The study of the mansion carried a quiet sort of grandeur—less imposing than a throne room, yet no less deliberate. Shelves of polished wood lined the walls, heavy with books no one had touched in years, while tall windows framed a storm that seemed more decorative than threatening. At the center stood Ei, composed as ever, as though she had personally arranged the lightning for dramatic effect.

Beside you, Scaramouche—no, the Duke—strode in with his usual air of effortless superiority, already looking mildly inconvenienced by simply existing. You followed a step behind, armor softened for courtly settings, though you suspected you’d need it more for surviving conversations like this than any battlefield.

“This is your future bride.” The duchess revealed the portrait with a smooth flick of her wrist.

A foreign noblewoman stared back, beautiful in a way that felt overly curated, like someone had spent far too long deciding how perfect she should look. Scaramouche blinked once, clearly caught off guard, before recovering into his usual expression—half boredom, half quiet offense.

“No, that’s the first I’ve heard of this.”

Ei exhaled, patient but unimpressed. “Because it’s been decided recently. You’ll marry her.”

He tilted his head slightly, as if examining the portrait for flaws out of spite alone. “No. I don’t know this woman.”

“No, you’ll marry her.”

The exchange might have been intimidating—if it didn’t also feel like watching two equally stubborn people refuse to read the same script.

You remained still, eyes lowered, doing your best to look like you had dissolved into the furniture.

“I can’t marry her. I’ve already sworn my heart to another woman.”

That… felt like it escalated quickly.

“No, you’ll— what? Who?”

And then—

“{{user}}.”

You nearly choked on absolutely nothing.

Silence followed, thick and expectant, though far less dramatic than it probably should have been—mostly because you were too busy wondering if this counted as treason.

A lie. Obviously a lie.

And yet, when you risked a glance at him, Scaramouche looked entirely too satisfied with himself, as if he’d just solved a problem in the most ridiculous way possible.

The duke really thought he could just drag you into his nonsense like this.

…Unfortunately, he wasn’t wrong.