight, I let out a contented sigh.
As much as I hate to admit it, this was leagues better than the small garden at Count Este’s estate. That place was barely maintained, with only old Hans, perpetually drunk and sprawled around, calling himself a gardener.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?”
“Oh, you are…”
A woman stood before , her brown hair and dark eyes giving her an unassuming appearance at first glance. But the calluses on her hands and the rugged scars spoke volus—she was no ordinary person.
If I had to describe her, she had the air of a tenacious mother figure.
Laura. If my mory served right, she was the head maid of the Hardenberg household. Wasn’t she the one Lily always followed around, calling her a ntor? Judging by how Lily’s grooming skills had improved since arriving here, it seed Laura was fulfilling that role quite well.
“I’m Laura Espelt. You can just call Laura,” she said with a cheerful smile.
“Oh… Laura. It’s been a while.”
I hadn’t seen her since she briefly helped get ready for the engagent ceremony. Honestly, I’d almost forgotten about her. After all, Lily had been handling most of the maid duties, so there was hardly a reason for to interact with Laura.
Besides, back during the engagent preparations, I’d been too busy to hold a proper conversation with anyone.
“It seems you’ve taken a liking to the garden,” she remarked.
“Yes, the roses are truly beautiful,” I replied.
“This garden used to be under the care of the forr duchess,” Laura explained.
The forr duchess… Abel’s mother, I supposed.
I tried to picture her, but no image ca to mind. Could I even imagine Abel calling anyone ‘Mother’? For that matter, had he ever had a maternal figure in his life?
Perhaps it was because of the ruthless deanor I’d witnessed during our first eting, or maybe the cold, calculating image he presented as a nobleman.
“The duchess passed away before the young master turned four. It’s a pity,” Laura said with a deep sigh, her expression clouded with sorrow.
For a mont, I tensed, wondering if she could sohow read the impolite thoughts I’d just entertained. Of course, such magic didn’t exist in this world… or so I reassured myself.
“Did you know? This garden originally only had white roses,” she added.
“And those red roses?”
“They were planted by the young master—no, the duke himself.”
The roses seed so cramped and intertwined, growing chaotically, which made sense now. But why plant red roses in a white rose garden? Was it a strange quirk of his? Or was I simply biased, seeing him through the lens of the villain I’d labeled him as?
“The duchess loved the color red. Even as she cared for this white rose garden, she always longed for red roses,” Laura said softly.
Given the size of this garden, the forr duchess likely hadn’t planted everything herself. This must have been a legacy passed down through generations. Could it be that Abel planted the red roses out of respect for his mother? The thought surprised —it seed so unlike the man I’d co to know.
“Please don’t hate the duke too much,” Laura said suddenly.
“…What?”
I turned my head sharply to find Laura’s face tinged with sadness. The resolute aura she’d carried when we first t had long since softened.
“He may seem cold, but he’s just clumsy in his own way,” she added.
It caught off guard.
He’d always appeared indifferent to his retainers, but perhaps that wasn’t the case.
Now that I thought about it, not one servant I’d encountered in this mansion had spoken ill of Abel. If anything, they had only good things to say—though Evan’s endless praise of the duke could be a bit much.
“Have I ddled too much?” Laura asked hesitantly.
“…No, it’s fine,” I replied.
The truth was, I still didn’t understand.
Abel Hardenberg.
Who was he, really? Before eting him, he had been nothing more than a sinister villain in my eyes. During our first encounter, he had been ruthless, driven solely by logic and gain. Then, during our contract marriage, he’d shown a playful side.
Which of these was his mask? Which was his true self?
‘I really don’t know.’
For the first ti, I found myself genuinely curious about the man called Abel Hardenberg.
***
Noble Etiquette, Pride, and Manners…
The days of what they called "bridal lessons"—but were essentially noble education—showed no signs of ending. I had thought learning a bit of dancing would suffice as a fiancée, but instead, I was being taught everything under the sun.
Embroidery was just the beginning. Add middle-school level math by modern standards, and an endless array of protocols required for a duchess. The only saving grace was that I had so prior experience with sewing from my previous life.
‘…This is exhausting.’
I knew I was lacking as a noble, but this rigorous education made realize just how uncouth I’d been. Of course, it wasn’t as if I’d been so offensive as to warrant assassination attempts, but… I had caused unnecessary trouble more than once.
“You look like you're struggling.”
“Du—uh, Abel.”
I turned my head to see Abel with a faint smirk on his face. Sothing about that expression was so irritating that I let out a sigh.
“You still can’t seem to get used to it. When will you call by na properly?”
“...Did you co here just to tease ?”
“Of course,” he replied without hesitation.
I sighed again. He’d been absent for days, and now that he finally showed up, this was all he had to say?
“Is it really okay for a duke to be this idle?”
Mocking him a little, I raised a brow. Abel chuckled before replying.
“I left things to Allen this ti, so it’s fine.”
Allen? Ah, the elderly butler with white hair. If Allen was handling things, there was no need to worry. From what I’d heard, he’d served the Hardenberg family for nearly fifty years. At that point, wasn’t he practically the true power behind the scenes?
It was rare for a butler—or any servant, really—to work for a single household for such a long ti.
“I heard noble etiquette has been giving you trouble,” Abel remarked.
“Well… yes,” I admitted reluctantly.
A few months ago—or perhaps a year, if I counted my regression—I had lived as Adele von Este. Yet, I’d never paid much attention to etiquette. Back then, I’d been too busy trying to survive to bother learning such things.
Now, as the duchess-to-be, I was learning the ins and outs of noble manners, but… perhaps because of my twenty-odd years of modern mories, many of the rules felt nonsensical. morizing them was an uphill battle.
“If you’d like, I could help,” Abel offered.
“…Why?”
The words ca out curtly, almost unintentionally. Yet, Abel rely chuckled, responding in a tone that was surprisingly kind.
“Because I’d rather not see Lady Adele embarrass herself.”
“Ugh… it’s not that bad!”
“Oh? Would you like to list out the etiquette you skipped during the engagent ceremony? I wouldn’t mind recalling them one by one.”
“Ugh… that’s…”
He had a point. After the ceremony, I’d endured a two-hour lecture from Allen delivered in his usual gentle but firm tone. Even Lily, who usually defended at all costs, had turned her back on during that ordeal.
“Well, there’s no rush. You won’t be making many public appearances for now.”
“But isn’t the hunting festival coming up?” I asked, puzzled.
Abel shook his head. “The festival has been postponed by a month. The snow on the Eternal Snow Mountain hasn’t lted yet.”
The hunting festival.
It was a kind of celebration held on the treacherous Eternal Snow Mountain, located north of the Imperial capital of Irie. Known for its rugged terrain and dangerous monsters, it was a perilous region.
The festival’s origins traced back over a thousand years to the Empire’s first emperor, Yuk von Schufenheim, who had conquered the mountain’s monsters and reached its summit.
For young nobles, it was both a chance to prove their strength and an opportunity to present a hunting prize to the lady they admired. Ladies, in turn, used the gifts to assess their own value.
The person who brought back the most or most valuable catch earned the title of “King,” while the lady who received the most prestigious gift was titled “Queen.” It was an opportunity to make a na for oneself. Naturally, due to the dangers, many royal knights participated, which kept casualties relatively low—usually no more than one or two deaths annually.
“Looking forward to the hunting festival, Adele?” Abel teased.
“What?”
“Curious about what prize I’ll bring back?” he said with an infuriatingly smug grin.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious, but his confidence annoyed .
“Not really,” I replied curtly.
“I’ll make sure to bring back sothing beyond your expectations,” he said.
That sohow felt ominous. Was he planning to claim both the King and Queen titles simultaneously? Even if it was to keep up the appearance of our contract marriage, that seed excessive…
…Surely not, right?
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