The Art of a Brilliant Political Marriage - Chapter 0

I was wearing a pure white dress, which they say brings happiness to the bride, and I was giving everyone smiles under the blue sky. That is what happened today. Even though none of the guests truly felt like celebrating in their hearts, they all put on smiles and acted as if they were in a festive mood. The hollow sound of the applause and the ringing of the church bells all seemed to be faking a sense of blessing.

I do not know how they were gathered, but the guests desperately played their roles as witnesses to this farce-like comedy. No matter what they were thinking behind their stiff smiles. Even the cold wedding kiss we exchanged in front of that audience was merely a duty. Our lips barely touched, conveying no warmth or feeling at all.

To begin with, today was the very first time I met the groom. That fact alone tells the whole story of this marriage. It was my first ever act with my husband. There was no racing heart, nor any girlish shyness. In fact, it was so brief that there was no lingering feeling; it didn’t even feel real.

—And yet, you are going to say something even more painful to me?

Feeling terribly weary, the girl looked up at the man who had just become her husband today. She whispered these thoughts in her heart while in the room given to her as his wife.

Although I had just taken off my pure white wedding dress, I still felt like I was acting. My honest feeling was that I was simply exhausted. However, it seemed the man who was now my husband would not let me rest.

Saves Zikkeldocra. He is the heir to an Earl’s family, and his elegance is something he was born with. At the young age of twenty-three, his behavior is full of confidence and dignity, befitting his role as an assistant to the Prime Minister.

Though he is not a soldier, his tall, slender frame is clearly toned and well-trained. On top of that, he possesses a beauty that makes everyone stare. He has smooth, flawless skin and a straight nose. His thin lips are well-shaped and strangely alluring. His indigo hair is always carefully combed back without a single strand out of place. It reflects his integrity and his flawless perfection.

His sharp eyebrows are masculine, and his almond-shaped eyes are a deep blue-green. They are as sharp as the surface of a freezing lake in winter. While he looks disciplined, he carries a sensual charm, likely due to his untouchable beauty and his terrible reputation.

He has had many scandals with various women, but he never looks back at a woman once he has slept with her. He is a cold-hearted “Hunter of Love.” Just as the gossip papers claim every day, no emotion shows in the depths of his cold eyes.

My husband, who suddenly came into the room, remains unmoved even in front of a bride trembling at a political marriage. He pushed the girl onto the hard bed and simply looked down at her with a cold, mechanical gaze.

“I have no intention of sleeping with you. I intend for us to have separate bedrooms. If you have come here with some tragic determination to give birth to an heir for my family, I thought I should tell you that it is a waste of effort.”

After saying that, he fell silent and stood up. At the moment he said it, I felt weary, but as time passed, the feeling slowly began to sink in.

My husband’s voice is low but easy to hear. As the girl sat up with him, she quickly looked down, trying to suppress the emotions suddenly surging within her. Then, her delicate shoulders began to tremble.

It was already enough. Her already exhausted spirit shook violently from this further attack. Perhaps satisfied by seeing her like this, Saves turned on his heel and left the room. He likely decided that staying longer would be a hassle.

A political marriage without love.

His family wanted the girl’s dowry. Her family likely wanted his noble title. Her father’s true motives were unclear, but she could guess that much. As for her husband, since this match was arranged by his father, Earl Zikkeldocra, he probably found it to be nothing but a nuisance. It was not his job to comfort her, and his words might have been his own way of making sure the “pitiful bride” didn’t get the wrong idea.

That was the extent of her husband’s feelings. In other words, he could not possibly imagine how the girl was actually feeling. Left alone on the bed, the girl gripped her indoor dress tightly. Now that everyone was gone, she could finally release her emotions. The breath she took was raspy in her throat. The dry sound was trembling uncontrollably.

“…Oh, this is just ideal.  To think he would give me such a reward at the end of the day, it’s just too perfect—!”

—Because her dream is to have a political marriage and be mistreated by her new family.