It must be admitted, this was indeed Escar's fault.
He had promised to return as soon as possible.
Well, at the very latest, it would only take a day and a night.
But who would have thought his departure would be delayed? He was, after all, obligated to attend the funeral of the King.
This caused his return to be delayed, leaving him to stay at the royal palace for ten days before finally coming back home.
However, what awaited him upon arriving at his long-missed residence?
"…."
Escar gazed sorrowfully at a door from outside.
It was a room rarely used—a guest room.
"My apologies. This was Madam's request. I couldn't refuse."
The room was now being used by Shirley, who had distanced herself from their shared master bedroom.
"Moreover, she insisted on sleeping alone." Villicia's explanation deepened the unease in Escar's heart.
A surge of sadness overwhelmed him.
Did Shirley dislike him now? Was it because he had broken his promise?
Ah, he should have kept his promises, no matter how small.
A man should always honor his word.
Of course, it made sense if the wife he cherished had grown less fond of him because of this.
"Your Excellency, blablabla …."
"Lord Marquess, blablablab…."
Escar tried to occupy himself, hoping to distract his heart from lingering sadness.
His paperwork had piled up due to his absence, and it seemed like the perfect excuse to give Shirley the space she clearly desired.
Four days had passed since his return, and Shirley still refused to join him, not even for their usual shared meals.
He could only hope that whatever troubled her mind would soon be resolved.
•••
"…."
Escar's emerald eyes fixated on an official royal invitation in his hand.
It was for the coronation of the Crown Prince as the new young King, an event coupled with his wedding to the Crown Princess.
TUK! … TUK! … TUK!
Absentmindedly, Escar drummed his fingers against the table, deep in thought.
Should he try convincing Shirley, who had been avoiding him for the past month, to attend the coronation?
Would she even enjoy it?
Or would she outright refuse him again?
KNOCK! KNOCK!
"…!"
Startled, Escar glanced toward the door as Sir Bashilian, stationed outside, announced:
"Your Excellency, the Marchioness wishes to see you."
"…!"
SRUAK!
Upon hearing that Shirley wanted to meet him, Escar shot out of his chair so abruptly that it toppled backward.
It had been so long since he last saw her.
Now that she herself had decided to approach him, his heart brimmed with anticipation.
CREAK~!
Sir Bashilian slowly opened the door, allowing Shirley to enter gracefully.
SHAAA~!
As usual, … Escar found himself frozen, mouth slightly agape.
Once again, her natural beauty captivated him, despite her effortless appearance.
The Marquess fell in love all over again, momentarily forgetting his worries about why Shirley had been avoiding him lately.
"…."
Escar was rendered speechless as Shirley entered.
Despite the tension between them, his heart betrayed him once more, captivated by her effortless grace.
Shirley, however, appeared composed, her expression unreadable as she spoke.
"It's been a while, husband," she began casually, taking a seat without hesitation.
"There's something I want to discuss," Shirley said, her voice steady. "Let's sit and talk."
Escar hesitated, unsure how to interpret her tone, but he quickly followed her lead, seating himself across from her.
For Escar, this directness was a welcome change.
It saved him from deciphering the subtle hints that women, especially Shirley, were so adept at delivering.
["How can I help, wife?"] Escar scribbled, immediately attentive.
Shirley's gaze flickered briefly before she responded, "The invitation to the coronation and wedding of the Crown Prince—I hear you've received it."
"…?" Escar tilted his head slightly, unsure of where this was leading.
"Why didn't you show it to me?" Shirley pressed, her tone sharp.
"…!" Escar stiffened.
"Do you not intend to take me along?" she asked, her voice rising slightly, tinged with irritation.
Escar's panic was immediate.
He hastily wrote his response, his green eyes wide with alarm.
["That's not it at all!"]
Shirley narrowed her eyes. "Then what is it? If not that, then what?"
["I wanted to tell you in person. I wanted to invite you to come with me,"] he explained hurriedly, his writing slightly shaky.
["But you know best."]
Shirley blinked, confused. "What do you mean?"
["You've been avoiding me, Shirley. How could I tell you anything when you won't even look at me?"] Escar's expression softened, but his eyes shimmered with unshed tears.
["Wife, have I done something to hurt you? Is it because I broke my promise? Is that why you've been avoiding me?"]
"…."
Shirley's face flushed with guilt. She bit her lip, unsure of how to respond.
["Even the smallest promises matter. I should have kept mine,"] Escar continued, his sorrow evident. ["I wouldn't blame you for being upset."]
"…."
Shirley averted her gaze. Her earlier irritation faded, replaced by a pang of regret.
She had indeed been avoiding him, but even she wasn't entirely sure why.
"Haish!" Shirley finally exclaimed, exasperated. "I don't know, okay?!"
"…!" Escar flinched at her raised voice, his eyes widening in shock.
Shirley crossed her arms, her frustration spilling out.
"Just looking at you makes me feel sick. I want to throw up!"
"…!"
Escar's heart sank.
His hand trembled as he lowered his pen, his expression crumbling.
"Even now," Shirley added bluntly.
SRUK!
Escar lowered his gaze, hiding the tears that threatened to spill.
"Just remember, I'm definitely going to that party," Shirley said as she rose from her seat.
"The Crown Prince will start imagining all sorts of things if I don't go. I don't want that to happen."
Normally, Escar would have reacted exaggeratedly, such as following her and helping to open the door for her.
But this time, ….
"…?"
… Shirley was confused, to the point that she delayed leaving the room to observe Escar, who was still looking down.
Was he angry because he had been ignored all this time?
Whatever!
"…."
Shirley quickly walked away, leaving Escar behind, wearing a face that said she didn't care.
She didn't even pay attention to Escar, who was still trying to figure out how his beloved wife would react to the reason she had been avoiding him.
•••
"…."
"…."
At this moment, in the gazebo of the Aschenford residence, two men were deep in thought, each accompanied by two other men, enjoying tea and snacks served to them.
They were Escar Aschenford, the host, always accompanied by Sir Bashilian... and Lewin Esclat, the guest who had informed Escar of his arrival, accompanied by his assistant Count Hellington, who often acted casual, even somewhat rude, as though treating a friend.
"…."
"…."
Both of the masters were deep in thought, even though the purpose of their meeting today was to exchange stories.
Their loyal subordinates watched them with blank expressions, unsure of what their masters intended to do, only wishing that the meeting would end quickly.
"Do you think it would be appropriate to hold my wedding the day after the Crown Prince's coronation and wedding?"
Duke Esclat spoke first.
He mentioned his wish to hasten his wedding, something Escar had already been informed of regarding the political nature of Lewin's decision to marry.
"…?"
Escar seemed to think for a moment.
He rested his chin on his hand, then quickly wrote his response.
["In my opinion, it would be better if you held it one month later."]
"One month?! No way! That's way too long! Why must it be that long?!"
["It's just my suggestion. I'm worried that the Crown Prince might feel challenged and see Princess Cherin as a competitor again if you marry so soon after his wedding."]
"…!"
Ah, yes.
Lewin hadn't considered that angle.
Wasn't this the main concern of Cherin Soultherns?
That his future wife was deeply worried about her own life, especially being seen as a target for the Crown Prince in the battle for power?
["Besides, it seems like their wedding celebration will last for quite a while. Don't you know that their celebration will last for seven days and nights?"]
"True," Lewin muttered, nodding thoughtfully.
A moment later, he glanced at Escar, giving his friend a playful thumbs-up, then grinned.
"Thanks for clearing up my thoughts, my friend~!"
In response, Escar gave a faint smile.
"…."
"…."
The conversation wrapped up in just a few minutes.
It felt awkward.
Should Escar share what was on his mind as well?
TUK! TUK!
Eventually, Escar decided to continue the conversation.
He knocked on the table to get Lewin's attention, who was snapped out of his thoughts.
Escar then expressed his unease, asking a question that had been bothering him.
["What do you see in me?"]
"Huh?"
An odd question, and so sudden.
"You mean, what do I see … in you? That's you!" Lewin raised his eyebrows in confusion.
His expression was full of bewilderment.
No matter how hard he thought, the right answer didn't come to him.
Especially when Escar shook his head in rejection, signaling that the answer wasn't right.
"Then, could you explain it more specifically?" suggested the red-haired Duke as he sipped his tea calmly.
["Is it … that my face is really that ugly, …?"]
However, before the tea even reached his stomach, Lewin had no choice.
Immediately, after reading Escar's next question, ….
["… So bad that it makes someone want to vomit just from looking at it?"]
SPRUTH!!
…The tea he had just sipped, sprayed violently right into Escar's face.
"Cough! Cough!"
As Lewin coughed and patted his chest from the shock, Escar, drenched in the tea spray, pouted sadly.
"Puhh!"
It was true.
His face really was that ugly.
"Hufhtt!"
Not just Shirley, who probably wasn't used to seeing his face due to their limited interaction, but even Lewin Esclat, his friend since childhood, who had seen his face for the past 19 years and knew both his good and bad traits, also ended up spitting tea.
"HUAHAHA!"
Just as he recovered from choking, Duke Esclat burst into loud laughter.
"Who? Who said that? Hahaha, the courage … the courage deserves a round of applause!" Lewin teased, his voice trembling from laughter.
"…!"
Escar, upset about being laughed at for something he took seriously, furrowed his brows in frustration.
His fair face, which had been slightly pink, turned completely red, either from embarrassment or anger.
["What's so funny?! This isn't funny!!!"]
"M—mahahaha!"
Still laughing hard, Lewin wiped the corners of his eyes, which had become damp.
Then, after a few moments of trying to calm his laughter, he asked again.
"So, who? Who made you feel ugly because they called you ugly?"
Was it really necessary to emphasize the word "ugly" like that? Escar grew even more frustrated.
However, since he was the one who brought up the issue, he reluctantly continued to express his thoughts.
["My wife."]
PTASS!
"…!"
"…!"
"…!"
It was like being struck by lightning—Lewin Esclat wasn't the only one who froze, but Sir Bashilian and Count Hellington, both of whom were present, also stared with wide eyes.
["She said every time she looks at me, she feels like she's going to vomit."]
"U-uh, …." Lewin stuttered, acting strangely.
["It must be because I'm ugly."]
The Duke kept glancing at Sir Bashilian and Count Hellington alternately, clearly uncomfortable.
It wasn't as Lewin had imagined, was it?
It still wasn't something that could be confirmed, right?
The last time they had spoken a few days ago, Escar had mentioned he had already spent their first night together.
Could it be …?
"Ahem! I don't think she said that intentionally, Your Excellency," Count Hellington interjected.
Well done, Count Hellington!
For the first time, Lewin was grateful to have brought the troublesome Darius Hellington along.
"She's probably in a state of emotional instability, her actions have been aggressive, and sometimes her desires must always be met. If not, she gets angry."
["Huh? How do you know?"]
"My wife also went through the same thing before."
["Really? Do you know what caused it?"]
"…."
"…."
"…."
The three men besides Escar fell silent.
This time, they were sweating coldly, particularly Count Hellington, who was directly asked such an important question.
"Well, …."
Should he just say it outright? But that wouldn't be proper.
If he imagined hearing happy news about his wife from someone else's mouth instead of a professional, like a doctor, … Darius Hellington would be disappointed.
Therefore, for now ….
"… It's better that you ask the Marchioness directly."
… Darius chose to wash his hands of the matter.
"I hope good health and happiness will always bless you."