What Remains in the Damaged Place - Side story 1 (1)

The weddings of House Justitia had always drawn immense attention.

The wedding of Valderion’s father, the previous Duke of Justitia, took place at the Great Hall of the Imperial Palace, a venue usually reserved for grand banquets, all for the convenience of the Imperial Family.

Going further back, the wedding of the Duke before him was held at the magnificent Great Temple, its sunlight reflecting off the walls in radiant splendor.

Like these grand events, the name “Justitia” had the power to transform even a family ceremony into a national spectacle.

Groups of nobles, and even commoners who would normally dismiss such affairs as distant, unimportant, found these weddings to be rare spectacles worth watching.

So when news broke that the Duke’s upcoming wedding would not be held at a rented venue and would be as private as possible, murmurs of disappointment rippled through the public.

The temple where the Duke’s grandfather had married even sent a discreet letter, just a month before the wedding, asking if there was any chance the decision might be reconsidered. This was largely because the temple’s revenue relied heavily on donations, which tended to spike after such grand events.

The image of the Duke and Duchess riding through the city in a carriage adorned with soft pink roses after their wedding at the temple had left an indelible impression, as if divinely blessed. This had led to an influx of new converts, which in turn bolstered the temple’s funds.

Of course, they had to give up hope after receiving a firm rejection from Valderion. The wedding was to remain private.

For Valderion, one thing was most important regarding this wedding: Lirette’s well-being.

Unlike his parents’ time, Valderion meticulously managed every detail, from the guest list to the seating arrangements, to ensure a calm and safe environment for Lirette.

However, it didn’t seem fitting for her to suddenly appear as the Duke’s bride without any prior introduction. So, Valderion had arranged small, private luncheons with families he trusted, using the opportunity to introduce Lirette to those closest to him.

Fortunately, the families Valderion chose were skilled in diplomacy. Despite their private thoughts on the sudden reinstatement of the House of Blewit, they treated Lirette with the same respect they would show to any noblewoman, careful not to provoke Valderion in any way.

***

On the day of the wedding, the greatest burden fell on the Duke’s knights.

Though the ceremony was almost entirely private, the curiosity of the masses was insatiable. Crowds gathered at the gates, growing larger by the hour. As invited guests arrived in carriages, some onlookers tried to sneak in among them. The knights were busy from early morning, chasing off intruders.

And that wasn’t the only issue.

The Duke’s estate was surrounded by the vast Alter Forest, and while the forest was dense and expansive, it wasn’t impossible to traverse. Some dared to attempt sneaking into the estate through the thick trees.

“They say ten people have already been caught.”

“What?”

“Ten people who tried to sneak through the forest and got caught by the knights. They were thrown out without mercy.”

The speaker, Valderion’s cousin Roziela, parted the curtains as she spoke in a low voice, as if suspecting someone might still be trying to sneak in.

Lirette glanced at Roziela through the mirror and forced an awkward smile.

The restoration of House Blewit had been executed flawlessly, with Emperor Laegis and Valderion at the forefront. But the matter had been classified as a state secret the moment it was carried out, sealing it under the highest level of confidentiality.

“It’s because of the Name.”

Valderion had explained it simply, cutting straight to the point.

Yes, the Name.

The strange, fateful connection between them. Once, it had seemed like a cruel joke played by the gods, but over time, it had revealed itself as something inevitable, a stepping stone leading to their fate.

House Justitia remained as powerful as ever, and that power had to be preserved. That meant keeping the matter of the Name from leaking to the outside world. As a result, very few people in the empire knew the true nature of Valderion and Lirette’s relationship.

Roziela had been summoned to the capital from the port city of Fellini, where she managed a vast trading company, to assist with the wedding for this very reason.

The Name was an undeniable mark, something that couldn’t be erased.

The black words engraved on each other’s skin—no matter how deep the flesh was cut or peeled away, the mark of fate would remain.

For the wedding, especially, a trusted hand was needed to help Lirette with the preparations, as no one else could be allowed to see the place where Valderion’s Name was engraved on her body. Thus, Roziela had been called.

Lirette recalled her first meeting with Roziela.

“You must be Lirette. I’ve heard a lot about you. Pleased to meet you.”

She had been struck by Roziela’s resemblance to Valderion—not just in their faces, but in her tall, graceful figure and bold, sensual presence.

Unlike most noblewomen, Roziela’s work running the trading company often took her into tough situations, and her personality reflected that. She was bold and straightforward, grabbing Lirette’s hand in a firm shake when they first met.

At first, Lirette had been a bit overwhelmed, but thanks to Roziela’s friendly nature, she had quickly relaxed over the few days they spent together.

***

“All this fuss for a wedding?” Lirette asked, adjusting the lace on her dress.

Roziela laughed lightly. “Of course.”

The rumors had spread far and wide.

Roziela gazed thoughtfully at Lirette’s pale, porcelain face in the mirror. Over the past few days, she had noticed Lirette’s sensitivity, how easily she reacted to things. Yet, despite her nervous demeanor, there was an air of innocence about her, as though she had been kept away from the world outside.

Roziela couldn’t help but feel slightly exasperated.

She knew this wasn’t Lirette’s doing—it was Valderion’s influence, cutting off all outside information and sheltering her from everything.

With the restoration of House Blewit kept secret, people’s curiosity had only grown.

When the news of the wedding broke, rumors solidified. The gossip ranged from baseless speculation to oddly specific tales. After all, society was filled with people who loved nothing more than to talk about others.

And House Justitia wasn’t just any noble house.

It was one of the most powerful families in the empire, second only to the Imperial Family itself. Any information about them was valuable, sometimes even profitable. As a result, many sought to uncover the reason behind the wedding and the reinstatement of House Blewit.

But because security had been so tight, no details had leaked, leading to even wilder speculation.

One of the more absurd, yet strangely convincing, rumors that had surfaced was that Lirette was some kind of enchantress.

Apparently…

‘Her beauty is so overwhelming that the Duke fell hopelessly in love with her at first sight.’

Roziela examined Lirette’s face from different angles. It was a face that could indeed spark such rumors—beautiful beyond dispute.

The problem was that people’s curiosity had reached such heights that they no longer saw Lirette as just a beautiful woman, but rather as some kind of sorceress who had cast a spell on the Duke.

And so, the true purpose of many trying to catch a glimpse of the wedding was to see for themselves if this “sorceress” truly existed.

“Well, once today is over, the rumors will settle. They always do. The guests at the wedding will spread the truth, and that’ll be the end of it,” Roziela said with a shrug, moving behind Lirette to finish brushing her hair.

As she felt the comb glide through her hair, Lirette swallowed nervously.

Roziela was preparing to place the veil over her head, a clear sign that the wedding was about to begin.

“Are you nervous?”

“I… I’ve never been in this kind of situation before. Even the birthday banquet my family hosted before my debut wasn’t this grand.”

“Relax. Everything will be fine. It’ll work out.”

Roziela’s nonchalant words, though almost dismissive, had a calming effect. In moments like this, when one was overwhelmed, having someone nearby who didn’t share the same anxiety was often helpful.

“Besides, you’ve got Valderion. You know he’d never let anything ruin his wedding.”

There was a hint of both praise and exasperation in her tone, making Lirette laugh softly. As her faint smile faded, Roziela finished her work and stepped back.

“Alright, let’s go.”

Roziela’s voice was filled with determination.

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Lirette rose from the sofa. The delicate white veil, adorned with lace, swayed gently as she moved, as if urging her forward.

With her vision obscured by the veil, Lirette moved with the help of Roziela. As she cautiously held the railing and descended the stairs, she came to a halt at the sight below.

Through the delicate, white lace of her veil, she could make out a dark figure.

Despite having shared the same bed just last night and exchanged words that morning, Valderion now felt oddly unfamiliar to her.

A gust of spring wind swept through the open doors.

Valderion, dressed immaculately in black formal attire, stood perfectly still, his hair so neatly arranged that the breeze didn’t disturb it.

Sensing her presence, he looked up. Even through the veil, Lirette could feel his gaze meeting hers, sending a subtle shiver down her spine.

It was astonishing, really.

The nervousness that had been swelling in her chest just moments ago, when she left the dressing room, seemed to melt away under the weight of his presence.

As if acknowledging her change, Valderion’s lips curved into a smile.

His long arm, which had been resting behind his back, extended toward the staircase where she stood, beckoning her to come closer.

It was almost as if he were saying, Come on, take my hand.

‘Remember, you have Valderion,’ Roziela’s words echoed in her ears.

Yes.

Lirette’s white heels stepped down onto the next stair. The sound of her steps echoed, loosening the tightness in her throat.

‘It’ll work out somehow.’

It always did.

***