We Will Get Divorced: The Perfect Divorce Plan of the Sacrificial Daughter and the Cold-Blooded Soldier - Chapter 5

“Ah, what lovely weather…”

When I opened the bedroom window wide, the morning sun streaming in began to dissolve the particles of sleep accumulated on my body with a gentle rustling sensation.

The drizzle that had dampened the young grass in the pasture last night seemed to have completely cleared, and in the blue sky, a cloud resembling freshly baked bread floated comfortably in the distance. The sound of dairy cows lowing reached my ears. Taking a deep breath of the moist, young grass scent filled my chest, making me feel as if every corner of my body was being moistened.

“So, this is what they mean by mornings in the highlands being the best. Father was right about this one thing.”

It had been about a week since Julian and I arrived at Harrop.

I never imagined I would actually be taken all the way to our post by carriage like that.

Looking back, everything that day had happened with dizzying speed.

It was a day when every emotion exploded with maximum intensity, all jumbled together. First came joy, then surprise and anger, followed by despair and sorrow, and finally my husband?

Julian, who had whisked me away, drove the carriage at breakneck speed and reached our post that same day. Until a month ago, Harrop should have been the granary region governed by my cousin Kevin, but it seemed the handover had been rapidly completed while I was on my sacrificial maiden tour. The official residence was completely occupied by Vraogone personnel.

There was no chance that any Eirondale servants would follow a sacrificial young lady who hadn’t even been informed about the marriage, let alone the move. I felt like a prisoner thrown into a Vraogone enclave.

The only small comfort was that the furniture consisted of well-used, cherished items. After being led from the carriage to an inner room and waiting for a few minutes, the bed, chest of drawers, and dressing table were brought in one after another. Finally, the Weatherington tea table carrying our marriage registration documents was brought in.

I understood I was expected to sign. A marriage on a single piece of paper—no ceremony, no reception, not even rings. Julian and I became husband and wife in an extremely businesslike manner on the very day we met.

And we haven’t seen each other since.

We eat separately, sleep in separate bedrooms, never pass each other in the hallway, and never bump into each other in the garden. A week was about to pass without conversation, greetings, or even hearing each other’s voice.

“When a man’s dislike of women is this thorough, it’s almost refreshing.”

Apparently, the Immortal King’s aversion to women was the real deal. He seemed intent on maintaining only the bare minimum appearance of marriage to comply with the king’s order and get through this political marriage.

Honestly, I was relieved.

Being told to act as husband and wife with a man I’d just met in a suddenly announced marriage would have been too much to handle. While I had received a proper education as a young lady, I was completely inexperienced in practice. While other girls my age were learning how to send inviting glances to gentlemen in ballrooms, I was learning how to persuade craftsmen at construction sites and how to carry myself so as not to be underestimated by stubborn old men in parliament. For the first few days, I went to bed trembling every night, but if he intended to maintain this white marriage, I had no objections.

…However.

“I wonder how Eirondale is doing.”

Once the immediate crisis passed, this was all I could think about. It might be conceited, but I didn’t think Eirondale could function normally without me. Who would restrain Father in my absence? And what about the new ventures? What must the people who trusted me and promised their cooperation be thinking now?

This won’t do. I can’t stay here—

“Excuse me. Good morning, my lady.”

As if to halt my determination, three knocks sounded on the bedroom door. Entering was the maid assigned to the lady of the house.

“Good morning, Amy. Lovely morning, isn’t it?”

“Yes, a very lovely morning. Oh? My lady, have you dressed yourself again?”

“Yes, I suppose so. I just did it without thinking.”

“Oh dear, you’ve even done your hair. What shall I do? It looks prettier than when I do it.”

“Is that so? That was without thinking too.”

Perhaps because I frequently traveled alone to various places as a vice-duke, I’d developed the habit of doing everything for myself. Nobody at the mansion ever said anything about it, but was it really that surprising?

“If I let my lady do such things, I’ll be scolded. Please, leave the maid’s work to the maid.”

Amy’s large eyes grew moist as she desperately clasped her hands together. I’d heard Vraogone women were lively and strong-willed, but Amy seemed to be an exception. I believe she said she was two years younger than me. A petite but efficient girl with adorable freckles.

“Alright. I’ll leave it to you tomorrow, Amy.”

“Please do! Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll change the bedsheets.”

“Then I’ll prepare tea instead.”

“My lady, please have mercy.”

There’s no need to cry. Is making tea forbidden too? What do noble young ladies usually do anyway?