"When you concealed your noble origins and took a position in this castle... you must have had a goal. Didn't you?"
"H-how did you—*hic.*"
Gerald leaned back in his chair, his scarlet lips parting in a slow, knowing smile.
"If you truly believed you could so easily deceive the House of Duke Vines... would you call yourself naive? Or merely foolish?"
"I'm sorry." Marin's voice came out small, defeated. "It's my fault. I needed the money, and I—"
She admitted her guilt without resistance.
"So you infiltrated the Duke's household for *money?*"
Gerald tilted his head toward her, gauging her reaction.
"...I didn't *infiltrate.*" Her voice dropped to a timid mutter. "I simply... applied for a position."
"And you came to serve at my side—also for money?"
"...I didn't *pester* you." A note of wounded pride crept into her trembling voice. "I *helped* you."
"And you whispered in my ear—also for money?"
"...I whispered because you don't like loud voices."
She was so earnest. So completely oblivious to the fact that he was teasing her.
Gerald found himself smiling.
"So. Everything you've done has been for money?"
"...Yes."
"Then how much do you need?"
"...What do you mean?"
"I told you." His voice was calm, matter-of-fact. "Let's get engaged. How much would you accept for a contractual engagement?"
"*Wha-a-at?*"
"Briefly."
She lowered her voice immediately, though it still wavered with confusion:
"Forgive my stupidity, Your Grace, but I don't understand—"
"You said you liked living in the ducal castle, didn't you?" Gerald's tone turned silken. "Congratulations. Now you may continue living where you like."
"Come to think of it... perhaps I don't like it *quite* that much..."
"Really?" He tilted his head, feigning contemplation. "I wonder where we send those who deceive the ducal hou—"
"*But!*" Marin's voice shot up. "The *best* place is, of course, the Duke's castle! Did I mention that before? That I wish to bury my bones here?"
"No. I don't believe you have."
Gerald chuckled, no longer bothering to hide his amusement.
"There—I must have forgotten to say it! Until I give up my soul to God within these beautiful and wondrous walls, I shall serve with all my heart and—"
"Bones are not required." He cut her off mid-declaration. "I need a bride."
"...Purely theoretically speaking—do I have the right to refuse?"
"What do you think?"
It was the exact same answer he had given when she'd asked if she could change her wish.
Marin's shoulders slumped.
"...No."
*Instead of punishing me for my deception, he demands a contractual engagement.*
*An engagement for hire.*
The phrase felt impossibly strange. And yet... in her previous life, hadn't she read countless novels about fake marriages and sham engagements?
*But this is real. This was never supposed to happen.*
Suppressing the urge to tear at her hair, Marin timidly raised one hand.
"I have a question."
"Ask."
"Since when did you know I was a noblewoman? And why have you tolerated it until now?"
"From the very beginning." His smile sharpened. "The one who deceived me is now asking why her deception wasn't discovered sooner?"
His expression made Marin shrink into mortified silence.
An awkward pause stretched between them.
She raised her hand again—smaller this time, more hesitant.
"Then... may I ask why you wish to m-marry me—no, a *contractual* engagement? If Your Grace announced a proposal, every young lady in the West would accept."
"I need a *temporary* bride." Gerald's voice was smooth, unhurried. "And nearby, there happens to be a noblewoman working *temporarily.* One who is also guilty of something—daring to deceive the Duke."
"Wow," Marin muttered under her breath. "Whoever that is sounds like the perfect candidate."
A beat passed.
*Oh. That's me.*
She suppressed a sob. The weight of her guilt pressed down on her chest.
"My nephews will be arriving soon."
"...Yes."
Duke Vines would become their guardian. She knew this much.
"They will need someone to guide them. And the eldest—Daya—requires a chaperone for her debut."
*A new job.* Suddenly, it loomed directly before her.
"Excuse me, Your Grace—are you perhaps confusing a *governess* with a *bride?*" Marin ventured carefully. "That does happen... sometimes."
*It absolutely does not happen.*
But when the highest authority in the room was speaking nonsense, one had to play along.
"Temporary." His voice dropped, dangerously soft. "Do I strike you as the kind of person who would confuse one with the other?"
*Telepathy! He can definitely read minds!*
Marin shot him a wary sideways glance and pressed both palms protectively against her chest—as though she could physically shield her thoughts from him.
"I have many enemies."
"...Yes."
She shifted awkwardly, unsure how to respond to such a sudden confession.
"Therefore, we will celebrate the engagement *lavishly.*"
"*Wha-a-at?*"
Accepting a hired engagement was already difficult enough to swallow. Now there would be a *lavish reception* on top of it?
He spoke of enemies—and then immediately of grand celebrations?
Was the Duke in his right mind?
He had only just lost his sister. And now he wanted to throw a magnificent engagement ball?
High society would say the Duke had no respect for the deceased Count and Countess—that he was consumed by lust for some woman.
Marin stared at him, dumbfounded.
Then a chilling thought crept through her mind.
*What if the Count and Countess's deaths weren't an accident?*
*What if they were killed by his enemies?*
In the novel, their deaths had been mentioned only in passing—a mere accident. She had assumed the same.
But if they had been *murdered*—then by whom? The Imperial faction? The Aristocratic party?
Marin gazed at the Duke with newfound pity, searching his shadowed face.
"So you enjoy lavish celebrations?"
*Why can't you read minds at times like these?!*
"No!"
Marin shook her head so vigorously her hair swung.
"What a violent reaction."
The corners of his lips twitched—then smoothed back to their usual expression.
"That's how people normally react when they're surprised," she muttered, pouting.
"Temporary." His voice turned thoughtful. "Why do you think I want a lavish celebration?"
He was testing her. She could feel it.
*The children are arriving soon. The Duke has many enemies. He plans to throw an extravagant reception for the engagement.*
Marin spoke carefully, piecing her thoughts together aloud:
"...To protect the children."
Gerald said nothing. His silence invited her to continue.
"So that your enemies don't target them directly. So that all eyes remain fixed on *you,* Your Grace."
He nodded—a single, satisfied inclination of his head.
"You would make an excellent spy."
"I'm really *not* a spy," Marin whispered, stung. The very word made her stomach clench with dread.
"If you were a real spy, you wouldn't be here anymore."
His casual tone sent a chill crawling down her neck. Marin shivered and rubbed the back of her head.
"But... one thing worries me." She hesitated. "The children have only just lost their parents. When they arrive and see a lavish celebration... they might misunderstand Your Grace's intentions."
"But we will deceive our enemies all the better."
Marin opened her mouth—then closed it again.
She simply looked at him.
*What matters most to him isn't whether his nephews will understand. It's how best to protect them.*
Behind the cold exterior, she glimpsed something she had barely noticed before: a heart that valued family above all else.
"Only you and I will know the truth about this engagement, Temporary."
"Yes."
"The arrangement will last until the conclusion of Daya's debut season. Payment is ten gold pieces per day."
"*W-what?*"
*That much?!* she nearly blurted—but swallowed the words just in time.
She had no right to refuse this engagement anyway.
If, in exchange for her forgiveness, she could also earn substantial wages... that was profitable, wasn't it?
Marin resolved to view everything as positively as possible.
"Temporary."
His low voice deepened further, resonant and grave.
"Yes."
"From now on—do not leave my side."
"...I'm sorry?"
Marin stared at the Duke's serious expression, confusion plain on her face.
"I would say 'don't disappear from my sight'..." A bitter smile flickered across his lips and vanished. "...but I cannot see."
"..."
She didn't know how to comfort him. So she chose silence.
"I will protect you." His voice was heavy, unyielding—a vow carved in stone. "I promise."
*He said he would throw a lavish celebration so his enemies would believe his nephews weren't important to him.*
*Which means... I will become the target.*
The Duke was the most powerful man in the empire—but right now, he couldn't see. He had likely calculated that it was easier to protect one false bride than four vulnerable children.
Marin looked at him.
Then she smiled—bright and genuine.
"Okay!"
*Vines protects.*
*I trust him.*