Chapter 77: The Steel-Willed Princess in Azure 6

“…Hah…”

Lying on the bed, Estel vacantly gazed at the ceiling.

Tomorrow would mark the end of the week-long process of selecting Santana’s potential fiancée, with his betrothed officially decided.

For Estel, this meant today was effectively her last opportunity to comfortably observe Bohemia’s internal affairs.

Per her original schedule, she had planned one more visit to the marketplace to accurately gauge the public sentiment.

However, at this very moment, citing ill health, she remained bedridden all day long.

Indeed, her emerald eyes, typically sparkling like gemstones, appeared dull and listless.

Her usually vibrant countenance seemed somewhat haggard, as if from lack of sleep.

An outsider might assume she was gravely ill, but truthfully, Estel did not feel particularly unwell physically.

Yet, the reason she languished sleeplessly, unable to collect her thoughts, was…

The person whose image refused to leave her mind at this very moment –

A man named Santana Andreas.

‘Why am I behaving this way?… Why… Why does his face… Santana’s face keep surfacing in my thoughts?’

Though benefiting greatly from her ‘contract’ with that man yesterday, even exceeding her original intentions of avoiding marriage, Estel felt a lingering disquiet.

It was not an unpleasant or painful sensation.

Rather, a peculiar thrill, anticipation, and a slight excitement…

An unfamiliar feeling accompanying his vivid visage, unsettling yet not entirely unpleasant…

A first-time experience leaving Estel emotionally unmoored as she spent the day vacantly staring at the ceiling.

Lamenting the wasted precious time in Bohemia, yet unable to shake this all-consuming sentiment…

Surveying the potential fiancées before him, Santana’s demeanor filled Dust with trepidation.

The three final candidates were strikingly beautiful, with proven refined intellect and manners befitting their esteemed noble pedigrees – impeccable choices by all accounts.

Yet Dust could not put her mind at ease.

‘Surely not, but… What if my brother declares none of them appeal to him?’

Truthfully, objectively speaking, the three women’s beauty paled in comparison to that wretched wench Cazeros who had recently vanished.

Loathe as she was to admit it, that woman’s looks alone could sway her brother’s heart, an outstanding beauty that effortlessly captivated despite her lack of adornment.

Witnessing these noblewomen flaunting their charm through lavish jewelry and cosmetics only underscored Cazeros’s natural allure in Dust’s eyes.

Moreover, Estel – whose appearance rivaled Cazeros’s and whom Dust secretly favored as a fiancée candidate – seemed somewhat indisposed compared to her usual self.

Dissatisfied with their physical appeal yet striving to allay her unease, Dust reassured herself:

‘But… he surely would not go that far. Looks are not everything, and these women clearly surpass Cazeros in all other respects. Besides, this is not a setting where my brother can freely voice rejection.’

Present were not just Dust and her mother, but also her father Count Turen, alongside servants and nobles from other territories – hardly an appropriate venue to brazenly declare dissatisfaction, an act carrying severe political ramifications.

Surely Santana understood this, alleviating Dust’s fears of him making any rash judgments.

Yet, as Dust anxiously pondered potential undesirable outcomes, Santana’s solemn declaration rang out:

“I have decided.”

Tension filled the air at his words.

Then, Santana slowly approached one of the three women, courteously kneeling before her:

“I wish to take Lady Estel as my fiancée.”

“Ah!…”

Witnessing the very scenario she inwardly desired, Dust inadvertently let out an excited exclamation.

Thereafter, Santana extended a single white rose – the symbol of betrothal – toward Estel, asking:

“Lady Estel Bertina Fernandes, will you become my fiancée?”

With a serene smile, as Santana spoke those words, Estel’s flushed face betrayed her demure acceptance of the proffered white rose.

“…Yes… Yes, I shall… accept, Lord Santana.”

Uncharacteristically flustered, upon Estel’s tremulous reply, thunderous applause erupted as the newly betrothed couple emerged.

Among the well-wishers were the tearfully elated Countess Andreas, alongside a beaming Count Turen enthusiastically clapping.

Swiftly following the fiancée’s selection was an elaborate engagement ceremony befitting the alliance between the ruling noble houses governing these lands – a lavish celebration rivaling any opulent wedding.

The union of Bohemia and Lepsodia’s sovereigns further elevated Bohemia’s prestige, already soaring after the victory at White Mountain.

Yet, separate from such grandiose implications, at this moment, Dust – who had labored tirelessly to orchestrate this occasion – reveled in pure, unbridled joy.

“Congratulations, Lady Estel. No, I should address you as ‘Sister Estel’ now, should I not? Since you are engaged, we are practically family!”

“Please, address me informally, Dust.”

“Haha, then you must do the same, Sister Estel. If I am your little sister, just call me ‘sister’!”

“Um… Very well then, Dust.”

“Heehee, yes, Sister Estel!”

Happily dropping formalities at Estel’s behest, Dust beamed as if she possessed the world.

Having the woman she long admired become her sister was sheer bliss.

Moreover, this thoroughly eliminated any potential standing for that vile, lowborn Cazeros – a profound relief and joy.

“Hmm? By the way, where has my brother gone? I haven’t seen him for a while.”

“Lord Santana just retired to his chambers. He seemed rather fatigued, likely from the tension…”

“Still, to abandon his own fiancée like this before the celebration has even concluded…”

“He must have been quite anxious. While we witnessed the proceedings firsthand, my brother fretted all week until the final candidate was decided.”

“Well, I suppose that’s possible…”

Though mildly dismayed, joy automatically spread across Dust’s face witnessing Estel’s defense of Santana – a reminder that she was now her brother’s fiancée.

Meanwhile, a critical fact Estel could never forget surfaced in her mind:

‘No need to get carried away… This is merely a contract, after all. An engagement, but ultimately just a political facade…’

Recalling this reality, yet puzzled by the inexplicable discomfort stirring within…

Estel once more donned the mask of a smile.