Interlude: The Wedding of Melujène

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I am Melujène Baronne d’Emmental.

Not long ago, I formally exchanged vows with Lord Cain, son of the Count of Emmental, and thus became his wife.

Yet this marriage has left a lingering sorrow within me.

Please allow me to share a grievance I have never before spoken aloud...

The decision to marry was made just before I reached my majority.

To be honest, I was utterly astonished to be chosen...

Lord Cain was a man greatly admired.

Master Cain is the name that feels most natural, as he was the one who taught me during my time at the academy.

Master Cain is a nobleman of exquisite grace—his hair soft and chestnut, his eyes the clear blue of a Gracespine gem. He bears the presence of a prince from a storybook, and is spoken of as a genius in magic. His lineage is noble, though not of the highest rank; his family has held the title of count since the founding of the realm, and though he bears the rank of count, he is the eldest son of a great noble house entrusted with vast lands. My own family is of the marquisate, but compared to the Emmental house, we are but a minor house—so when we received word of the betrothal, our household was thrown into great celebration.

A young prodigy in magic, heir to a great noble house, already granted a barony, known for his handsome countenance and devotion to family—no idle gossip circulated about him, yet he remained unmarried past twenty. When asked why such a desirable match had not found a bride, one might suspect a flaw in his character. Yet during his time at the academy, no such flaw was apparent.

Later, I learned he had found his research so captivating that he had little interest in love.

Indeed, though teachers often seemed to attract affection from female students during my time at school, if such attention lay beyond his interest, then his distant manner became understandable.

I, too, was among those who received that distant regard. The teacher who led our orientation before my enrollment at the academy—back then, I was but a student, drawn to a senior, and secretly cherished him in silence.

The handkerchief bearing my teacher’s initials, which I dared to pierce during practice—simply seeing it was enough to make me recoil, unable to accept it… Still, it remains a sorrowful memory.

Whether aware or not, during my time at the academy, I recall receiving letters sent from my home to my teacher’s residence on several occasions.

It was at the time when I had begun to consider giving up and reconsidering other marriage proposals—when, on a spring day near graduation, I was informed of my engagement to the Earl of Emmental.

Afterward, days filled with preparations for the engagement and graduation ceremonies, envy and slander from female students who admired my teacher, constant scrutiny of the next countess, and more… each day a torment to my stomach.

Even after a safe graduation, following the engagement ceremony, I endured the bridal training under the late countess in the Emmental estate—alone in an unfamiliar land, overwhelmed by anxiety, burdened by an endless pile of tasks, mountains of paperwork, and a fiancé who failed to understand me.

I had not realized I had sent a letter to Spica, now my stepsister, until I found myself doing so.

Though the contents were bitter with resentment, the response was deeply moving.

The letter, tender and comforting, became my talisman—its pages a compendium of guidance I had received from the former Countess. More than anything, it offered me a chance to face Cain, my betrothed—no, Cain-sama—with honesty.

For I had never been close to matters of love, and so Cain-sama did not understand the heart of a woman.

Several days after receiving Spica-sama’s letter,

I was startled to hear Cain-sama ask, with solemn seriousness,

“Would Miss Melujene enjoy receiving flowers? Or perhaps sharing tea?”

“Of course,” I replied, “if they come from you, I would be delighted. To share tea with you would be a joy.”

I replied, and then whispered, “Enough with ‘teacher’—I am your betrothed, after all. It is time you called me by name.” I flushed, yet acquiesced, and asked in return that she call me by my name, too, as Mary.

I believe it was from this moment that we began to draw nearer to one another.

She showed understanding toward my training as a bride, answered my questions without hesitation, and allowed me to accompany her on inspections of the lands. We found quiet moments to share, stolen as if in a secret rendezvous. At some tea gathering—how many I no longer recall—when I mentioned that I had once gifted her a handkerchief, which she had not accepted, she seemed surprised, as though she had forgotten. “I had already held you in esteem at that time,” I said. “How regrettable,” she replied, “that I did not accept it. Then perhaps you would now embroider something upon my robe?” I could not contain my delight.

Embroidery upon mantle or robe is a privilege reserved for lovers and wives. The joy of being permitted to stand beside him—so great I wept, and troubled him—remains a secret.

Afterward, the Emmental family experienced great change. Lady Cain’s abducted younger sister had been found. From the end of autumn onward, Lord Cain began shuttling between the capital and his domain.

I was finally able to meet the young lady in question, for the preparations of the wedding, only two days before the ceremony.

Since her return, Lord Cain’s demeanor had seemed… peculiar. He appeared increasingly inclined to fulfill the younger sister’s wishes—her life, so long marked by hardship, now held greater weight than ever. This tendency extended to the entire Emmental family in the capital. When I learned they would hold the sister’s debutante event and her wedding simultaneously, I was struck dumb—not with surprise, but with disbelief so profound it left me speechless.

The wedding had been scheduled from the outset, so shifting the date was currently impossible. Moreover, there had been insufficient time for proper education to allow the debutante event beforehand. Thus, the arrangement to have the younger sister attend both the wedding and the reception was, in truth, a reluctant compromise.

I had assumed, naturally, that no prior consultation had occurred because I had already been made to understand—apparently, I had even been presented to family and others as having consented. A strange, unnameable feeling welled within me…

No, even granting my own acceptance, I found myself questioning whether it was truly acceptable for Stella, my younger sister, to undergo her one and only debutante event at a gathering where another was the center of attention.

Yet she, ever bright and untroubled, showed no sign of concern.

She said, quite simply, that in many common settlements, weddings and coming-of-age celebrations were held on the same day. She did not find it unusual at all…

Though a quiet unease lingered, the ceremony arrived. To me, it became a disappointment.

It had been pleasant up until that point.

My black hair, threaded with navy, was elegantly coiled, and the necklace centered around the Sacred Stone bestowed by Lord Cain was lavish—its royal blue hue framed by pearls. The long veil and ivory wedding gown carried the dreamlike feeling of a childhood longing fulfilled, and I walked the virgin’s path beneath my father’s escort, my heart soaring despite the nervousness. Ahead lay the one I loved—Lord Cain—whose hand would soon take mine. As I advanced, half in disbelief, wondering if this were truly a dream, I became aware that the figure who had labored so tirelessly to make this moment possible was absent nearby.

I searched for her subtly, without drawing attention, and found Spica’s form pushed toward the far corner, relegated to the back. A question rose—why was she not among the front family members? The doubt coiled like a serpent, sharp and unyielding.

The touch of Cain’s lips upon the back of my hand pulled me back into reality, where thoughts had begun to scatter.

We moved forward together, before the priest’s watchful gaze, swearing our union before God and the Emperor. Though shyly, we exchanged a kiss—this moment was the purest happiness of the day.

Surrounded by those closest to us as family, we watched the procession depart. I settled into the open carriage, waiting for my husband, Cain. There was a commotion nearby, as if something stirred. Then, beside me, a woman in a pale violet dress and a pure white robe took her seat. Stella, his younger sister. It seemed that while I had been lost in reverie, she too had been drawn into the procession. Cain’s words carried no room for refusal. I could only nod, without hesitation.

Only the concerned glances of my family and Lady Spica offered me solace.

And so the procession of three began…

To put it mildly, my spirit had fallen from heaven to hell.

The girl beside me leaned forward like a child, pointing at everything, asking Cain-sama, “What is that?” and “And what is this?” with wide eyes. Cain-sama answered with a smile, pleased. The townspeople showered us with blessings of flowers, though half of them paused in momentary confusion.

Yet once it became known that the third companion was a miraculous noblewoman, the city welcomed her with sudden, overwhelming joy.

The groom, who favored his sister over the bride, became the target of the town’s mockery, directed at the bride. I should be the happiest today—why must I be laughed at?

Still, I held to the pride of a high noblewoman, smiling and waving my hand without pause.

And on the way home, I was given an outrageous proposal from Cain-sama.

“Hey, Mary, about tonight’s ball at the debutante event—let’s let Stella, the debutante, wear the white dress. We have a set of colored gowns for changing into, so we can enter the hall in those without issue. I’ll explain it to the guests myself.”

“Do you fully understand the implication behind your words?”

“Of course I do. That’s precisely why I’m explaining it clearly, to avoid misunderstanding. Relax. Didn’t you hear just now what Stella said? She was given a dress unsuitable for her, and only at the last moment was she forced to change into something else, humiliated in front of all. Isn’t that pitiful? Then, at the very least, wouldn’t you want to grant her this small dream—to be welcomed as a debutante in a white dress?”

Cain’s eyes, filled with gentle regard, are fixed upon Stella. She is bubbling with delight, exclaiming, “I’ll be a debutante in a white dress!”

I could not say it—could not voice the thought that to grant her dream, mine must vanish… I swallowed it down instead.

Stepping from the carriage at the Emmental estate, I did not look back, but entered alone the carriage bound for the Imperial Palace.

It had been intended for two, but Cain had said he would go directly to Stella after seeing her, so I went alone.

Inside the carriage, I let the solitude be my permission to weep. Quietly, I stifled sobs, tears falling in silence.

Upon arrival at the Imperial Palace’s annex, it seemed Cain had already sent swift messengers—the change of attire had been announced to the maidservants.

They knew I had been crying. Without a word, they brought cold cloths to press gently against my eyes.

They spoke of how brides were prone to emotional instability, offering such plausible excuses, yet still I felt pity for the bride being stripped of her white dress…

By the time Cain-sama arrived, slightly later than scheduled, I was already draped in a royal blue gown. Wearing the color of his Sacred Stone—yet still a bride… I entered the hall with a heart heavy with shame.

Indeed, Cain-sama had asked me personally to explain the dress’s design, but when had I ever said such a thing? The thought stirred such anger that my mind felt struck by a blunt weapon.

It was the dress Stella-sama wore that I recognized. That could not be anything other than the dress Spica-sama wore at her debut—though there are cases where sisters or mother and daughter share a debutante dress, it is an absolute breach of etiquette for anyone other than the wearer to don a dress at a royal-sponsored event… even if the privileged embroidery is concealed, few in this hall today would fail to remember that gown.

Confused as I was, I was urged toward the dance floor for the first dance…

And another pair—Stella-sama and Fret-sama as well…

To dance the wedding first dance without the bride and groom alone… I wonder if such a thing could be found anywhere else in the world.

During the dance, I asked, “That dress—is it Spica’s, isn’t it? You did obtain permission, didn’t you?” “Why, what else could I do? Among our household, that was the only gown befitting a Debutante’s formal presentation. It is her sister’s moment of glory—Spica will surely understand.”

I could only stare, stunned… Surely Spica is more surprised than I am.

After the first dance, I was invited to dance by my father and cousins. As I danced on, word came of the Third Prince’s arrival, and I danced next with him. To my surprise, the next partner named for me was not Spica—my betrothal candidate—but Stella. Only then did I realize: Spica was nowhere to be seen in the hall. Stella flushed, her cheeks pink, and glided toward the dance floor. Watching her go, I was urged to retreat to the antechamber to quench my parched throat, and so I withdrew.

The hall, upon my return, held no sign of Spica-sama… Soon after, I was escorted by my father-in-law and my father to greet the guests. At that time, Cain-sama was likewise making his rounds, accompanied by Stella-sama… Though we had different partners…

By the time the ceremony reached its midpoint, we had left the hall earlier than the wedding feast’s scheduled start—our presence expected, yet already departed.

To speak plainly, I felt a deep relief that I was not returning with Stella-sama…

I had wished to bid her farewell, but had been forced to leave early after becoming involved in a matter of trouble. I had felt deeply regretful, especially as I had not yet been able to express my gratitude directly for her thoughtful care during her bridal training. I only hoped the incident had not harmed her in any way when Cain-sama called out to me.

“Are you weary? Or burdened by sorrow?”

“No… that is true. I regretted not having had the chance to greet you properly, Spica-sama. I wondered what had become of you during the ceremony, standing so far in the back…”

Cain-sama’s expression grew troubled at my words.

Upon arriving at the Emmental manor, we each bathed and finally lay together in the same bed, yet lacked the will to proceed. We merely exchanged excuses and drifted into sleep. It was enough to recall the resentment of a bride whose wedding had been disrupted…

When I turned my back, Cain-sama seemed equally unsettled. Yet, mindful of my quiet sobs, he did nothing at all—though it was our first night—together, he let the night pass in silence, and we fell asleep.

When I awoke the next morning, there was no figure beside me, no warmth remaining. I knew at once that Cain had risen early and left the bed, though it was our first night together. A crushing sense of emptiness overcame me, despite having been the one who had rejected him. As loneliness and regret welled again behind my eyes, the door to the bedroom opened quietly.

I stood frozen, startled—still in nothing but my nightclothes—when Cain entered, balancing a tray of food under one arm and a bouquet of flowers tucked beneath the other.

I clutched him, overwhelmed by relief at having him return.

“Last night… no, yesterday—I should not have done that. I wanted to show my sister a good face, and I neglected you too harshly. I let myself grow too dependent on your kindness. This is a once-in-a-lifetime occasion. I cannot ask for your forgiveness, but I promise from now on to make every effort not to hurt you, not to hurt Merry.”

He handed me a bouquet centered on several tulips.

A love letter wrapped in floral meanings brings a smile to my face. You say I need not forgive, and so I do not—but I, too, must make an effort to draw near.

"I am the one who should apologize, my lord. But tell me, do you truly understand the despair I felt upon waking to find you gone?"

You lower your head, a quiet, sorrowful gesture.

Never before have I seen such a tender lord. Our new life together began with my hand upon your head—once so proud and resolute, now diminished like a soaked puppy beneath the rain—resting gently upon my lap as I stroked your hair.

Ah, yes—I recall lying in the bed, asking, "Why did you choose me as your companion?" You answered only, "Because the Sacred Stone you craft is more beautiful than any other, even beyond family."

Perhaps, I thought, I am loved by this one—so we shared a kiss upon the bridal bed, our bodies merging as one.