The heavy wooden doors of the cathedral shut behind me with a dull clack.
The sound cut off the suffocating air inside as if with a blade. The whispers, the probing gazes, the scent of incense mixed with damp stone—everything was sealed away behind those doors.
I stepped down onto the stone steps.
The morning air brushed against my face—cool and open.
My lungs drew in a deeper breath on their own, as if I had just surfaced after being held underwater for too long.
Finally… I was outside.
My heart was still racing, but the weight pressing on my shoulders eased a little. Morning sunlight spread across the cathedral courtyard, reflecting off the puddles left behind by last night's rain, making the entire space shimmer.
I took another step—
A cold drop of water landed on the back of my hand.
I paused.
Then another drop. And another brushed against my cheek.
I lifted my head.
The sky was still clear, the sunlight still bright. And yet, from somewhere above, a thin rain—soft as mist—was falling quietly, the tiny droplets drifting through the light like crystal dust.
Water gathered on my shoulders, on my hair, then slid down along my neck.
Slowly, I raised my hand in front of me, palm open.
The tiny raindrops landed on my skin, cool and gentle, dissolving the moment they touched. They were so clear that I had to tilt my hand under the sunlight to see them glimmer.
I slowly curled my fingers, as if cradling something fragile.
…Rain.
For some reason, the discomfort in my chest softened a little more. The rain was so quiet it was almost inaudible, yet its presence made everything around me feel strangely still.
For a brief moment, I simply stood there, letting the droplets fall across my face—without wiping them away.
"Rosa—"
Miren's voice rang out from behind me, slightly higher than usual, as if she had just discovered something incredibly amusing.
I didn't turn around immediately. Only when I heard hurried footsteps on the stone behind me did I let out a quiet breath and tilt my head slightly to the side.
Miren ran up to me, her clothes already dotted with fine raindrops, her hair a little messy from the wind. She bent down to my eye level, her grin stretched so wide it could barely hide her excitement.
"Hey, hey, I didn't expect that," she whispered dramatically. "Turns out that guy's actually pretty impressive."
I didn't answer. I simply stepped down the last stair and headed toward the carriage waiting in the courtyard.
But Miren had no intention of giving up. She skipped once, then again, darting in front of me like a child who had just heard the most fascinating story in the world.
"That baron," she continued, her eyes shining, "he actually dared to say something like that… that was basically a public challenge to all those shameless nobles—and even the Church."
I glanced at her slightly.
Dangerous… interesting…
"That kind of man is extremely dangerous," Miren concluded, hands on her hips as she leaned to one side as if admiring an imaginary masterpiece, "and women absolutely love that type."
I shook my head faintly, my damp hair brushing against my neck.
"So that's the kind of person you like?" I said quietly, my voice flat, not fully turning to look at her.
Miren blinked once—then burst into a giggle, completely unfazed.
"Of course it is," she replied without hesitation.
I said nothing more. I simply kept walking toward the carriage. The thin rain continued to fall, clinging to the white fabric of my dress and making each fold glimmer under the light whenever I moved.
Miren stayed close at my side, her voice chattering endlessly beside my ear like a small bird just released from a cage.
But I barely heard a word of it.
Enough… today had truly been exhausting.
I pretended not to notice, eyes fixed straight ahead, keeping my steps steady. Once I got into the carriage and shut the door, all of these sounds would disappear.
At least, that was what I thought—
until Miren suddenly stepped in front of me, blocking my path.
I almost ran into her and had to stop by reflex. Tiny droplets splashed up from the stone as the tip of my shoe slipped slightly.
"Miren?"
She didn't answer right away. Instead, she raised both hands to eye level, her expression turning strangely serious—an expression rarely seen on her ever-lively face.
Her hands formed an imaginary circle.
Then her right hand moved slowly, sliding over the ring finger of her left hand—a deliberate, clear motion, as though she were putting on an invisible ring.
I stared at the gesture for a few seconds.
"…What are you doing?"
Miren blinked, as if she had just remembered that I was standing right in front of her, then tilted her head. Her eyes gleamed with a knowing light.
"Ah," she drawled, the corner of her lips curling up, "so you didn't pay attention to anything he said back there, huh?"
I frowned.
"Said?" I repeated. "What did he say… besides those teasing remarks?"
Miren let out a soft laugh, her smile tinged with both teasing and surprise.
"I see," she murmured, crossing her arms. "You really didn't take him seriously at all. Truly the bearing of a duke's daughter."
She even stuck her tongue out at me before raising her left hand again, turning her wrist slightly as if admiring a precious piece of jewelry catching the light.
Without thinking, my gaze followed hers.
Weak sunlight filtered through the thin rain and fell across my hand.
The ring on my ring finger glimmered, its metal surface reflecting tiny shards of light.
In that moment, a vague sense of unease crept into my chest.
…Wait.
The ring exchange.
Fragments of the cathedral flickered through my mind—the prayers, Alasto's gaze, the cold sensation as metal slid past the joint of my finger.
But after that…
There was a blank.
So empty that my stomach tightened slightly.
I looked back at Miren.
"…Did I," I said slowly, each word dragged from my throat, "forget something?"
Miren didn't answer immediately.
She simply smiled—the smile of someone who had just realized their friend had missed an incredibly entertaining scene.
"Alright then," Miren said, taking a breath as if preparing to step onto a stage. "I'll reenact it for you."
She cleared her throat, adjusted her collar, then suddenly pulled straight the decorative cords on her chest as though she were wearing a formal ceremonial outfit.
I stood there watching her, unsure whether I felt more embarrassed or curious.
Miren raised her right hand, palm slightly cupped, as if holding something small. Her thumb flicked upward—a familiar motion of opening a jewelry box. I immediately realized she was mimicking a ring case.
She shot me a glance, and her expression abruptly turned sharp—completely different from her usual lively demeanor.
Then she lowered her voice and began to imitate, clumsily but with great enthusiasm:
"'My heart—and my reason—have always belonged to me, just as they belong to my wife.'"
She paused, letting the words hang in the air.
The rain continued to fall softly around us, but I barely noticed it anymore.
Miren continued, her voice dropping even lower this time:
"'And she has granted me the right to choose for myself… without any intention of binding or forcing me into that choice.'"
She raised her right hand high, as if tossing something invisible into the air, then quickly lifted her left hand as though catching that object midair.
After that, she lowered her head to look into her left palm, her expression becoming overly serious—as if she were truly staring at a real ring.
"Then he said—" Miren lifted her head, her eyes lighting up, "'Therefore… my choice is—'"
She brought her right hand forward, slowly pushing the invisible "ring" over the joint of her left ring finger, completing the motion of putting it on.
"…That's it," Miren finished, letting out a long breath as though she had just completed a stage performance. "He put the ring on himself. Right in front of everyone."
I said nothing.
Miren, however, had no intention of letting the silence linger.
"You should've seen the nobles' faces back then," she giggled, covering her mouth with one hand. "Their eyes were practically popping out. Like they'd just swallowed something incredibly unpleasant."
She tilted her head toward the cathedral behind me.
"Even the priests froze for a moment. But no one said a thing."
Her voice lowered, unable to hide the admiration in it.
"He really is… a very interesting man."
Miren's retelling ended, but the echo of her words seemed to linger inside my head.
He… had put the ring on himself.
In front of the priests. In front of every noble present in the cathedral.
I looked down at my hand.
The ring on my ring finger still glimmered beneath the morning light. Tiny raindrops gathered on its surface before sliding off with the slightest movement of my fingers.
So… I really had missed all of that.
The images inside the cathedral slowly pieced themselves together in my memory—not clearly, but like shards of broken glass reflecting warped fragments of the scene.
I remembered the moment the ring was placed on my hand. I remembered the look in Alasto's eyes. I remembered the suffocating pressure in my chest that made me want to leave that place as quickly as possible.
And then… I had turned my back and walked away.
Without looking back.
Believing the ceremony was already over.
Without thinking that… he was still standing there behind me.
A chill ran down my spine, even though the rain was nothing more than fine droplets.
"At that time… I really wasn't paying attention to anything," I murmured, almost speaking to myself rather than to Miren.
Miren only shrugged, but the smile lingering on her lips made it clear she was still impressed by the scene she had just described.
I bit lightly on my lower lip.
Why… had he done that?
If he had simply stood there and let me leave without completing the ceremony, the nobles would have surely taken it as proof that House Mariel looked down on House Alasto.
But he hadn't done that.
He had finished the rest of the ritual himself.
Not only to save his own dignity—but to preserve mine as well.
An uncomfortable feeling welled up in my chest, something that felt part like shame, part like… a debt.
"Did he… say anything bad about House Mariel?" I asked, my voice a little quieter. "Because I… left like that."
"Not at all," Miren replied immediately. "Quite the opposite, actually."
I tightened my fingers slightly. The ring brushed against my skin, reminding me of what had just happened.
I had been rude to him.
To a man who had just become my husband in front of both the Church and the nobility.
Even if it was only a contract marriage—the ceremony still represented the honor of both our houses.
And yet, I had left him standing there alone.
"I should… apologize," I murmured.
The sound was so soft that I wasn't even sure Miren had heard it.
I lifted my head and looked around the cathedral courtyard, my gaze unconsciously searching for the familiar tall, slender figure with the monocle that always caught the light.
Vangell Alasto…
"Why would he…" I whispered, the sentence trailing off when I couldn't find a suitable explanation.
The more I thought about it, the heavier the feeling in my chest became.
Not because of the ring.
But because… I had made someone else deal with the consequences of my own actions.
I lowered my head for a brief moment, rain sliding across my hair and dripping from my chin.
No…
At the very least, I had to tell him I was sorry.
I had just taken a few steps toward the stairs leading down to the courtyard when a voice came from my left, cutting straight through my thoughts.
"Oh? Isn't this the young lady of House Mariel?"
I stopped reflexively.
The sound of leather shoes striking damp stone followed the voice. When I turned my head, two figures were already standing only a few steps away from me.
The one who had spoken first was the son of Duke Barta—his blond hair neatly combed, his ceremonial cloak still perfectly arranged as though he had not endured the long, suffocating ritual inside the cathedral at all.
Standing just behind his shoulder was a young woman holding a silk fan, half of her face hidden behind it. The eyes visible above the fan swept over me slowly, from head to toe, filled with scrutiny.
I recognized her immediately—Elena, the daughter of Count Ragi.
Elena lowered her fan slightly, her lips curling into a thin smile.
"You really are," she said sweetly, though the mockery in her voice was unmistakable. "Don't tease her like that. Who knows—perhaps in the future, Miss Mariel will inherit her house… and conveniently take control of House Alasto as well."
She paused for a moment, her gaze sliding over me as if weighing every detail of my rain-dampened dress.
"It's just a shame… to overlook my brother—a man so outstanding and accomplished, the future heir of House Ragi—only to align yourself with a minor house that has already lost much of its influence and standing…"
The smile on her lips deepened.
"How disappointing."
Behind me, I felt Miren shift slightly, as if she were about to step forward, but I remained still.
Elena took another step closer. The distance between us shrank to the point where I could catch the faint scent of perfume from her collar.
"Miss Mariel," she said, no longer bothering with her half-playful tone, "I am truly curious. What benefit did House Alasto offer you… to make you lower yourself and become the wife of such a lowly baron?"
Her eyes sharpened.
"Or is your gaze so lofty that you failed to see someone truly worthy standing right in front of you?"
"Elena, that's enough," Duke Barta's son spoke up, raising a hand as if to stop her.
But the corner of his lips twitched upward, his eyes still fixed on me, showing no real intention of ending the conversation.
I could feel it clearly—they hadn't come here to greet me.
They had come to see how I would react.
Before I could respond to Elena, a strong smell of alcohol suddenly flooded the air, cutting between us like a thick haze.
"Give me… more wine… where's the wine…"
A hoarse male voice slurred from behind them, dragging each word as though the speaker himself wasn't sure what he was saying.
Elena frowned slightly and turned around.
From the corridor leading out into the courtyard, a man staggered forward. His brown hair was disheveled, several strands clumped together by the rain and hanging over nearly half his vision. His ceremonial attire was in disarray—buttons misaligned, the hem of his coat smeared with mud.
I recognized him after only a few seconds—the eldest son of Count Ragi.
"Brother, I told you to wait in the carriage," Elena said, her voice lowered, tinged with both irritation and embarrassment.
He didn't answer immediately. He merely shook his head a few times, as if trying to clear his dizziness, then lifted it.
His cloudy eyes settled on me.
Duke Barta's son let out a soft, malicious chuckle.
"I told you already," he said, patting the drunk man lightly on the shoulder. "By tomorrow, she'll be that baron's wife, and yet you still came running over here. Aren't you just humiliating yourself?"
He tilted his head slightly, as if savoring the scene before him.
"You're really bringing shame to House Ragi."
The drunken man said nothing, only stared at me as if trying to piece together memory and reality.
But Duke Barta's son still didn't seem satisfied. He raised a hand and pointed directly at me, his voice growing louder.
"Look at her. The girl you couldn't have… is standing right in front of you."
I felt my fingers tighten unconsciously around the edge of my skirt.
"Elena, take him away," he continued, though his eyes never left me. "I told you before—choose someone you actually love. Why obsess over a foolish girl like this?"
For a moment, the air around us seemed to freeze.
He pretended to pause, as though he had just realized he had misspoken.
"Ah… my apologies," he said with a shallow bow. "'Lady Alasto.' I simply… misspoke."
A sneer slipped out immediately after, with no effort at all to hide the ridicule behind it.
Beside him, Elena gripped her fan tightly, her expression a mix of anger and embarrassment—but not because I had been insulted. It was because her brother was disgracing their family in front of outsiders.
And I, standing in the fine drizzle beneath the weight of their gazes, felt my chest tighten little by little.