A boring script—one he had authored himself, where everything unfolded according to his will.
And suddenly, it had spiraled beyond his control.
Calix found himself intensely curious to see what this woman would do next.
"Asella Benvito."
This time, she turned to him obediently.
Looking into her eyes—empty and glittering like blue glass beads—Calix felt an unexpected flicker of joy, though he couldn't understand why. He leaned carefully toward her small ear. This time, she didn't pull away. She simply stood there in silence.
He liked that.
A sophisticated smile curved across his face.
"Then how," he breathed, his lips brushing the delicate shell of her ear, his voice so low that only she could hear, "are you going to celebrate the *premiere*?"
He felt her body go rigid beneath his hands. He touched her chin again—gently this time, using only his fingertips—and felt the tremors begin anew, rippling through her like waves across still water.
Her blue eyes had darkened now, resembling bottomless pools, yet they continued to dart about, unable to settle on anything. Calix recognized something in that strange, wandering sadness. He offered her a reassuring smile.
It only made things worse.
"Why such a reaction?" His voice dropped to a murmur. "Did you think marriage was child's play?"
"No. I..."
Her soft lips parted invitingly. Her voice—quiet, sweet—wrapped around him like a warm wave, filling the space between them.
_That's exactly how she sounded before the ceremony..._
But she fell silent again, refusing to utter another word.
Calix felt a twinge of disappointment.
"Still refusing?"
Her eyes flickered. She shook her head.
"...N-no..."
Those lips again. He couldn't tear his gaze away. Slowly, he released her chin and cupped her small head in both hands, his palms cradling her face with unexpected gentleness.
Asella's eyes widened at the tender movement. It seemed impossible—such softness from someone so cold-blooded that ice might flow through his veins instead of hot blood.
"We have to please the audience," he said simply.
"...?"
"If you're so frightened, you can close your eyes."
---
Asella obeyed.
The moment darkness surrounded her, everything felt easier. Better. At least she wouldn't have to *watch* him kiss her.
Calix took the opportunity to examine her properly.
She was small—barely reaching his chest. Unlike her mother, Adele Charts, who had possessed an impressive, stately presence, Asella seemed as though she might vanish from his grasp at any moment. He remembered holding her hand as they walked down the aisle. There had been no strength in that grip; he had felt every fragile joint, every delicate bone. And when he'd caught her by the waist to prevent her fall, he had wondered—had Philip been *starving* her?
Perhaps because she rarely went outside, her skin was unusually pale. Almost translucent. Her face, with its delicate, flawless features, looked almost childlike. Thick silver lashes framed her beautiful eyelids like fine embroidery. A smooth forehead. Elegant brows. A straight, graceful nose. The faintest blush dusting her cheeks. Soft lips of natural scarlet.
She was a very beautiful woman. Elegant. Ethereal.
"Your Highness," the priest called out, barely audible.
For some reason, Calix suddenly felt uneasy.
"Seal your union with a kiss," the holy man prompted.
Calix reluctantly tore his gaze from Asella and turned toward the priest. "A kiss? The marriage is already consummated by vow, is it not? The kiss is merely a formality."
"But—" The priest's protest died in his throat under that murderous gaze.
The holy father had the distinct impression that if he continued to insist, his body would be collected in pieces across Mount Kelton by tomorrow morning.
---
Asella couldn't help but overhear their exchange. Perhaps because her eyes were closed, her other senses had sharpened. To her surprise, his large hands felt warm against her skin—far more gentle than when he had led her down the aisle.
Calix looked at her face again, finding himself wanting to see those quiet blue lakes hidden beneath her eyelids.
"Just say so," he murmured. "If you don't like it."
She only shook her head from side to side.
"You won't regret it?"
Another shake. Negative.
Every time her cheek brushed against his palm, Calix felt a burning sensation spread through his skin. She continued to resist—making it perfectly clear she didn't want this. But she made no sound. She merely shook her head, her mouth pressed firmly shut, unconsciously trying to pull away.
She was proving even more stubborn than he had anticipated.
Calix decided it was best to finish this quickly.
As he leaned down and brought his face close to hers, Asella was struck by the overwhelming scent of him—sweet, intoxicating, so strong her head began to spin. She fought desperately to maintain her composure.
A heartbeat later, she felt hot lips press against her forehead.
Disappointed cries rose from the crowd, but they were quickly drowned out. A moment later, the garden filled with thunderous applause once more.
Asella's eyes flew open. She stared at the man in stunned disbelief.
But he had already turned to face the guests.
"I think we should respect the bride's shyness," he announced, bestowing upon the audience a masterfully crafted smile. Then he turned back to her, his voice dropping low. "Even if this is a performance, I think you should play your part with dignity. If only for your own sake."
---
Asella stared at him, momentarily stunned.
But the confusion lasted only a heartbeat. As Calix had said—this was a necessity. She had been sold as a commodity. Nothing more. But in the eyes of public opinion, everything had to appear different.
_Love and affection—that's the supposed foundation of marriage. And if they don't exist, they can be fabricated. The main thing is to make it look decent. Who needs truth? People want a beautiful illusion._
So Asella would play her part as the joyful newlywed.
Very well.
She would.
Carefully, she took the man's arm.
"All right," she said quietly. "I'll play it for Your Highness."
"For *me*?"
"Of course." Asella let her gaze drift across the assembled guests, her expression serene.
Calix laughed softly—then unexpectedly wrapped his arms around her from behind.
Her fragile body sank completely into his embrace. She felt his solid chest press against her back through the thin fabric of her gown. Her vision darkened with an inexplicable, dizzying sensation, and the ground seemed to vanish beneath her feet.
"You should be more careful," Calix whispered against her ear, tightening his hold to keep her from collapsing. He lowered his head further, resting his chin on her narrow shoulder. "I think you should try even harder."
Asella's heart hammered wildly against her ribs. The sensation of another body pressed so close to hers was entirely foreign. She was completely at a loss, unsure how to handle this awkward intimacy.
Noticing her distress, Calix clicked his tongue softly.
"Perhaps I shouldn't have done that." His voice sparkled with mischief.
But Asella, still reeling from shock, didn't notice his teasing tone at all.
"...Oh... no..." She struggled to compose herself. "It's just... a little awkward."
She drew a deep breath. Then another. Trying desperately to calm her frightened heart.
Calix observed her efforts, and a genuine smile spread across his face.
"Are you ready, my lady?"
"...Yes."
He slowly released his grip on her waist, stepped back to stand beside her, and offered his hand with natural grace. Asella took his arm carefully. When their physical contact resumed, she felt herself losing touch with reality once more.
His body temperature was much higher than expected.
"Asella."
She held her breath at the sound of her name on his lips. It stirred something strange within her—something she couldn't name. She raised her head to meet his gaze.
"Come," he said. "Everyone is waiting."
Asella nodded and turned to face the guests.
A beautiful, radiant smile slowly illuminated her face—like a ray of sunlight dancing across the silvery surface of the sea. It was the smile of the happiest bride in the world.
---
## — The Banquet —
A lavish banquet followed the ceremony.
This was a union between the most powerful families in the Empire. The nobles present represented the highest echelons of Garmanian society—the most influential aristocratic houses, foreign ambassadors, and the Emperor's personal confidants, all arriving with elaborate congratulations and extravagant gifts.
Among them were those who sought to establish closer ties with the Archduke.
However, rather than approaching the Grand Duke himself—whose very presence made many feel physically ill—these shrewd individuals preferred to make contact with his petite new wife. Her delicate appearance inspired far more trust than her husband's terrifying reputation.
_Why not charm the mistress of the Benvito household? Perhaps through her, they could eventually approach the Archduke himself._
There were several reasons for this calculated behavior. But most likely, the precious tiara crowning Asella's head played a significant role.
"My God! Just *look* at that treasure! I never thought I'd see the *Glory of the Goddess* at a wedding!"
"What do you mean?"
"They say he simply *gave* it to her—as an engagement gift."
"That can't be! It's a family heirloom!"
"Precisely!"
"I think we shouldn't trust such rumors..."
---
Asella Charts.
Rumors about her—now Asella *Benvito*—had been circulating even before the marriage.
Aristocrats were a peculiar breed: people who cultivated an image of nobility while secretly loving gossip more than anyone else. At every social event, they would select some unfortunate soul to dissect and discuss. Sometimes simple gossip escalated into vicious condemnation, capable of destroying a reputation entirely.
Asella made the perfect victim simply because she had managed to capture the most desirable groom in the Garmanian Empire.
Naturally, all manner of rumors swirled around her—even the most sordid.
For example: that she had come to this marriage without a dowry.
"What do you think? Why would the Benvito family agree to a *dowryless* marriage?"
Word of Philip's refusal to provide a dowry had leaked from servants at Charts Manor. As Asella had expected, this revelation only inflamed public curiosity further.
"Do you suppose they had... *something*... before the wedding?"
"Perhaps His Highness truly does..."
"But he only kissed her on the forehead?"
"So? Perhaps he simply didn't want everyone to see."
"Exactly. Have you *ever* seen him in such a good mood?"
"I was just thinking the same thing."
"Well, the newspapers claimed it was love at first sight."
"And you *believe* that? I read that article too, but I have my doubts."
---
Marriages not based on political convenience were extraordinarily rare among the nobility. Relationships founded on genuine love were so uncommon that when they occurred, they became the subject of endless discussion.
Yet many who had witnessed Calix and Asella's kiss found themselves inclined to believe that perhaps—just *perhaps*—this union was truly one of love.
Grand Duke Calix Benvito was renowned for his cold-bloodedness, his cruelty, his ruthlessness in resolving any matter. But for *this* woman, he had made an exception.
That single fact alone was enough to warrant serious consideration for the new Grand Duchess.
---