‘At least it’s not a dress.’
Sylvian fiddled with the white ceremonial robe, hiding his indifferent expression.
“Just say ‘Yes!’ to everything. Don’t open your mouth otherwise.”
The last words he heard before leaving the house were anything but warm.
Practically dragged into the carriage, he had arrived at the Graham Duke’s estate early in the morning—and now, it was already evening.
“All I’ve done is bathe.”
After someone tamed his messy hair, the servants scrubbed him down like dirty laundry.
As if he’d come from some sewage pit instead of a viscount’s estate.
They sighed dramatically while washing him and finally handed over a measly piece of bread and a bowl of watery soup.
‘Guess it’ll be the same here, too,’ Sylvian thought as he quietly finished his meal.
After lunch, they’d dressed him in ceremonial clothes and told him to wait for the wedding.
Since then, he’d been completely alone.
The robe, despite coming from a ducal household, looked rather shabby.
Still, it was the softest, whitest garment he’d ever worn since being born as Sylvian.
“I bet he’s handsome.”
Alone in the room, Sylvian muttered to himself.
Finally, he was about to meet the main love interest.
It had been a long, long wait.
‘Tonight… If I can just get through the first night, I’ll be able to live a peaceful, comfortable life.’
Seeing that the room was much better than the one back at the viscount’s, Sylvian smiled faintly.
Being in the duke’s annex must have helped—no drafts at all.
‘A warm room like this…’
He felt like he could survive the dead of winter without thick clothes.
By this time next year, the original protagonist would appear.
He’d just have to behave and let himself be discarded.
‘I won’t act out. That way, he won’t kill me.’
Spinning hope-filled scenarios in his head, Sylvian dozed off in the hard chair.
Knock knock.
“…”
Knock knock.
Flinch!
The sharp, impatient knocking jolted him awake.
He quickly wiped his mouth to make sure he hadn’t drooled.
“Y-yes, come in.”
As he answered in a small voice, a cold-looking servant entered and clattered a tray of food onto the table.
“The Duke will return shortly. Eat quickly.”
Dinner was no different from lunch.
Was this a starvation challenge?
No—he was already on the verge of collapse from malnutrition.
Pretending to be mindful of the servant’s gaze, Sylvian quickly finished the meal while sneaking glances at the man.
After confirming he’d eaten, the servant jerked his chin toward the bathroom.
‘Bold, aren’t you?’
Or maybe it was just that servants of a ducal house carried pride.
Sylvian brushed his teeth, then checked his neat appearance again.
‘Not bad, really.’
He wasn’t hard to look at—except for the hollow face and fragile wrists that looked like they could snap any moment.
His meltingly golden hair and vivid green eyes gave him a lovely charm.
Bang bang!
“Eek!”
“Come out. Quickly.”
“Y-yes, sir!”
Sylvian hastily rinsed his mouth and rushed after the servant.
“Just wait inside.”
‘Even the annex has a hall like this?’
Sylvian looked around curiously as he entered, taking in the space that looked like a ballroom.
Thud.
The heavy door closed behind him.
It felt like a push, as if telling him there was no going back now.
Sylvian gave a small, bitter laugh.
‘Still… maybe I’ll get the chance to run away.’
In the middle of the empty hall was a wooden platform like a pulpit.
‘Is that where the officiant stands?’
Feeling awkward standing alone in the space with no chairs or people, he slowly shuffled toward it.
‘Don’t tell me I have to wait here too?’
No one showed up, no matter how long he waited.
Sylvian yawned and lightly tapped his foot against the floor.
His legs started to ache.
Having been up since morning with no real rest, his body was finally demanding a break.
‘Hold on… Hold it together.’
One wrong move and off with your head.
Sylvian soothed his protesting body and stared longingly at the door.
Before he realized it, the moon had risen high, casting its light into the hall.
Click.
The lights flicked on in the dim hall.
If he listened closely, he could hear a stir outside.
Sylvian clenched his lips, swallowing hard.
‘Finally… I’m going to see the main character!’
Bang!
“That him?”
“Duke, this is Sylvian Nertian, the young master.”
‘Proper introductions, please.’
While someone who looked like a butler muttered irritably, Sylvian couldn’t take his eyes off Zeroth.
‘He’s huge.’
Shit, I’m really going to die.
As the man drew closer, Sylvian’s head tilted up, and up.
The moment he met those fierce red eyes, he dropped his gaze.
‘Scary as hell!’
Those sharply slanted eyes and burning red pupils looked like they could slice his throat for the slightest misstep.
“Young master Nertian?”
“Y-yes.”
Sylvian tried not to tremble as he answered the calm voice.
“This is Duke Zeroth Graham.”
“N-nice to meet you. I’m S-Sylvian Nertian.”
He didn’t have to try to seem respectful.
The man’s overwhelming presence made his spine straighten on instinct.
‘Please don’t kill me.’
“Kelvin, leave. I’ll handle this.”
“Duke, if you proceed like this—”
“Leave. Bring the officiant in quickly.”
At the duke’s command, the man named Kelvin bowed politely to Sylvian and hurried out.
“……”
Once alone, Sylvian bit his lip, unable to even raise his eyes.
The man was easily twice, no, three times his size, towering over him.
It was insulting—but he didn’t dare look up.
The novel never said he was this terrifying.
“I hope you behave in the manor. Don’t do anything unnecessary.”
“…Yes.”
That chilling warning was all Sylvian could manage to reply to.
The duke seemed satisfied and fell silent.
‘Noted.’
‘Seriously, I won’t mess around.’
While Sylvian was making a mental vow, the duke looked him over—his soon-to-be temporary wife.
He’d chosen someone low-maintenance, someone easy to dispose of.
But at this rate, the boy might die before he even had to do anything.
That deathly pale face, the constant trembling even now—it was amusing in a pitiful way.
“Click.”
“Hic!”
Zeroth clicked his tongue at the stick-like body.
When Sylvian flinched just at the sound of his voice, he knew—tonight was a bust.
A consummated marriage was necessary to make it official.
Either way, he’d have to force himself into that tiny body.
As long as the boy didn’t die.
Zeroth’ dispassionate gaze swept over Sylvian.
“I’m so sorry I’m late!”
The officiant who’d apparently dozed off waiting rushed forward in a panic.
“I now commence the wedding ceremony between Duke Zeroth Graham and Sylvian Nertian.”
Without a moment to breathe, he cleared his throat and raised his voice solemnly.
“Do you, Zeroth Graham, take Sylvian Nertian as your wife—?”
“Yes. Sure.”
‘Um, Your Grace? You could at least let me finish…’
The priest looked flustered but continued at the duke’s chin-jut.
“Sylvian Nertian, do you take Zeroth Graham as your husband—?”
Tap.
Before the officiant could finish, the duke tapped Sylvian’s arm, making him stumble slightly.
“Y-yes!”
But Sylvian understood what the duke wanted and quickly answered, cutting off the officiant’s line.
“Hoo…”
The officiant wrinkled his brow at the duke’s behavior but smoothed out his expression immediately.
Instead, he prayed to the gods, thinking of the massive donation the temple had just received.
‘Dear Demius, please let this marriage last a very, very long time…’
He scraped together what little faith he had left in me and offered it up to the gods.
“In the name of Demius the god of light and creation, I hereby declare the union of these two souls. Seal your vows with a kiss. This marriage is now—”
As the priest spoke of the sanctity and consummation of marriage, Zeroth reached out and grabbed Sylvian by the collar.
“Ghk.”
Sylvian squeezed his eyes shut as Zeroth seized his throat.
The priest, still mid-sentence, widened his eyes at the sudden act.
Smack.
Something soft and warm briefly touched Sylvian’s lips before pulling away.
Their interlocked hands tensed.
When he cautiously lifted his head, the ceremony was already over.
“That concludes the wedding. Well done.”
