13. On the Bed, the First Night (1)  

The maids came to help me bathe, and as evening fell, I headed to the bridal chamber. Lady Ygret, who had arrived earlier and was waiting, bowed her head upon seeing me.  

“This isn’t an apology for what happened earlier, but this is a room we’ve prepared with great care even before your arrival. I believe it’s more than fitting to commemorate your first night in the Inkheart family.”  

Though it was the cold northern region, the room was warm enough to forget the weather outside, and it was lavishly decorated with fresh flowers whose source I couldn’t even guess.  

The curtains and hangings were adorned in the two colors symbolizing the Poche’s estate, and the bedspread was intricately embroidered with the crests of both the Poche and Inkheart families.  

‘Well, they’ve really gone all out.’  

Where on earth did they find those flowers in this winter? In the north, where greenhouses are nearly non-existent. Did they hastily pull those hangings and bedspread from my dowry?  

Crossing the threshold, I could feel the vivid essence of the southern region.  

“Lady Ygret.” 

I said with a smile.  

“I cannot sleep in this room.”  

It was a bridal chamber as bright and beautiful as a scene from a fairy tale.  

But this was an exquisitely crafted mockery.  

“Madam, is there something you’re dissatisfied with?” 

Lady Ygret asked anxiously.  

“We were informed of your arrival on short notice, so the preparations might be somewhat lacking. If you let us know, we’ll bring whatever is missing immediately.”  

“No, no. The preparations are perfect. If the theme of this room is ‘the south’ and ‘Marquis Poche’s estate,’ that is.”  

It was so perfect that it etched into my mind that I was a woman from Marquis Poche’s estate who married into the family.  

“Changing the room’s decorations in haste would be difficult, wouldn’t it? Let’s do this instead. I won’t sleep in this room tonight. How about I stay in the Grand Duke’s room for now? Surely, it won’t have such decorations.”  

“But Lady Annette, it’s unprecedented for the Grand Duchess to leave her own room and stay in the Grand Duke’s room right after the wedding…”  

“I’ve left the Poche estate and married into the Inkheart family. The Poche estate is no longer the most important thing to me. The first priority in everything is now the Inkheart family.”  

If Rose Temeri wanted to maintain her position as the villainess, she should have genuinely learned from her mentor.  

By preparing this room, the people in the castle would have firmly ingrained in their minds that the new Grand Duchess was ‘southern’ and ‘from the Poche family.’

If I stayed in this room, the rumors flying around the castle the next morning would be predictable.  

〈Hey, did you hear? That southern woman spent her first night with the Grand Duke.〉  

Everyone dislikes outsiders. And if that outsider stands out, even more so.  

This room’s arrangement was perfect for losing goodwill.  

“The roots of the Grand Duchess lie in the Poche family.”  

“A newlywed bride should adorn herself with the decorations of her husband’s family.”  

Not to submit to patriarchy, but as a signal of future integration.  

If they truly cared for me, the room should have been decorated with symbols of the north and the Inkheart family.  

“It seems you didn’t have time to consider that while preparing in such haste. Since you said it was done with sincerity, I won’t blame you.”  

Rose Temeri, who doesn’t even reach my chest in height, is laughable.  

The truly frightening person is someone like this. Someone who can ostracize the new Grand Duchess without a single harsh word.  

“Clear it out.”  

Turning my back coldly, I left the room.  

* * *  

Crash.  

Unable to contain her anger, Ygret flung a vase far away. The fully bloomed flowers were crushed on the floor.  

“That southern wench isn’t as easy as I thought.”  

She had always feared who Darius’s new bride might be. So when it was decided that the eldest daughter of the southern Marquis Poche’s estate, which had bad relations with the north, would be the bride, she was delighted.  

Upon investigation, she found that even in her own family, the bride wasn’t loved.  

A powerless girl who seemed easy to manipulate.  

She thought that bringing such a woman as Darius’s wife would allow her to continue managing the household as she always had.  

“Darius bringing that woman to this castle was the first mistake. Hmph, she may be full of spirit now, but soon…”  

Soon, yes, very soon.  

Ygret bit her lip as she whispered to herself.  

“My goodness! Lady Ygret, what happened to the room? And more importantly, you might hurt yourself. Let me clean up the vase for you…”  

A maid stood behind Ygret, unaware of what she was witnessing.  

Gasp.  

When one is too shocked, even a scream doesn’t come out.  

“Oh dear, it’s you.”  

Ygret smiled faintly and covered the maid’s mouth as the maid stared at her blankly. The shadow of her rounded fingertips on the wall stretched long and sharp.  

“Shh.”  

Click. The door was locked.  

The cold, dark northern night now had one more chilling shadow added to it, unnoticed.  

* * *  

Thump, thump. The cushions are nice and soft.  

Thud, thud. The floor is plush.  

“Did you personally hunt the bear whose skin is laid on the floor?”  

“…It’s been passed down since the previous generation.”  

The place I headed to, having rejected the overly southern-decorated Grand Duchess’s room, was Darius’s room.  

A plush carpet that sank to the ankles. A somewhat gloomy wall lined with hunting decorations. But at least the burning fireplace was warm.  

“My lord, my lady, we wish you both a pleasant time. We’ll take our leave now.”  

“Enjoy your time together.”  

The maids smiled excessively. Clearing their throats, their faces turned red as they coughed.  

“We won’t disturb you until morning, so don’t worry.”  

“Madam, no need to be nervous. If you’re unsure, just leave everything to the lord.”  

The faces of Darius and I, the subjects of all these suggestive expectations, were pale.  

‘Disturb us! Burst in! Show hostility because a woman from an enemy family has come! If we so much as move on the bed, act like something monumental has happened!’  

Darius and I sat back-to-back in gloomy silence. The atmosphere was such that if either of us made the slightest move, I might scream at the top of my lungs.  

The first night. What even is a first night? Couldn’t we just play a game of dice or something?  

“……”  

“……”  

Sweat pooled in the fists I hid behind my back.  

Alright, if Darius so much as moves a finger toward me, I’ll punch him in the face with this fist.  

Maybe he’d pass out, and they’d mistakenly think we consummated our marriage.  

Ugh. Damn this transmigrator’s fate! I’ll curse it three times a day every time I think about it!  

In truth, this wasn’t the first time Darius and I had slept in the same space.  

The journey from the Marquis Poche’s estate to the Inkheart territory was long, and we camped out for several nights.  

We traveled in the same carriage from the start, but I hadn’t expected to spend the nights together in it, too, and I turned red at the thought.  

〈I’ll stay in the tent with the knights. You stay in the carriage, Annette.〉  

〈Are you trying to make me look like a heartless wife who kicks her husband out right after marriage? …It’s fine, just sleep over there. Way over there. And don’t move.〉  

In the dark night, the sound of an owl crying came through the carriage window. If I opened my eyes, I could see his face lying straight across from me.  

During the day, the carriage had seemed spacious, but at night, it suddenly felt suffocatingly small, as if even the sound of breathing could be heard.  

Alone in an enclosed space with a man.  

‘If, if… something were to happen… would I be able to refuse? He’s the male lead, after all. And so handsome.’  

If someone had seen me then, my face would have been as red as a ripe tomato.  

After all, in cheerful romance novels for all ages, these scenes are always subtle and glossed over. Could I handle the real situation?  

Every time he moved even slightly, my heartbeat raced, and when Darius finally threw off his blanket and got up, I was so tense I felt like screaming.  

‘No, no! Maybe he’s just thirsty or something!’  

Despite my denial, he leaned toward me.  

I silently screamed, pretending to sleep, unable to open my eyes.  

‘Not in the carriage!’  

Not in the carriage!  

〈Mmm…! (At least wait until there’s a bed!)〉  

〈You’ll catch a cold if you sleep with such a thin blanket.〉  

Rustle.  

What covered me then wasn’t his burning-hot lips. It was the lukewarm blanket he had just been using.  

〈Huh…? (What’s this?)〉  

Even with my squinting eyes, I couldn’t read Darius’s expression.  

Eventually, he even pinched my nose between his fingers and twisted it.  

〈Ugh… (I’m awake! I’m awake, but I can’t say it!)〉  

〈Your nose is small. So are your hands, your feet, your whole body. Are all southern women this small?>  

‘Is he insulting me? Is he saying I look like a cicada clinging to a tree compared to his large frame or what?’  

Tap.  

Before I could wake up and snap at him, Darius lightly tapped the tip of my nose and returned to his spot.  

Then, without covering himself with any blanket, he went back to sleep.  

Much later, when I thought he was asleep, I woke up and was bewildered to find two blankets covering me.  

〈Is he saying he doesn’t even catch colds…〉  

A pointless fuss and two blankets. That was my real memory of the first night.  

‘Nothing happened in the carriage, so today too!’  

…But come to think of it, in the carriage, we were in transit, and today is the official first night. If something is going to happen, it’s going to be today, right?

The two selves within me began to argue.