The large garden where red and white roses were intertwined, emitting their own fragrances.
Indeed, it seemed fitting for a dukedom, as the flower fields stretched so far that the end was scarcely visible. Leaning back on a bench under the warm sunlight, I thought to myself.
Though it’s a bit embarrassing to say this, Father’s small garden at the Esthe estate couldn’t even compare—this was a hundred times better.
Especially since the only gardener there was Uncle Hans, who was perpetually drunk and rolling around. This place was incomparably superior.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?”
“Ah, you’re…”
At first glance, she seemed plain with her brown hair and black eyes.
However, the calloused hands and thick scars told a story—that this woman was no ordinary individual.
If one were to describe her, she was like a tough, motherly figure.
Lora. If my memory serves, she was the housekeeper of the Hardenberg family. Wasn’t she the one Lily kept following around, calling her “Master”?
Certainly, judging by Lily’s grooming lately, Lora has been a top-notch mentor.
“Lora Esfelth. Please, call me Lora.”
Smiling softly, she spoke.
“Ah… Lora. It’s been such a long time.”
I had forgotten about her until now, after briefly meeting at the engagement ceremony. Besides that, given that Lily handled most of the duties as a maid, I rarely had the occasion to cross paths with Lora.
Above all, during our first meeting, the engagement preparations were so hectic that we barely exchanged more than a few words.
“The garden suits you, it seems.”
“Yes. The roses are truly beautiful.”
“This was managed by the previous Duchess.”
The previous Duchess. In other words, this was Abel’s mother, was it not?
I tried to picture her but it was difficult—could Abel have truly called her “mother”? For that matter, had there even been such a person in his life?
Was it because of the cruel image I caught of him during our first meeting? Or the cold demeanor of a noble that I witnessed before?
“The Lady passed before the young master turned four. Such a pity.”
Lora let out a deep sigh with a look of sorrow etched on her face. I wondered, momentarily anxious, if she could read my thoughts—those rather impolite thoughts I had a moment earlier—though there is no magic in this world to read hearts, after all.
“You know, this garden originally only had white roses.”
“And the red ones…?”
“They were planted by Master Abel—no, by His Grace, the Duke.”
That explained why the roses seemed so entwined and cramped. Strange how red roses would be added to a field of pristine white ones. Perhaps, it was a matter of bad taste? Or was it merely because of my preconception that colored Abel as the mastermind behind such choices?
“The former Duchess loved the color red. She always expressed her regret while overseeing this white rose garden.”
Indeed, this garden of such magnitude couldn’t have solely been the work of the previous Duchess herself. Likely, it was a garden passed down through generations. Perhaps Abel planted the red roses in this sea of white out of reverence for his mother?
It was surprising—a move contrary to the usual stoic impression he carried.
“Please don’t hate His Grace too much.”
“…What?”
Turning quickly, I met Lora’s gaze, which carried a faint hint of sorrow. The robustness I saw in her demeanor at our first meeting had long dissipated.
“Even if he appears cold, he’s quite awkward.”
This was unexpected.
Though on the surface, it seemed as if Abel had no care for his subordinates, it appeared that that was not the case. Upon reflection, every single servant I encountered in this mansion had only good things to say about him.
True, Evan’s praise for the Duke was a bit over the top, to the point it was annoying.
“Did I meddle too much?”
“…No, it’s fine.”
In truth, I still don’t quite understand.
Abel Hardenberg.
Who exactly was he?
Until I met him, he had seemed like an archetypal antagonist, a man who acted ruthlessly based on profit and loss. During our first meeting, he had seemed cruel, but during our contract marriage, he had shown a playful side.
Which was his mask, and which was his true self?
“…I really don’t know.”
For the first time, I felt a genuine curiosity about who Abel Hardenberg really was.
§
The etiquette, pride, and etiquette of a noble…
The days spent ostensibly in lessons as a bride-to-be, but in reality in noble education, showed no signs of ending.
I’d assumed learning a little dance as a fiancée would suffice, but it turned out I had to learn all sorts of things.
Learning to embroider was the barest prerequisite, while middle school-level math by modern standards was an added bonus. I also had to master all sorts of manners expected of the Duchess of a dukedom.
The only comforting point was that I’d gotten somewhat used to sewing even in my previous life.
“…This is exhausting.”
I knew I lacked the proper etiquette expected of a noble, but now I could see just how rude I’d been in the past. Of course, it wasn’t as though I attracted enough antagonism to warrant assassination attempts…
Still, I couldn’t deny that I’d unnecessarily ruffled some feathers.
“You seem troubled.”
“Du-, no, Abel.”
Turning around, I saw Abel’s slightly smirking face. For some reason, it irritated me, so I sighed.
“You’re still not used to calling me by my name. When will you finally call me properly?”
“…Did you come just to tease me?”
“Of course. That is the main purpose.”
Another sigh was about to escape me as I saw his shameless expression. I hadn’t seen him for a few days, and this was all he had to say when we meet again?
“Isn’t it a luxury for a Duke to have this much free time?”
With a snicker-like tone, I questioned, and Abel smiled lightly as he replied.
“I’ve delegated to Allen this time, so it’s fine.”
Allen, the white-haired butler? That elderly gentleman who had served the Hardenberg family for close to fifty years? If he was handling things, then I can rest assured.
Indeed, among servants or maids, it’s quite rare to find someone who has served a single family for so long. In fact, he might well be the real power behind the scenes.
“Is it true you’re having trouble with noble etiquette?”
“Yes, well…”
For months—no, considering the regression, it had been a year—I lived as Adelle von Este, largely ignoring etiquette since my focus was on survival. There was simply no spare time to learn such things.
But somehow, I eventually earned the opportunity to learn the manners of a Duchess in a noble household, though my more than twenty years of memories as a modern person complicated matters. I struggled with etiquette rules that didn’t fully resonate with me.
“If you wish, I could help.”
“Why would you?”
Without thinking, a curt reply slipped out. Nevertheless, he grinned and calmly responded.
“I don’t want to see our Lady Adelle embarrass herself.”
“Uh…it’s not that bad?”
“Ah, recounting the etiquette rules you mistakenly skipped due to nervousness at the engagement ceremony again would be interesting.”
“Kuh… that…”
True enough, when I returned to the mansion after the engagement ceremony, I had to endure a two-hour lecture in a gentle tone from Allen.
Even Lily, who usually protected me, ignored me that day, saying everything that needed to be said.
“There’s no rush. You won’t be publicly exposed for a while.”
“Isn’t the hunting festival coming up soon?”
At my question, Abel shook his head.
“The festival has been postponed by a month. It seems the snow on the Perpetual Snow Mountain hasn’t melted yet.”
The Hunting Festival.
Held in the massive Perpetual Snow Mountain north of the capital Ilié of the Arie Empire, it’s a festival where dangerous monsters and rugged terrain make it quite perilous.
It started when the first emperor of the empire, Juke von Schpenheim, eradicated all the monsters on the mountain and reached the summit. This festival has continued for over a thousand years.
For inexperienced nobles, it’s not just a chance to grow stronger but also an opportunity to present their hunt to the noble they admire. Meanwhile, the noble ladies evaluate the value of the gifts presented to them.
Additionally, the individual who captures the most or the most valuable prey earns the title of “King,” while the title of “Queen” goes to the one who receives the most valuable prey.
Thus, this festival offers numerous opportunities to gain prestige.
Of course, since the area is dangerous, many knights from the imperial guard participate as well. While there are casualties every year, the number is relatively small—around one or two.
“You seem excited about the hunting festival, Adelle?”
“Me?”
“Are you curious about what prey I will bring back?”
Though saying I’m not curious would be a lie, his self-assured expression made me slightly impatient.
“Hmm, not particularly.”
“I’ll make sure to bring something beyond your expectations.”
Saying that, something felt uneasy. Could he really be aiming to win both the King and Queen titles?
Surely, even to cover up our contract marriage, he won’t go that far, will he?
…Right?
