~PROLOGUE~

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. My name is Miyo Saimori.”

Kneeling on the tatami floor, she bowed deeply with as much grace as she could muster, drawing in the familiar scent of fresh rushes mixed with the unfamiliar smell of his house. She knew all too well that she was unwelcome, but she nonetheless wanted to prove she had good manners.

“…”

As if unaware of her presence, the man who was to become her husband didn’t so much as shoot her a glance while he tended to some papers spread out on his writing desk. She remained prostrate on the floor, careful not to make the slightest movement as she awaited his response. Being unacknowledged or ignored was something she was unfortunately used to, and she didn’t want to risk upsetting this man, whom she was meeting for the first time in a strange new place.

“How much longer do you intend to prostrate yourself?”

His low, imperious voice eventually broke the silence. Miyo lifted her head and met his gaze for the first time before immediately bowing down again.

“Please forgive me.”

“…I wasn’t asking for an apology.” Her handsome fiancé sighed before commanding her to sit up straight.

Getting a better look at him this time, Miyo saw that her betrothed, Kiyoka Kudou, was even more stunning than she’d expected. His porcelain skin was free from imperfections, and his pale-blue eyes were framed by long ash-blond hair so fine as to be almost transparent. Coupled with his slender physique, his fair appearance lent him an ephemeral beauty shocking to see in a man.

The tales she’d heard of his mercilessness, of his cruelty as a soldier who’d put his opponents to the sword without hesitation, seemed incongruous before his countenance. Yet, she thought, appearances can be deceiving. Miyo knew firsthand that even those pleasing to the eye could harbor hearts filled with venom. He must have been one of those people. Why else would all the previous brides have fled within three days of their marriage?

But for Miyo, there would be no turning back. She had neither home to return to nor anyone she could rely on for help.

Regardless of what hardships might await her here, she had no choice but to stay.

* * *

Of Our Meeting and My Tears

Just as any other noble family, the Saimori household began their day with a leisurely breakfast in the living room of their sprawling traditional Japanese residence in the capital. Or at least it would have been leisurely, were it not for a shrill voice that pierced the fresh morning air.

“What’s this supposed to be?!”

Scalding-hot liquid splashed on Miyo’s face and chest. She didn’t even whimper as she groveled on the floor. The beautiful younger woman holding a teacup raised her eyebrows in outraged disbelief as her older sister, dressed in a threadbare serving girl’s outfit, bowed in abject apology. As usual, the house staff present in the room averted their gazes.

“The tea is so bitter, it’s undrinkable!”

“I’m terribly sorry…”

“Make me a fresh cup at once!”

Despite having brewed the tea exactly the same as always, Miyo demurely acknowledged her half sister’s request as if she was her servant and hurried to the kitchen, head hung low.

“Goodness me, she can’t even make tea properly. Has she no shame?”

“Indeed. She’s such an embarrassment.”

Miyo pretended she couldn’t hear her half sister and stepmother snickering at her derisively as she left the room. One might think her father would intervene and stop them from mocking his daughter, but he simply continued his meal as if nothing had happened. He hadn’t defended her once in the past several years, and by now, Miyo harbored no hope that he ever would.

Unearthly creatures had plagued this country since time immemorial. Some of these beings resembled humans or animals; a few were so twisted they defied description; and still others fluidly changed shape, refusing to settle on a fixed form. These otherworldly entities, also referred to as fiends or spirits, were malicious to humans.

The task of hunting them fell to the Gifted, descendants of bloodlines that possessed supernatural powers. Only this select few could see the Grotesqueries using Spirit-Sight and dispatch them with supernatural attacks, their sole weakness. Indispensable to the empire, the Gifted enjoyed high social status.

The Saimoris were a long-established noble line, one of the families who’d risen to prominence through ridding the land of Grotesqueries. Miyo was the eldest of her generation. Her parents’ marriage had been purely strategic. Both her father and mother possessed the Gift, and their respective families had arranged the marriage to improve the bloodline. Although her father had been opposed to this, his protests went unheeded. Eventually, he broke off his relations with his lover and reluctantly consented to marry the woman who was to become Miyo’s mother.

Their loveless union resulted in Miyo’s birth. Apparently, they had cherished their daughter in her first few years of life. Her memories of that time were hazy at best, but she’d heard that her father used to dote on her and that she was the apple of her mother’s eye. Everything changed, however, when her mother passed away from illness when Miyo was two years old and her father married his former lover.

Miyo’s stepmother hated her for being the child of the woman who’d separated her from Miyo’s father. Her father, meanwhile, was so overcome with guilt toward his second wife that he deferred to her in everything. To make matters worse, he lost all interest in Miyo when her half sister was born, since he preferred the daughter of his beloved.

Kaya, Miyo’s younger sister, was not only the more beautiful of the two, but also skilled at twisting people around her little finger. To top it all off, she possessed Spirit-Sight, which Miyo lacked. It hadn’t taken long for the younger girl to begin treating her sister with scorn, just as her mother had done.

Then Miyo turned nineteen, an age when girls from good households would usually marry. But since even the servants outranked her in the house, she received not a single proposal. Furthermore, she was penniless because her family had never given her a stipend, which kept her from moving out.

“Here’s your tea.” Miyo placed a freshly brewed pot of tea on Kaya’s tray. Her stepmother huffed but didn’t comment.

Miyo was convinced she’d spend the rest of her life as their slave.

She’d already given up hope.

Her parents and sister finished their breakfast. Miyo cleared the table with the servants and then went outside to sweep the front steps. She rarely cleaned inside the house to keep out of the way of her stepmother and sister, who were always looking to complain about something and saddle her with additional tasks. The servants were well aware of this, and she suspected they sympathized with her, because her share of the chores was always laundry and outdoor tasks. This allowed Miyo some welcome respite on the days when her stepmother and sister didn’t leave the house.

“Hello.”

Miyo had been cleaning in silence until close to noon when a guest arrived.

“Ah. Hello, Kouji.” She bowed at the newcomer, who smiled at her gently.

This well-disposed man with a pleasant, handsome face and dressed in a well-tailored three-piece suit was Kouji Tatsuishi, the second son of another distinguished family with the Gift. His estate was nearby, so he’d known both Miyo and Kaya since childhood. Most importantly, he saw Miyo as a rightful daughter of the Saimori family and was a true friend to her.

“It’s a nice day, isn’t it? Very warm.”

“Indeed. That will make the laundry dry quickly.” She didn’t have anyone else with whom she could indulge in such small talk.

Kouji had tried many times to do something to improve Miyo’s situation when her family had started to treat her like a servant. Ultimately, his father, the head of his family, gave him a severe talking-to and forbade him from interfering with another family’s private matters. Although Kouji hadn’t been able to openly take her side since then, she still considered him an ally.

“By the way, here’s a little something for you,” Kouji told her.

“…You brought me sweets?”

He had handed her a box wrapped in beautiful Japanese paper.

“Sure did. I hope you don’t mind it’s not one of those trendy Western cakes. I heard they tend to get smashed in transit.”

“Thank you. I’ll share them with the servants.”

“Please do.”

Only then did something occur to Miyo.

“And what brings you here today?”

While he would dress smartly when visiting, his attire that day was more formal than usual, and it was very rare for him to wear Western clothes. Kouji’s expression clouded over at Miyo’s question before he looked away, as if embarrassed.

“Well. You see, I…have an important matter to discuss. With your father.”

He was stumbling over his words. Even though Kouji was the quiet type, he wasn’t normally so evasive. Perplexed, Miyo tilted her head to the side and wondered what was wrong with him. But he simply responded with a “See you later” and quickly disappeared into the house. Miyo was curious about his business with her father, but she silenced her thoughts by telling herself it was none of her concern and reached for the broom again.

She was the oldest daughter of the Saimori family and had been duly entered into the family registry. In practice, however, she was no different from a poor girl of common stock—talentless, uneducated, and plain-looking. It dawned on her that she and Kouji now lived worlds apart. Suddenly, her heart felt heavy. To distract herself, she focused on sweeping until one of the servants came out of the house to call her.

“Your father wishes to see you, miss.”

“Huh?”

“He’s asking for you to come at once.”

“Oh, I-I’ll be right there…”

Miyo had a bad feeling about this. She was little more than a servant to her family, so it made no sense for her father to summon her specifically while he was receiving a guest. Something out of the ordinary was happening, and it filled her with fear. Though she struggled to stop her legs from shaking, she made it to the reception room.

“Excuse me. It’s me, Miyo,” she called out from behind the sliding door.

“Enter,” came her father’s curt response. The hard tone of this command amplified her anxiety, and her fingertips pressing against the sliding door felt icy cold.