episode_0093

‘Well…truthfully, I’m not sure if His Majesty can unilaterally annul the engagement.’

Still, being able to talk about a situation that felt suffocatingly unbearable was good news for Marisa.

However, given the Emperor’s somewhat indecisive and affectionate nature, and Marisa’s awareness of her family’s influence in this country, she couldn’t entirely trust the Emperor’s promise.

The current Empire, called Sephiroth, holds the name of an empire, but the status and power of the Ducal House of Valencia are overwhelmingly high and vast.

Though they are maternal relatives of the Emperor, it’s a somewhat bizarre phenomenon that the Ducal House of Valencia alone wields more power than all other non-maternal ducal houses combined.

Valencia, and furthermore, the Eisenwald in the North ‘governed’ by Rodrigo, possesses a somewhat excessive military force capable of easily annihilating most minor kingdoms on the continent.

Thus, the moniker ‘Grand Duke’—a title somewhat unfitting for an Empire where the Emperor should be the sole sovereign and absolute ruler—was attached to her grandfather.

‘The Empire now has a very different, alien structure compared to previous empires where the Emperor reigned with absolute power. And it just so happened when I was born. Ominous and troublesome…’

Consequently, Marisa, as Rodrigo’s granddaughter and the Emperor’s niece, holds the highest status and position among the Empire’s young people, excluding the imperial family members Leon and Skada.

Someone, like Lizley or Emma, who are power-hungry, might envy Marisa. But Marisa herself absolutely detests it.

Her father, her grandfather, and even her aunt—who in other families wouldn’t be able to exert much influence over household matters—all contribute to Marisa’s status and position becoming secondary. Amidst these powerful aristocrats, Marisa is merely a puppet doll.

She must endure the wretchedness of being forcibly married, through an engagement made long before she was even born, to a man with the most despicable personality she’s ever encountered.

Moreover, if she were to grit her teeth, punch her elders, and run away, her grandfather, the most senior elder in the family, is a martial artist who has entered a state of transcendence, one of the top three in the current Empire. So, patricide for survival is out of the question.

‘Sigh…but, according to my intuition and knowledge…Grandfather is walking a dangerous line. It’s true that he has an immense lust for power. There have been countless times when I wondered what would happen if His Majesty the Emperor found a pretext…I’m so sick of this damn family, I want to run away!’

Tangled knots of thoughts, completely unbefitting of Marisa’s usual calm and elegant demeanor, filled her mind.

Annulment, please, Ras, interesting, Emperor, indecisive, Leon, scoundrel, Ras, gentle, Empress, awful, Grandfather, idiot, treason, Ras, handsome, Irha, addiction, head, Ras, infuriating, Rosalie, annulment…

Somehow, she wondered if Ras held too large a share of her thoughts, but like the elegant Marisa she was, she smoothly and fluidly came up with an excuse for her thoughts.

‘Ras, why does your face keep coming to my mind? Is it because I feel like you could solve my problems? I don’t feel affection for you like Irha or Pisces…it’s truly strange. I’ll just assume it’s because I want to enjoy plenty of literary club activities with you.’

If she told Ras, who had coolly summoned that absurd inferno in Delphy to burn the demons, about her worries and troubles, it felt as if he would coolly burn those worries and send them to hell.

She didn’t know why, but Marisa continued to walk, lost in aimless thoughts, believing that even such an absurd idea would alleviate her frustration.

In an afternoon without Irha or Ras, Marisa was an elegant but solitary young lady.

“I should go home…and continue writing the novel I put aside last night.”

Normally, this would be an enjoyable activity, but today had been so exhausting that brainstorming or writing a novel felt like a torment.

A troubled Marisa began to recall the conversation she’d had with the Emperor earlier.

Thinking about the frustrating conversation brought back the unpleasant experiences she’d had with Leon since childhood, slowly surfacing.

Marisa walked the path to the dormitory slowly, as if walking through her past.

And so, imperceptibly, Marisa began to wander through her not-so-pleasant past.

*

My name is Marisa Adelard von Valencia, and I am twelve years old, like a forsythia flower.

An infant’s name being this difficult is not something I find pleasing.

People call me by various titles: ‘Duchess,’ ‘Princess of the Grand Duke’s Castle,’ ‘Young Lady’…

For me, a literature-loving girl who is more precocious, meticulous, and exceedingly elegant than my peers, it’s inconsistent and too distracting.

This difficult and long name, Marisa Adelard von Valencia, is already stifling and excessive for me.

And now, at this moment, as I entered my room, I, Marisa, am feeling the most heartfelt anger of my short twelve-year life.

This anger… its very nature is different from the slight annoyance I feel about my long and cumbersome name. This is a true and proper, universally felt reason for anger.

I held a thick bundle of papers in my hand and quietly growled as I watched a little brat burn them with a flashy, show-offy ignition spell.

Honestly, it’s not cool at all when a kid, whose magic skills aren’t even that outstanding, scribbles with magic.

“What… are you doing, Leon?”

“Ah… Marisa. You’re here. Hmm… I thought you were always doing something very unnutritious and useless, so I took a look while you were briefly out… I was always curious what you were so passionately scribbling about, right? Even when I asked, you ignored me and didn’t tell me, so I thought it might be some grand secret magic book.”

My cousin and fiancé, Leontidas Valdebron da Sephiroth.

Through discussions between my grandfather and both sets of parents, and especially after my grandfather strongly insisted, this arrogant brat has been staying in the North for several years.

A brat with absolutely no redeeming qualities except for a face so handsome it’s like a male geisha… this human is the very sorrow and shackle of the elegant Marisa.

When I’m in the same space as that person, the elegant Marisa turns into a vulgar Marisa who spouts harsh words, so I suppose he could be considered my main nemesis.

I truly don’t understand why he keeps clinging to the North instead of just returning to his supposedly splendid imperial capital.

This cursed brat is the same age as me, but the way he thinks and manipulates others is cunning and deceitful, making him seem like a severely rotten old man trapped in a child’s body.

Even at ‘Schole,’ the youth and adolescent education institution in the North where we attend together… he’s a pervert who enjoys tormenting others and bringing them misfortune while pretending it’s unintentional.

Especially, his twisted, evil nature—a mental illness that no one else, except me, truly knows about—is his fanatical enjoyment of taking away and ruining the happiness of others.

And today, ‘that thing’s’ full-blown mental illness and rotten character finally targeted me.

I always thought that sooner or later, I would become a target for that psychopath, but this person is doing something even more heinous than I imagined.

The bundle of papers, endlessly fluttering into smoke in the hands of ‘that thing’ who pretends to be a fatal adult, was my novel, which I had consistently written over several years.

It was humble, not up to the standard to show anyone, but it was my number one treasure because it was Marisa’s first creation, the Marisa who would one day debut secretly from her tiresome family and become a great writer. All the settings and character details for the novel were meticulously organized.

It was my closest and most grateful friend, which had comforted my loneliness the most, and also my only escape in this stifling place.

This unruly brat, whose upbringing makes me doubt his family education, not only shamelessly peered into the treasure and friend that someone had painstakingly created and organized over several years, but also burned it.

I would have been extremely angry just if he had peeked without permission, but he burned it without a word… and even timed it perfectly for my entrance, as if to show off.

Seeing my stiff expression, ‘that thing’ spoke with that idiotic, fatal-looking smile of his.

His expression, full of revolting superiority and triumph, suggesting “I control your emotions, and you are powerless to do anything about my actions,” was disgusting.

In reality, who could I tell about Leon’s abominable misdeed and gain sympathy or compensation?

On the contrary, it would be fortunate if I didn’t get punished by my father or aunt for acting without decorum, for doing something ‘un-noble.’

How can every single one of his actions be so idiotic and unpleasant? He truly deserves to be a subject of study.

I once read in a book that physiological disgust has little to do with a person’s age… and it’s frustratingly ironic that the living proof of that happens to be my damned fiancé, forcing a hollow laugh from me.

‘That thing’ opened his filthy mouth, his voice and demeanor slightly triumphant, and continued to lecture me.

It was as if trash was uncontrollably spilling out of his mouth with every word.

“Just as I expected, it was indeed trash. Marisa, don’t you think it’s extremely vulgar for a woman who will become Empress to be engrossed in cheap street novels and scribble manuscripts whenever she has a moment? You are a Lady of Valencia, my cousin, and my fiancée. Shouldn’t you show a corresponding dignity? There are so many good books in the world… it’s not enough to read them, you even try to create them yourself…”

I truly despise ‘that thing’ who, whenever he gets a chance, maliciously belittles and mocks me in such a way.

I’m not sure what about me provokes him like this, but one thing is certain: I can feel a deep inferiority complex he harbors towards me.

First of all, I detest that imbecile so much that I rarely speak to him or interact with him at all.

Despite his pretensions, this crazy brat, who occasionally rakes me over with his stiflingly dirty gaze because I’m beautiful and pretty, rarely gets my attention, and I’ve never even held his hand.

Instead, during the times I was obligated to be with him, I would write my precious novel, or unleash my imagination with the settings and characters I had created, enjoying my own private relaxation.

This might be the biggest reason my damned fiancé feels an inferiority complex towards me.

My essence is far removed from what is termed ‘aristocratic’—my family, my power, my prestige… all of it.

In short, I am someone who is somehow free, someone who can find joy and happiness by concentrating solely on myself, even if all my ‘background’ is stripped away.

That twisted brat, who doesn’t know what pure joy or happiness feels like unless he torments others, must have felt an intense inferiority complex towards my mature demeanor.

Additionally, from the perspective of that narcissist who feels he is the best in the world and deserves all attention, I, who give no affection or interest to his handsome self, must have become an object of twisted obsession.

To be engaged, and even worse, to marry someone like that… I wish the world would end before then.

No, wait… thinking about it, that’s too selfish. It can’t be.

If the world truly ended because of my prayer, what wrong would the hardworking, well-meaning people have done?

I should change my prayer: I wish Leon would cleanly die, or become impotent.

“Anyway, Marisa, you should thank me. It’s best to get rid of such bad habits quickly. I won’t specifically tell my mother or your grandfather about your cheap hobby.”

In any case, knowing that imbecile so well, I knew what reaction Leon wanted from me now.

He wanted me to lose control of my boiling anger and display rough language or aggression towards him without thinking.

He wanted me to become an aspiring writer, overflowing with injustice and indignation, weeping and arguing with the arsonist who burned my work.

Therefore, I, Marisa, will absolutely never lose my dignity or composure, nor will I rampage or cry and show weakness as that cursed brat desires.

My novel, the only warmth I held in my heart in this frustratingly cold and stifling place, is gone, burned away. But it’s okay.

Because I am the elegant, intelligent, and patient Marisa.

So… all I have to do is forge anew the stories that burned away and create even better works.

“Leon.”

Having collected my thoughts, I calmly called out to Leon in a voice devoid of any highs, lows, or humming, the kind I always practiced to maintain my composure.

As I forced myself to maintain my composure and endured that single moment of anger, a slight pity for the less-than-human individual remained in the place where the anger had receded.

Hearing my calm, anger-free voice, Leon flinched and looked at me.

And in this situation, I knew the words that would anger Leon the most.

“You… are truly a pathetic person. Wretched, foolish, and pathetic.”

“Haha… do you really think so?”

He feigned a cheerful, light laugh to hide that he’d been caught off guard, but I could feel the quiet boiling annoyance and anger in his tone.

He often showed such a reaction when things didn’t go his way, when the desired outcome wasn’t achieved.

For that child, who was full of useless and strange pride, being pitied by others would feel terrible, making his suffering double.

Of course… naturally, it’s necessary not to leave even the smallest opening.

If he were to misunderstand my compassion and shallow pity as affection or small love for him, that would truly be a great disaster.

So, let’s express my disgust and decisive cutting-off elegantly.

“But I am also an elegant young lady, and therefore, I cannot love such a wretched, foolish, and pathetic person. Such a person is not worthy of my station.”

I grinned, speaking as casually as possible while hiding my pain.

With all the characters and stories of my novel, which had burned to ashes, buried deep in my heart.

*

“Ah, I’ve arrived. Walking while having unpleasant thoughts makes me want to arrive quickly, which has the advantage of making me walk faster. Hahahaha…”

Marisa was already inside her dormitory.

The dormitory was as desolate and large as usual, and just as silent.

Unable to bear the silence, Marisa hastily sent a message to the first person who came to mind.

Unlike her usual self, she sounded slightly sulky, even a little demanding…

[Ras, if… I were to be kicked out of my house… would you truly take me in and provide me with food and lodging? Even if I’m no longer a Lady, even if I become a penniless beggar with nothing but the clothes on my back… Please reply quickly. I… have been through too much.]

Marisa felt a slight pang of guilt for impulsively contacting a man who was taken.

But at the same time… she hoped Ras would quickly reply to her, seeing how upset she was.

‘Friendship is important too, not just love. If he doesn’t reply this time, I’ll get sulky.’

However, fortunately, a reply came quickly this time, so Marisa didn’t end up sulking.

The reply read:

[Yeah. For ten years or a hundred, just stay. My family isn’t high-status, but we have a lot of money. I’ll feed you meat dishes for all three meals, so don’t worry. The bed is super soft, by the way. You can eat, sleep, and play at my place, and if you want to work, just write a novel and submit it. The manuscript fees are yours.]

A reply tossed out nonchalantly, yet perfectly meeting Marisa’s needs.

“You… are a bad man for seducing a woman with talk of a bed, but you are a good person nonetheless. Marisa is a woman who never forgets a promise and will claim it, so be well prepared. Hahahaha…”

However, Marisa was too embarrassed to send this as a reply, so she just said it to herself.

The spacious and silent single room was filled with a warm glow, along with Marisa’s bright smile.