Wrong Script, Right Love Chapter 64: The Trial by Mother: Enter the Ice Queen

[Leif’s POV — Thorenvald Estate—The Next Day—Leif’s Chamber]

I adjusted the round cap on my head, squinting at my reflection. "Alright... since Mom and Dad have officially agreed to fund this brilliant idea, I should start preparing imdiately."

I turned toward the bed. Zephyy was sprawled across my pillows like a retired king, his tail lazily draped over his face.

"Zephyy," I called, posing with a queenly flourish, "how do I look?"

He cracked one golden eye open, blinked twice, and muttered in a sleepy voice, "Good, Master."

I frowned. "Tch... what a dry response. I miss Alvar now."

Zephyy closed his eyes and shifted lazily; he stretched and yawned, saying, "Your monster boyfriend," he muttered, "wouldn’t have let you ask anyone’s opinion in the first place. He’d have just stared at you like you were a cri scene he secretly admired."

I blinked, caught between a laugh and a sigh. "That’s... actually kind of accurate."

Zephyy blinked, his tail curling up like a cat’s. "And then he’d fix your hair, call you ’idiot’ in that cold tone, and act like he didn’t just lt halfway through the process."

I smiled, nodding with complete seriousness. "I agree."

KNOCK! KNOCK!

"Lord Leif, you’ve received an urgent letter," ca Nick’s voice from outside.

"Huh? Urgent letter?" I muttered, turning toward the door as Nick entered, holding an envelope with both hands like it was a royal treasure—or a death notice.

"It’s from the Regulfsson estate, my lord."

My face lit up instantly. "Ah! It must be from Alvar!" I clapped my hands together, my heart doing a ridiculous little flip.

Nick blinked. "Uh... it’s from Madam Selena."

Silence. A long, slow, horrifying silence.

"...You an... his mother?" I asked weakly.

Nick nodded, completely unaware of the ntal breakdown blooming in front of him. "Yes, my lord. Grand Duchess Selena Regulfsson."

My brain short-circuited. The smile slid off my face faster than spilled tea. "No... no, no, no, no, no, no." I clutched my hair dramatically. "Don’t tell ... HE TOLD HIS MOTHER ABOUT US!"

Zephyy instantly sat up on the bed, tail twitching in amusent. ’Oh, he totally did.’

"WHY WOULD HE DO THAT?!" I shouted, pacing back and forth like a man awaiting trial. "Who tells their mother they’re dating a man?! A nobleman’s mother! She’ll turn into decorative wall art!"

Nick stepped back slightly, eyes wide. "My lord, perhaps she just wants to... talk?"

I froze. Then—realization dawned.

"...Oh no," I whispered, clutching my head. "Don’t tell ... I’m about to face that classic scene?"

Nick blinked. "What scene, my lord?"

The mother-in-law showdown!

I know what’s going to happen.

It always starts the sa way! She’ll be sitting in a huge chair, sunlight behind her like so holy avenger of family honor. She’ll narrow her eyes, take out a cash—I an pouch of gold coins, and throw them at my feet saying— ’Leave my son, peasant! Take these coins and vanish from our noble lineage forever!’

But I—Leif Thorenvald, romantic legend and future heart attack victim—will stand tall amidst the flying coins! My hair will flutter, my eyes will glisten, and I shall declare—

’No amount of gold can buy my love, Madam! For your son has already purchased my soul—with affection!’

And then... the wind will blow through the window, scattering the coins around ! I’ll stare at her with righteous fire in my eyes and whisper—’Even if you throw a thousand bags of gold, I’ll never leave your son!’

Nick stared at , utterly lost. "Why do you... look happy, my lord?"

I blinked. "Am I?"

Nick nodded. "Yes, I can see a little happy glint in your eyes."

I gave him a bright, determined grin. "Because, Nick... this is my mont! My trial by mother! The rite every lover must endure! If I survive, she’ll accept ! If not... well, I’ll haunt Alvar until the end of ti."

Zephyy buried his face under a pillow. ’You’ve officially lost it.’

I took the letter from Nick with exaggerated solemnity. "Alright, let’s see what bomb is inside this."

Nick furrowed his brows. "Bomb, my lord?"

"Yes," I muttered, narrowing my eyes at the wax seal. "A social bomb. A noble-class, mother-level, possibly emotionally explosive bomb."

Then I turned dramatically toward the window, clutching the letter to my chest. "But no matter what storm awaits ... I, Leif Thorenvald, shall face it head-on—with fabulous courage, flawless hair, and maybe just a hint of perfu."

Anyway...drama aside, I was still nervous; the letter felt heavy in my hand. Not physically—no, it was light as a feather. But spiritually? Emotionally? Existentially? It weighed about five hundred kilograms of doom.

I tore the seal.

A faint scent of rosewater drifted out—of course it did. Even her stationery was intimidating.

Clearing my throat dramatically, I began to read aloud:

["To Leif Thorenvald,

I hope this letter finds you well. I wish to et you at the Azure Bloom Tea Hall today at noon for a brief discussion regarding my son. Please attend alone.

Sincerely,Lady Selena Regulfsson."]

Silence.

Pure, deafening silence.

Then I blinked and stared at the letter again.

"That’s it?!" I whispered. "No threats, no poetic warnings, no ’Prepare your final will’? Just... polite punctuation and emotional trauma wrapped in lavender ink?"

Zephyy looked up. I ignored him. I sank onto my chair, the laughter dying in my throat.

Because... she really sounds like the type who doesn’t tolerate nonsense. And ? I am nonsense—living, breathing, rainbow-colored nonsense who happens to love her son.

What if she hates ? What if she looks at and thinks, ’That ridiculous, glitter-brained Thorenvald corrupted my precious boy.’

I always pretend I don’t care—pretend to be brave and witty and unshakable.But I’m not.

I’m terrified.

Terrified of being .

I’m the first man in this world who dares to love another man openly. The first rainbow who refuses to hide. And sotis... that frightens even .

The thought twisted in my chest—tight, cold, suffocating. I didn’t notice my hands trembling until the letter crinkled between my fingers. For a long mont, everything went quiet. The light that usually burned so bright inside dimd—still there, but fragile. Flickering. Afraid to be seen.

"My lord... what are you thinking?" Nick’s voice cut through the silence, calm but alert.

I straightened, pressing the letter into my pocket like a ticking bomb. "Nothing... let’s go. She wants to et this afternoon. I’ll leave now." My voice sounded steadier than I felt.

Nick nodded, his eyes scanning my face. I knew he could see the storm brewing behind my forced composure.

Zephyy, apparently oblivious to the existential dread weighing down his master, leapt onto my shoulder and flicked his tail. ’Master... buy food.’

And with that, the battle of hearts, wills, and possibly flying golden coins was about to begin. Because no matter what...I am not giving up my love at any cost.

***

[Azure Bloom Tea Hall—Later—Afternoon]

I stepped down from the carriage, heart hamring like a drumline on parade day. The Azure Bloom Tea Hall lood before —elegant, intimidating, and absolutely the wrong place to die of nerves. Sunlight bounced off its polished windows, blinding like destiny saying, "You brought this upon yourself, fool."

Clenching my fist, I whispered, "Alright, Leif... let’s fight!"

... Which sounded a lot braver in my head than it did out loud. With that ridiculous internal pep talk, I marched—or stumbled—inside.

The hall was serene. Too serene. The kind of quiet where even your breathing feels like a cri. My boots clicked against marble floors, echoing far too loudly for my comfort.

A waitress spotted imdiately and bowed with practiced grace. "Welco, my lord," she said softly, her voice like a polite dagger wrapped in silk.

I nodded stiffly, trying not to wobble like a deer learning to walk on stilts and searched for her.

"She is waiting for you in this direction, my lord," she said, gesturing toward a secluded corner that radiated the energy of impending doom.

I nodded and followed the waitresses.

And there she was.

Madam Selena Regulfsson.

The resemblance to Alvar was unmistakable—sa jet-black hair, sa piercing blue eyes... but where Alvar’s gaze could freeze you, hers could shatter you into decorative ice cubes. She sat perfectly straight, every inch of her posture announcing authority, hands folded with the calm precision of soone who could politely destroy your entire bloodline over tea.

Her gaze locked onto —unblinking, assessing, as if I were a poorly written essay she intended to edit with blood.

And then—

"Where is your greeting, Leif Thorenvald?"

Her voice was smooth, elegant, and sharper than a blade dipped in honey.

I froze. My soul left my body.

Oh gods, she’s colder than Alvar.

Internally, I was already writing my will. Outwardly, I managed a trembling smile.

"Greetings, Madam Selena! Lovely day, isn’t it? Perfect weather for... uh... terror."

Her expression didn’t change. Not even a blink.

And that’s when I realized, Yep. Definitely dood.