The Grand Duke Who Wants Me Dead Is Surprisingly Kind - Chapter 2

Chapter 1.2

“Good. That’s how you should respond.”

Nectar snapped coldly.

“Since he’s a wealthy man, this marriage will benefit us as well.”

“….”

But as it always had been, the ‘us’ he spoke of didn’t include her. Bitterly aware of this truth, Anais could only cast her shrinking gaze downward.

︵‿୨ ₊‧꒰ა ཐི༏ཋྀ ໒꒱ ˚₊ ୧‿︵

“Ahem. Th-thank you for coming all this way. Well then, please enjoy yourself.”

Contrary to what had been promised about marriage, Baron Francis was sweating nervously and quickly excused himself. On the other hand, Anais felt a wave of relief as she watched him leave.

‘It’s not him.’

Thankfully, it seemed that death and marriage hadn’t yet drawn close.

Nectar, red with anger, scowled and grumbled.

“Dammit, what a waste of time! Unacceptable. Go become the old count’s second wife, the one who sent the gifts instead. If it weren’t for that cursed young count…!”

As he continued his tirade, a smooth voice, tinged with amusement, suddenly interrupted.

“Surely you’re not talking about me?”

A young man with smoothly combed brown hair and sharp, striking features flashed a bright smile.

Ethel Amitié.

To Nectar, he was a constant thorn. Not only did he lack remarkable wealth, but people also often mistakenly believed he was Anais’ fiancé.

He spoke with his usual relaxed smile.

“I see you’ve also come for the passenger ship venture, Viscount. The briefing has already started over there.”

Nectar’s eyes lit up as his lips curled greedily.

“I’ll return shortly. Ahem. Stay quiet.”

After throwing a sharp glance at Ethel and giving Anais a low warning, he quickly melted into the crowd of nobles. Once her father was out of sight and Anais could finally breathe, she said,

“You should go too, Ethel.”

But he just shrugged.

“I listened in for a moment earlier, but it didn’t really interest me.”

Then, he gestured toward the quaint fountain and added,

“Let’s head over there. I found a nice spot to rest.”

Once they moved to a quieter spot, he turned to Anais and spoke casually.

“Anais, will you marry me?”

“…What?”

“I’m also in need of a marriage partner, just like you.”

Anais furrowed her brows slightly at the sudden proposal and let out a soft, hollow laugh before answering.

“Find someone else.”

The smile on Ethel’s lips vanished instantly.

“Why? Wouldn’t that be better for you too? Rather than traveling all this way just to become someone’s third wife.”

“….!”

Anais’s eyelashes fluttered. Having her unspoken shame exposed, especially in such a direct manner, amid this conversation was anything but pleasant.

She spoke, her expression icy and cold.

“Ethel. You know as well as I do that my father is going to sell me off to whoever offers the highest price.”

His expression hardened at her blunt truth.

“I don’t want to impose such a burden on you, a friend.”

Her voice was firm.

“If you’ve ever pitied me, don’t. Just wish me strength to endure.”

“I’ve never pitied you. That’s not what I—”

But when Anais stared back coldly, Ethel instinctively swallowed his confession and forced out different words.

“What if I don’t mind? What if I’m willing to take that burden?”

“Why would you? I don’t want that. I’ll handle my own problems.”

“…So you’re really going to go through with that absurd marriage?”

Unable to hold it in any longer, Ethel finally frowned and asked in frustration, but her answer remained unchanged.

“Yes.”

“But why?”

Under the relentless pressure of the question, Anais tilted her gaze downward and spoke slowly as though shaping each word carefully between her teeth.

“Because… it’ll make Father happy.”

But even as the words left her mouth, the image of that cold death from her dream, the one that would mark the end of her marriage, played vividly in her mind.

Ethel, aware of her stubbornness when it came to matters involving her father, fell silent.

At that moment, whispers from the crowd drifted to them on the breeze.

“How did he manage to get in? I thought he was banned from all banquets and parties?”

“Goodness. They called him a murderer. Did you see those eyes, reeking of blood? It’s bone-chilling.”

“So crude compared to the Royal Reds of the imperial family. No wonder they call him a hound. He’ll snap at any command the palace throws his way.”

Anais frowned at the sharp, careless murmurs and shut her ears to them. But then, realizing everyone’s attention was fixed on something behind her, she tilted her head in confusion.

“….?”

As she turned, Anais’s violet eyes slowly traced the commotion and halted on a familiar man.

“Ah.”

Caught off guard by the sudden flood of memories, she froze completely.

The man who, in her dream, had handed her divorce papers and a cup of poisoned tea.

The man who would become her future husband—the man who would kill her—stood right before her.