We Will Get Divorced: The Perfect Divorce Plan of the Sacrificial Daughter and the Cold-Blooded Soldier - Chapter 3

“An arranged marriage…?”

The floor seemed to tilt beneath me.

“An arranged marriage has come… for me?”

I gritted my teeth, struggling to suppress the violent dizziness washing over me.

“Not ‘has come’—it’s already decided.”

Oh no. This is bad. I’m not handling this at all. Now even the walls are starting to sway.

“Formally, it will be a matrilocal marriage, but newlyweds don’t need extra company getting in their way. I’m giving you Harrop, which your cousin Kevin currently governs, so you two can live there together. It’s a nice place—the highland air is wonderful. Your belongings have already been sent. Understood?”

“Wait, wait, I don’t understand. This is all too sudden, no matter how you look at it.”

“What, do you have complaints about my decision? As a noble’s daughter, you should fulfill your duties.”

“That’s not—”

That’s a different matter, I wanted to say, but the words wouldn’t come.

Because Father had a point. Noble marriages are political acts for the family’s prosperity. If the head of household—Father—decides, then I, as his daughter, have no right to refuse. I had prepared myself for when the time would come.

But still. Is an arranged marriage supposed to be this sudden? Now is bad timing. Not now. Right now, no matter who the other party might be…

“The other party is the eldest son of the Vraogone ducal house. You know of that family, I presume?”

Of course, I know.

The Vraogone territory lies at the base of the Vishka Kingdom, which extends from the continent like an arm reaching into the sea.

Due to its position, they’ve been entrusted with serving as a defensive barrier against neighboring nations for generations, renowned even among neighboring countries as the ‘House of Martial Prowess.’

On the other hand, being far from the royal capital and having no involvement in internal politics, the gossipy city folk derisively call them the ‘Barbarian Wall.’

Being the eldest son means…

“The Undying King?”

Even someone as ignorant of military matters as me had heard that epithet. A heretical general who doesn’t just defend borders but actively expands territory through offensive campaigns. A demon of war who has succeeded in numerous impossible-seeming operations and always returns alive. His fighting style is said to terrify not just enemies but even allies.

Why would that Undying King be matched with me?

The Undying King is as famous for his aversion to women as he is for his military achievements. There’s never been any special interaction between Eirondale and Vraogone, so why now?

“Has hearing the name Undying King made you cowardly? I’ll repeat myself—refusal is not permitted. This marriage arrangement comes by the king’s personal recommendation.”

“By His Majesty Dimitris?”

I understand even less. Why would the king involve himself in a mere duke’s marriage arrangement? Especially when I’m just a sacrificial noble daughter forgotten by high society.

“It’s not a bad deal, I hear. We’re receiving a substantial dowry. It’ll be a great help to our family’s finances.”

—Finances. Yes, finances.

That word snapped me out of my daze.

“N-no, Father. I truly cannot go through with this.”

“You dare defy your father’s words further?”

“That’s not it. Please listen. I’ve finally made progress with the new business venture I’ve been telling you about. That’s why I can’t possibly leave here now.”

“New business? What’s that?”

I’ve explained it so many times! Suppressing the urge to scream, I held out a bundle of documents.

“This, this! The venture outlined in this business plan. If this gets on track, it could restore our family’s finances. Please, don’t look at me like you’ve never seen this before. I’ve explained it repeatedly. I desperately gathered the operating funds for this venture and…”

Suddenly, I was struck by dizziness more intense than anything before.

Like a lightning strike, it shattered the doubts swirling in my mind.

“Don’t tell me, Father…”

A film of tears slowly covered both eyes. Through my blurred vision, I saw the courtyard clock tower pointing proudly at the blue sky.

That’s right, I’d been wondering all along. How could the Eirondale family, supposedly in dire financial straits, afford such a lavish courtyard renovation? Where did that money come from?

“Father… you haven’t entered Mother’s room, have you?”

“Hmm? Ariadelle’s room? Why do you ask?”

His well-groomed mustache lifted at a distasteful angle.

I knew Father had caught wind of my business funds. So, I hid them. In a place Father would never set foot.

“Please answer me, Father. Did you enter Mother’s room?”

Five years ago, when Mother fell ill with the epidemic, Father didn’t hesitate to distance her. To the smallest, shabbiest room at the northernmost end of the mansion. Theirs was a political marriage from the start—there was probably no love between them. As proof, he never once visited her until she passed away. Though I kept the room preserved through my selfishness, Father still avoids that unlucky room even now. He couldn’t possibly have noticed what I hid behind the matching shorter wardrobe we shared.

Right, Father? Please say that’s right.

“Don’t be foolish, Sierra. Would I sneak into a woman’s room like that?”

…Father.

“Though I can’t speak for what Polina and Lydia might have done.”

The mocking laughter of those two women pierced my ears.

Oh, it’s over. Despair fell upon me with the weight of the entire world.

I can’t believe it. All my struggles, efforts, and hopes over these years—gone like bubbles on water.

I can’t believe this is happening. I couldn’t forgive my own carelessness.

Before I knew it, I had collapsed to my knees. It felt like all the bones had been removed from my body. A white haze clouded my vision, sounds fading into the distance. Despair froze every nerve in my body.

That must be why.

“Your Grace, Duke Eirondale!”

Even when a servant suddenly burst into the room, I couldn’t muster any reaction.

“What, now—you say? Don’t be absurd. I haven’t heard anything!”

“B-but, he’s already—”

What are they talking about? Father was berating the servant with unusual fury.

“Enough! Let him through! What is that youngster thinking?! Coming suddenly for the meeting! Hey, Sierra! How long are you going to space out like that!”

Father’s shouting reached me as if through cotton. What in the world is happening?

Before I could gather my thoughts, the study door opened.

“—Huh?”

Standing there was an impossibly beautiful man.