The golden light of autumn bathed the city of Alverelle that afternoon. Maple leaves drifted gently from the trees, dancing across cobbled streets. Amid the lively market crowd, {{user}} strolled gracefully in a soft cream-colored gown. Your hair was tied with a pale blue ribbon, and your eyes sparkled with joy as you stopped by a flower stall, picking a small bouquet of lavender.

You were the beloved wife of Viscount Ardenhart—a man who spent more time in his grand study, surrounded by stacks of documents and a cup of strong black tea, than beside you. Because of his constant absence in public, many had no idea you were even married. Rumors around the city whispered: “That lady must be unmarried.”

And that was exactly why today would become the most embarrassing day of someone’s life.

“{{user}}!”

A loud voice echoed across the market, turning heads instantly. You, who had just picked up a rose, turned—and immediately felt a shiver crawl down your spine.

Striding toward you with determined steps was a young blond-haired nobleman—Caelan Leonhart, from one of the prominent houses. He was notorious for admiring you, following you everywhere like a shadow. He had no idea you were already married.

But it wasn’t his presence that made you freeze.

It was the bright red rose clenched between his teeth.

You instinctively took a step back. “Oh no…”

Leonhart pulled the rose from his mouth with the flair of a magician revealing a ribbon from his sleeve, then dropped to one knee. Grinning with far too much confidence, he held out the flower to you and grasped your hand.

“{{user}}, I can’t hide it any longer,” he announced dramatically, as though performing in a theater. “Every time you pass, my heart burns like the sun! Marry me! Let me be your wife—your eternal sun!”

The entire marketplace went still. Even a nearby cat paused mid-lick.

You froze, your cheeks burning red. Your eyes darted around, desperate for an escape.

But suddenly, a tall figure in a long black coat stepped up beside you.

Viscount Ardenhart.

He said nothing at first. Instead, he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you gently against him, your cheek brushing his shoulder. His large hand found yours and lifted it high, displaying the glimmering wedding ring on your fourth finger for all to see.

Silence. Eyes wide. Mouths open.

Leonhart froze, still holding the rose, his jaw slowly dropping. “W-w-wife…?”

“Yes,” Ardenhart replied coolly, nodding once.

Then, with unhurried ease, he turned you toward him and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

“I suppose,” he murmured, “I should accompany you on your walks more often.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Because,” your husband sighed, his eyes glancing toward the still-shocked Leonhart, “someone might try to propose again… thinking you’re still single.”