Chapter 𝟜

“Lord Ritaus is a diligent young man. You won’t find many like him in this day and age,” my father said.

Franz nodded.

“That’s right, Kyla. I want him to be my brother-in-law.”

No. No! Franz, I can never let that happen. This is all for your sake.

I wasn’t against the idea simply because Ritaus wanted Franz. That was more than enough of a reason, of course, but I had an even more pressing motive.

Ritaus was like a magnet that drew in Astair, the obsessive lunatic. Being involved with Ritaus meant being involved with Astair as well.

The two of them were second cousins, but their relationship could be better described as that of a nanny and child—with Ritaus being the nanny. Astair hated and envied anyone who held Ritaus’ attention, and in the comic, his jealousy had been directed at Franz.

In order to torment Franz, Astair had kidnapped him, stripped him of his virginity from both the front and the back sides—if that made sense—and destroyed the House of Vesta.

I could not let Ritaus anywhere near Franz because this would summon Astair. I had to talk my father into letting me call off our engagement.

It won’t be easy.

My parents liked Ritaus very much, and he was a very desirable husband, at least on the outside.

I needed to choose a different strategy.

***

“You’re going to Father’s office?”

“Yes, I am—oh! My lady!”

I stole away the refreshments and tea that a servant had been taking to my father and walked into his office.

“Don’t push yourself too hard, Father,” I said, giving him the nicest and loveliest smile I could manage.

“Out with it. You want something from me.”

How’d he know that?

“Oh, Father, don’t be like that. You make it sound as if I’m only nice when I need something from you.”

My father looked as unimpressed as a Tibetan fox.

This is no good. Let’s get to the point.

“Father, Lord Ritaus is the heir of the House of Izar,” I said in a singsong voice while massaging his shoulders.

“What about it?”

“And I’ll be the next head of our family.”

“Yes.”

“I need a man who will have only our interests in mind.”

“You mean to say that the House of Izar will be of no help to our own?”

I nodded. “Indeed.”

“Hmm...”

In truth, I knew that joining our house with the House of Izar through marriage was objectively a good thing. Children born through a union between Ritaus and me could become the next Marquess Vesta and Count Izar respectively.

But I needed to distract my father before his reasoning returned.

“Count Izar is a greedy, ambitious man. If our blood mixes with theirs, the two treasures of our house may flow into their possession.”

“No! I had no idea Count Izar was such a rascal.”

I was lying, of course. I had no idea what kind of man Count Izar was. He had never been described in the comic.

But other than that, my words were pretty much correct. Until now, Schuette and Schitzuro, the two heirlooms of the House of Vesta, could only belong to those who had Vesta blood. If Izar’s blood was mixed with ours, Ritaus’ descendants would have the right to use them just as much as any Vesta.

In the distant future, the two houses could be combined for even greater influence and power.

Wait, what? Marrying Ritaus is just flat-out good, isn’t it? I just can’t seem to find a valid reason not to!

Before my confused father could see the massive flaw in my reasoning, I quickly pressed my advantage.

“I’ll bring you a nice man I can marry, Father!”

“A nice man?”

“Yes! The sort of man who will be loyal and obey everything my parents and I tell him! A compliant son-in-law!”

My father cocked his head, apparently deep in thought. He was probably weighing the pros and cons of my idea.

“Let’s consider this for a while,” he said. “We can’t make such decisions on an impulse.”

I started to feel a little angry.

Your daughter doesn’t want to marry Ritaus. What is there to think about, huh? I don’t want him!

Pure and simple! He’s not for me!

I grew anxious. I needed to conclude this matter as quickly as possible.

“To tell you the truth, Father, I’ve never liked Lord Ritaus.”

He gave me a sideways glance. “Why are you telling me this now?”

What do you mean, now?

Kyla Vesta had been 12 when she’d first met him—that was before I’d entered her body. But that was beside the point. How could a child like that go against her parents’ wishes?

“I want to choose my husband wisely!”

“You’ve nothing to lose from listening to grown-ups, at least when it comes to marriage. Let’s consider this carefully.”

“Father!”

Now I was riled up, and I chased my father around until evening, begging and begging for him to call things off. Since entering Kyla’s body, I’d never been so insistent with him.

In the end, a tired Marquess Vesta put up his hands.

“Fine. I’ll respect your decision. I had no idea you hated Lord Ritaus so much.”

“Thank you, Father.” I curtsied to him, raising my long skirt slightly.

However, there was a chance that my father was just pretending to give in so that I would stop bothering him. I needed to cement my victory.

“I’ll discuss things with Count Izar while you are at Kratie. The two families have always been on good terms. I can’t simply notify him of a sudden cancellation to the engagement.”

“Actually, Father...”

“What? What is it this time?” Marquess Vesta looked exhausted.

“I already sent an express dispatch to the House of Izar... I’m sorry.”

Marquess Vesta roared like a lion that night, and one of my eardrums nearly burst.

***

The door flew open.

A young man with brown hair and light green eyes leaped into the drawing room. He was wearing a green uniform and was badly out of breath.

“I told you... you need to give me a warning... before you visit... Astelle.”

A lovely girl was leaning back on a sofa, looking at a letter. Her pink hair fell free, and her eyes were purple. She seemed to be in her midteens, perhaps 14 or 15.

She smiled at him.

“I told you not to call me that when we’re by ourselves, Ritaus.”

Her enticing red lips emitted a low, baritone voice. It was rough and grating, as if she had a cold—or perhaps it was similar to the voice of a boy who had just gone through a late bout of puberty.

“Yes, Astair...”

“That’s more like it.”

Astair flashed a lovely smile at Ritaus, but her voice—actually, his voice—was just as low as before.

“Your beloved fiancée has sent a letter. By express dispatch.”

Astair fluttered the letter he’d been reading and showed it to Ritaus.

Ritaus snatched it out of his hand.

“Don’t read my letters.”

As Ritaus looked over the letter, two thin arms wrapped themselves around his waist.

“I came because you refused to visit me at home. Are you going to be crabby about it?”

Pink hair, smooth as silk, tickled Ritaus’ nose. A subtle iris scent drifted up to his nostrils.

Astair even smelled like a girl, but Ritaus felt nothing.

“Just as unresponsive as ever. You’re no fun.” Astair lost interest and dropped his arms from Ritaus’ waist. “I am so bored. Tell me about your fiancée. I only read the letter up to the greeting.”

Astair was wearing a dress of pink silk the same color as his hair, adorned with black lace. His long hair had been braided into a ponytail and tied with a black satin ribbon, enhancing his beauty even more.

Anyone would mistake him for a lovely girl—that is, as long as his mouth remained shut.

Astair noticed Ritaus’ body tensing up as he read. What was going on? Astair was not interested in the letter.

“What’s she like? Pretty?” Astair asked, nudging Ritaus in his waist.

Ritaus ignored him.

“Is she ugly, then?”

Ritaus glared at him as if to say, “Enough.”

“I’m bored, Ritaus,” Astair complained. He flopped back onto the silk sofa, and Ritaus sighed.

The intricate flower patterns on the long silk fabric of the sofa suited Astair very nicely. For some reason, that thought made Ritaus feel annoyance and pity at the same time.

“There’s nothing much to report. She’s going to start attending Kratie, which is where I go,” Ritaus said, slowly reading through the letter. There wasn’t even a trace of affection for her in his voice.

“So she wants to be with you, is that it? How dull.”

Ritaus shook his head. “No. That isn’t what this is.”

“Then what’s going on?”

Ritaus’ hands trembled slightly before dropping to his sides. It was like he was so confused that he couldn’t hold his arms up.

Astair approached him to take a look at the letter.

“She’s telling me that our engagement is off.”

Ritaus was stiff and pale. Astair’s eyes glittered, intrigued.