Chapter 1
I. Sandcastle
It was a morning like any other. A stifling silence hung between the two people sitting across from each other at the reception table. Only the occasional rustle of turning pages intermittently disturbed the quiet that had settled over the room.
The scene felt somewhat disconnected from what one might expect of a newlywed couple, but for those employed at the Valentin residence, it was an utterly ordinary part of daily life. As always, Charlotte was the first to break the silence.
“You know there’s a gathering this afternoon, right?”
Lucius finally lowered the book he was reading and looked at his wife across the table. Beneath lush, silver-white eyelashes, eyes that shone a deep blue, like set sapphires, met hers. His neatly set, straight lips moved slightly.
“Yes, I’m aware.”
“Will you be able to attend this time? If it’s really not possible, it would be fine to just stop by for a moment.”
“My apologies. I’m busy with work. I will try to attend next time.”
Even his refusal was no different from usual.
“…I see.”
As if she had expected nothing else, Charlotte nodded placidly. She hadn’t expected a positive response in the first place, so she felt neither upset nor disappointed. In fact, had Lucius answered that he would attend the gathering, she might have been so surprised she’d have fallen right out of her chair.
As she entertained these trivial thoughts, the sound of pages turning began again.
Charlotte gazed intently at Lucius as if watching the same unchanging scenery outside a window year-round.
His long fingers turning pages at a steady pace, his relaxed hand movements as he held the teacup, the shape of his lips as he opened them to drink the tea, and the movement of his Adam’s apple with every swallow. This series of excessively neat and static actions seemed less like rest and more like a part of his work.
Sunlight streaming through the window fell on his well-textured silver hair. Looking again, it seemed he hadn’t been long out of the shower, as the ends of his hair were slightly damp. He had probably been to the training grounds since dawn.
Swordsmanship was the only active hobby in Lucius’s boringly monotonous routine. He always trained behind locked doors in the indoor practice hall, so Charlotte had never once seen him practicing. Perhaps because of that, she simply couldn’t picture that refined-faced man sweating and swinging a sword fiercely.
Then, Lucius met her eyes.
Charlotte finally realized he had already finished his book and was waiting for her.
“You must be busy, please go ahead. There’s no need to wait for me.”
“It’s fine.”
Whenever they ate meals or drank tea together, Lucius always waited until she got up from her seat. Even though he wasn’t going to say anything anyway, why did he wait each time like a stone statue? In the end, Charlotte ordered the servants to clear away her half-finished tea and rose from her seat.
Lucius, who disliked mingling with people, did one of two things on days when gatherings were held at the mansion like today: he either went out for the entire day or holed up in his office and worked until dawn. They probably wouldn’t see each other again until tomorrow morning.
At a pace neither slow nor fast, Charlotte finally withdrew her gaze from the back of her husband, who was leisurely leaving the reception room.
***
Charlotte Valentin was capable. She had been so even when she was still Charlotte Rosewood, but after marriage, her abilities shone even brighter. Coming from an old, prestigious family, possessing a beautiful appearance and a competent disposition, a well-rounded education, and supportive spousal management based on an active social life—she performed her role as the mistress of the Valentin family thoroughly and without deficiency.
People unanimously praised the capable Duchess, and Charlotte, who had dreamed since childhood—before she even knew better—of becoming ‘an exemplary wife worthy of admiration,’ felt pride and self-satisfaction in herself. Of course, not anymore.
“Charlotte, everyone’s been wondering where you’ve been lately, you’re never at the banquets. Are you feeling unwell? You look a bit paler than usual, if I may say so.”
In response to the Countess’s question, Charlotte gently set down the teacup she was holding.
“My husband so prefers spending time with me alone, you see. It’s become difficult to attend banquets as often as I used to. And also…”
As if embarrassed, Charlotte covered her cheek with her palm.
“Last night, because of him, I couldn’t get much proper sleep, so I suppose I look a bit tired. Thankfully, nothing hurts. Thank you for your concern, Countess.”
Pride and self-satisfaction? How could such things exist in a life riddled with falsehoods?
“Oh my. I’m so envious. My husband, perhaps it’s his age, but every time we do it, I have to suck him down there to get him up. You have no idea how much work it is.”
To Charlotte, the Countess’s complaint sounded like a problem born of excessive bliss. And for good reason—even after nearly a year of marriage, she had yet to share a bed with her husband.
Discussion
0 CommentsNo comments yet.