A Formal Welcome and a Sudden Confrontation

Richard bowed his head with perfect courtesy to the woman seated before him.

"Have you been well, Your Ladyship, during this time?"

"Thank you."

Unlike the unease that had gripped her own body under the butler's precise courtesy, the woman's demeanor was far more relaxed. It was as though receiving such treatment had always been perfectly natural to her.

Even setting aside the elegance of her clothing, her very bearing spoke of noble birth. There had once been a time when he, too, had belonged to such a world. Why had he become so humble after stepping onto land? The memories from the mermaid kingdom now felt distant, almost unreal.

The woman was undeniably a radiant beauty. Rich red hair, porcelain skin, rose-tinted cheeks and lips, and eyes as clear and luminous as spring water. Her features were striking in every line, sure to draw every eye in a room.

"Who?"

The moment his gaze met hers, Vivienne quickly lowered her eyelashes.

"...It is Vivienne."

"Ah—."

The woman gave a small sound of surprise and inclined her head.

"What a lovely name. I suppose you are the new maid?"

After the brief exchange of pleasantries, she turned at once to Kian.

"The rose scent you brought in is exquisite, Steward."

Kian smiled faintly and naturally shifted the subject.

"As expected. Duke Larson already knew my preferences perfectly, didn't he? Preparing this for me. What a kind man you are."

The words that left the lips of the Stewardess struck him like a blow to the head.

Already knowing my preferences.

What a kind man.

Such phrases were usually reserved for intimate relationships.

"Yes. Because the fiancé was coming, I took special care."

And Kian did not deny it. In fact, he added a kind reminder.

"Please take your time and savor it."

Fiancee.

The moment the clear word that defined a relationship with another woman emerged from Kian's mouth, Vivienne felt her fingertips grow cold.

"Vivi?"

"......"

"Vivi."

She had momentarily lost her composure. Realizing Kian had called her by that name twice now, Vivienne straightened herself at once.

"It will grow cold."

It was a command, not a question. Do not sit there blankly and wait—follow.

"I am sorry."

Yes. Even though the urge to weep was strong, she could not let it show. After all, it might place Kian in an awkward position.

She had been in love alone from the beginning.

She had wanted alone.

And she had reached for him alone.

In this, Kian had no share. It had all been hers.

So enduring this heart-wrenching feeling, or paying the price of a one-sided gamble, was only natural.

Still, why had she never imagined a fiancee would be there? Even in her time as a mermaid, she had been promised to someone. A storm of emotion churned inside her.

'...I must pull myself together.'

To avoid making another mistake, Vivienne bit hard against the flesh inside her cheek. Then, carefully, she lifted the teapot.

For a moment she hesitated whom to serve first, but she filled Kian's cup slowly first. Despite the effort she put into keeping her hands steady, a tremble remained.

Next came the Stewardess's cup. For some reason, serving Kian's felt less tense. Vivienne concentrated her entire mind on hiding her inner turmoil.

But the moment awareness of the danger arose, it inevitably led to a mistake. In the blink of an eye, tea leaves fell into her cup. What should she do? Her vision darkened.

"Newly arrived, are you? Tea service still seems rather awkward."

She did not display displeasure openly, yet it was clearly a pointed remark.

"I am sorry. I will learn quickly—"

"Who is skilled from the start?"

Kian, who had been lounging with his legs crossed, suddenly rose from his seat. He took his own teacup by the handle, approached the Stewardess, and exchanged it. Then, leaning close to her ear, he whispered softly.

"Thus, I hope Your Ladyship will be understanding."

A somewhat ambiguous smile curved her lips.

"I am not scolding you. I simply find it unbearably adorable that you tremble like a newly born fawn."

The Stewardess spoke words that were neither praise nor rebuke, then lowered her head and observed Vivienne closely with both hands clasped in front of her. Her gaze lingered a little longer on the shoes.

She is looking at the shoes. Vivienne tucked her toes in slightly.

"But, Kian."

The Stewardess lifted her eyes briefly and looked at Kian. Kian did not avoid that gaze.

"From now on, please call me Penelope. We are about to marry. I would prefer if you spoke more comfortably from now on."

A small, empty laugh escaped his lips. Penelope's face, which had been only drinking in that smile, tightened slightly.

For a moment, an awkward silence filled the room. After taking a few more sips without answering, Kian set his teacup down with a clatter.

"I am sorry."

The first words were a terse apology.

"When we become more comfortable, we can do so gradually."

He committed a very polite act of rudeness. Penelope raised her eyebrows and moistened her lips repeatedly with the tea.

"But, Your Ladyship."

As if amused, Kian rested his elbows on the table and propped his chin on his hand.

"Does the tea I prepared please you?"

Vivienne drew in a deep breath. The scent was so thick with rose it threatened to choke her.

There had been a time when, if only she could reach him, if only she could draw closer, she would have done anything.

But it had been nothing but a perfect illusion. The more she learned about him, the clearer it became that he was an existence she could never truly approach.

Her ankle burned incessantly. Back in the room, she saw that the new shoes had rubbed away the skin, leaving bloody streaks. Each time she wiped the marks away, one eye unconsciously furrowed from the pain.

She had almost applied the herbal ointment when she recalled that Kian would find the smell distasteful and stopped herself. Then she stared at the shoes she had taken off.

Was it because they were beautiful? In the pitch-black darkness of the deep night, they remained clearly visible. Just as she had once thought of him as the 'shining male' while secretly watching him from behind a rock in the pitch-black night.

'...Beautiful, but it hurts.'

If she were to express her honest feeling about the shoes, that was it. She had wanted them desperately, yet they had been far beyond her means.

To bite off her ankle with sharp teeth, honestly, she did not know if she could wear them anymore.

She had no idea what spirit had moved her to straighten the room and leave. She had felt as though she were carrying a crowbar on her shoulder.

After that, Kian and his fiancee drank their tea in silence, not even glancing her way.

Special business concluded, there would be no additional tasks, he had said. Richard had told her to rest in her room and even brought her dinner himself, but she had refused because her appetite was gone.

Her insides were filled with unspeakable thoughts, heavy and oppressive. There was no space left to squeeze anything more in. Vivienne curled up on her knees, shrinking into herself.

'There is someone I am promised to marry.'

At first the shock had been great, but after watching in silence, it had not felt like a relationship filled with deep affection. Looking back, had she not been the same? Her father had chosen the marriage partner; they had barely known each other.

So the fiancee was simply the fiancee. Even after reviewing the definitions, the self who felt such meager satisfaction was disgusting.

Whether she had no feelings or not did not matter. If she had not prayed or made a contract with the witch, she would have married the fiancee.

Therefore, Kian could also marry Penelope. Once that conclusion was reached, merely recalling it caused pain.

Father had once said that unions between nobles were not mere love games. By choosing blood relatives, they would strengthen understanding and trust.

Even if Kian did not love Penelope, if it were necessary for that reason, he would marry her.

Therefore, she could never have Kian. The unchanging truth scratched and bit at her heart.

'Then what happens to me? Will I become a bubble after all?'

She had not failed to think about the consequences, but she had never imagined she would have to give up this quickly. Perhaps she had avoided reality by clinging to vague optimism. Her spirit was drained, and she had no strength left.

Was there no other way? No matter how she thought, there was no sharp solution.

Could she prevent the marriage? How?

Did she even have the power to do such a thing?

She had to live, so was she to carry only Kian's child? Lie in another man's arms and bear a child as his wife? Was that not committing too great a sin to survive?

It was all ridiculous selfishness. While pretending to love him, she was scheming to make him suffer.

In the end, this was how it would be.

Why had she fought so desperately?

Thinking back to how she had struggled and flailed for a week, only a sense of futility remained.

She was only human; like a fish cast ashore, she had flailed until now, and she was about to have her final breath taken.

Tears streamed down her parched cheeks.

'I have to give it back.'

Vivienne wiped the tear tracks with the back of her hand and, with trembling fingers, placed the shoes back into their box.

If Matilda returned tomorrow to collect the wages, she would no longer be able to see Kian. It was deep night, so she could not ask for a meeting. Therefore, she intended to leave them quietly in front of Kian's room.

Would she never see Kian again? The fact pierced her chest and it crumbled.

In the repetition of self-pity and disgust, the impulse arose to become a bubble and disappear at once.

Before she was devoured by the monster of self-justification, she would give it back.

Clutching the shoe box to her chest, she stepped out barefoot into the corridor—and faced a large figure standing at the doorway.

"At this hour, where are you going, Vivi?"

It was Kian.