Rejecting The Perfect Marriage - Chapter 2

“Tell me everything. I want to know exactly what happened.”

Evangeline pressed her hands firmly together in her lap as she summoned Philip, the manager of the merchant fleet. It had been a year since her father departed for Addis in the Eastern Continent, and the time for his return was near—no, she had believed it was. For the sake of her upcoming wedding, he should’ve been preparing to leave for Veliche by now. Instead, he had vanished.

“The ship sank? How could this happen…?”

“I-I’m terribly sorry, young mistress. The news reached us just as suddenly as it did you…”

Philip’s face was ghostly pale, still in shock. He struggled to stay composed, his chest rising and falling in disbelief.

“They say he left Addis two months ago, after wrapping up all business there. But unfortunately, the ship encountered a violent storm in the Lieman Sea…”

“Could there be a mistake? In his last letter, my father wrote that he wouldn’t depart until next month. So how could he have boarded a ship two months ago?”

“H-he wished to surprise you with an county return, my lady… and instructed us not to say anything.”

“…Ah.”

Evangeline clenched her teeth and pressed her fingers to her forehead. Knowing her father’s boisterous nature, she could piece together what had happened. The slim hope that this might be a misunderstanding slowly crumbled away.

“…So it’s true, then.”

“It was such a severe wreck—there seem to be no survivors. Even the discovery of the wreckage came only days later, found by a passing foreign merchant ship…”

“Are you sure?”

“The full circumstances remain unclear. All we know is that the ship sank entirely, and the master went missing…”

Philip lowered his head, crushed by the burden of one devastating report after another. He feared she might break down in tears, but to his surprise, Evangeline remained composed. Her pale-pink eyes blinked slowly, like a living doll—calm and unreadable.

“So… they haven’t found his body, at least.”

“No, but given the circumstances, the odds…”

“Search the surrounding waters and nearby islands immediately. First, we need to confirm if there are any survivors. I also want a full report—how much cargo, how much remains. Everything.”

Her voice was steady and commanding. Though she now stood as the future duchess, she hadn’t forgotten her years at sea aboard merchant ships. She had never directly managed the fleet, but she remembered how things worked.

“Why aren’t you moving?”

“W-well, it’s just…”

But despite her resolve, Philip hesitated, clearly uncomfortable. There was one critical detail she had forgotten.

“…We don’t have the funds for that anymore, my lady.”

◇ ◆ ◇

Senate Chamber, Imperial Palace.

The long table was filled to capacity, with Duke Decarno seated at its center. He silently set down his quill—his subtle way of signaling a short recess after an hour of reviewing agenda items with mechanical precision.

“Shall I bring more tea, Your Grace?”

“No. That’s fine.”

Decarno shook his head at his aide, Mikael. He hadn’t paused for his own sake, but rather because if he didn’t call for a break, half the nobles in the room would keep nodding along without even understanding what was being discussed. As they eagerly left their seats, a man in a naval officer’s uniform slipped in.

“How many hours has it been? You’re definitely living up to the Teze name with all this fuss.”

The comment bordered on insubordination, especially directed at the nominal commander-in-chief of the military, but the man took a seat across from Decarno with easy confidence. Count Thermelton’s eldest son, Phylon, was both a navy colonel and one of Decarno’s few close friends.

“I missed your engagement ceremony, so I figured I’d at least see your face while I was docked. Didn’t expect you to be this cold about it.”

“You’re here for military supply approval.”

“You haven’t even signed the documents yet.”

Decarno’s icy gaze didn’t faze Phylon in the slightest. Reporting to the Senate whenever a navy vessel docked was his duty. Others resented bowing to a civilian duke, but not Phylon—he knew this man was as ruthless and capable as any soldier.

“So, will I finally get to see the next duchess’s face?”

“…Why?”

“So the rumors were true?”

“What rumors?”

“That you’ve fallen so hard for Lady Ohara that you won’t even let her leave the house.”

Decarno didn’t respond. He didn’t even flinch. Phylon folded his arms across his chest with an exasperated grin.

“Come on. If it were anyone else, I might believe it. But not you. When people say you married her for her beauty, I just laugh. You don’t even have the heart for that kind of thing.”

“Get to the point.”

“I just want to see her face.”

Phylon scooted closer, resting his chin in his hand. A faint crack formed in Decarno’s perfectly composed expression, but Phylon didn’t back down.

“Do you know how long it’s been since I last visited? And who knows when I’ll get another leave? I’m your friend, for God’s sake. I should at least meet your fiancée.”

“She’s busy.”

“Damn. If I’d known, I should’ve gone to that party with my sister. I bet she’ll be dressed beautifully—it’s her birthday, after all.”

“…What?”

For the first time, Decarno’s gray eyes wavered. Phylon’s widened in turn.

“Wait—don’t tell me. You didn’t know it was her birthday?”

“Move.”

Decarno dismissed him with irritation, but the crease between his brows didn’t fade. His aide Mikael, watching his master’s expression, stepped forward cautiously.

“My apologies, Your Grace. I assumed Lady Ohara had told you herself…”

“…”

“It’s late, but I’ll prepare an appropriate gift immediately.”

As steward of the household, choosing a gift befitting her rank was his responsibility. Decarno said nothing, which Mikael took as permission before hurrying from the chamber. With just the two of them left, Phylon relaxed further.

“Keep acting that cold, and she’s going to turn on you one day.”

“What now?”

“Do you know how scary women can get when they’re mad? My sister smiled sweetly until the day she divorced her husband. What if Lady Ohara does the same—oh…?”

Tap. Tap.

Phylon’s speech slowed as his eyes drifted to the door. It wasn’t time for the break to end yet, but someone stood in the open doorway—and all he could do was stare.

“Whoa…”

A reflexive gasp escaped his lips. No one needed to introduce her. That face—stunning beyond all reason—spoke for itself.

How she had found her way into a room full of men was a mystery, but one thing was clear: the rumors about the duke locking her away were lies.

With the sharp click of her heels echoing across the black marble, Evangeline pulled back the silver fox-fur hood from her cloak.

“…We need to talk.”

◇ ◆ ◇

“How did you even get here?”

Decarno asked after dismissing Phylon from the room. Despite the relatively safe reputation of Roark, the capital of the Veliche Empire, it was far too late for a woman to be wandering alone. Recalling her usual schedule, the Duke furrowed his brow slightly.

“I thought you’d be enjoying your party by now.”

“Party?”

“It’s your birthday, isn’t it?”

Her response was flat, but her expression betrayed her. Brushing her hair back with a hollow laugh, Evangeline asked:

“So you did know.”

“…Well.”

“Doesn’t matter. That’s not what’s important right now.”

She placed a hand on the table for balance, biting the inside of her cheek in an attempt to stay composed. Misreading her expression, Decarno stood up as well.

“If you’re here because you’re angry about that—”

“Angry?”

“…”

“Forget it. Since when do we care about things like that?”

Half true, half false. A few months ago, she’d thrown him an extravagant birthday banquet herself. But in her eyes, that had simply been expected of her, as someone living under the same roof.

She had never placed much importance on birthdays—especially not her own. All she wanted was to spend it in peace. So even talking about such things now felt strangely empty. Absurd, even.

Or maybe… it just felt better to pretend nothing was wrong.

“I came because I need to talk to you.”

“Now’s not a good time. The session’s about to resume.”

Decarno cast a glance at the door, where the nobles were likely filtering back in.

“Go home for now. As soon as the meeting ends—”

“You won’t be coming back tonight.”

“…What?”

“When the budget sessions open at the start of the month, you don’t come home for days. I know that.”

Evangeline lifted her chin, forcing herself to hold firm. If she didn’t, she might collapse on the spot. Not that this man would bat an eye. But that wasn’t what mattered now.