Marion's fiancé's eyes were empty as they faced each other.

Neither Marion nor Maxim said a word. The servant, Jean, observed the tense atmosphere between them without speaking, slowly retreating. His hand reached for the door handle.

"I hope the two of you can have a meaningful conversation," he said before quietly closing the door behind him.

Marion didn't even glance at the closing door. Her eyes were fixed on Maxim as if drawn to him. His attire was simple, perhaps too plain for a nobleman, lacking the elaborate decorations typically seen on someone of his status.

A plain frock coat with no ornamentation, a simple red waistcoat, and a white shirt with no brooch. It wasn’t the opulent attire that Marion remembered nobles wearing.

She wanted to see his face more clearly.

Marion studied Maxim’s face closely, knowing full well it might be impolite, but she couldn't help herself. She was captivated by his expression and the hollow look in his eyes.

Beneath his neatly combed hair, his golden eyes were devoid of life. Though the shape of his eyes gave the impression of sharpness, there was no real intensity there. His lips were pressed into a hard line, and his gaze lacked any desire or emotion.

What should I say?

Marion felt flustered. The situation was far from what she had expected. Maxim, her fiancé, seemed uninterested in speaking, as if he had no intention of engaging in any conversation. If they continued like this, the time would pass in awkward silence, so Marion summoned what little courage she had.

“...Shall we sit?” she suggested quietly, her voice barely loud enough to be heard over the ticking of the clock in the room.

Maxim's lifeless eyes shifted toward her. Marion felt his gaze sweep over her from head to toe, lingering on her black hair, then on her eyes. She realized he was studying her mask. Unconsciously, her hand moved towards her mask before she stopped herself. His gaze continued down to her lips, lingering there before it stopped, not venturing further.

The moment felt impossibly long. Finally, Maxim nodded in response to her suggestion. Marion, still nervous, pulled out a chair and sat down. Maxim watched her movements for a moment before following suit and pulling out a chair to sit across from her.

“...Would you like some tea?” Marion asked, offering tea as a way to fill the uncomfortable silence, though she didn’t know why she said it.

Maxim remained silent, which Marion took as consent. She carefully poured tea into both of their cups. As she lifted her cup, she tried to savor the tea on her tongue, though she was too anxious to truly taste it.

The tension in her chest wouldn’t subside. Though the fear she had initially felt was beginning to fade, it was replaced by another, more subtle tension. She took another sip of tea.

Maxim, across from her, sat staring into his cup as if trying to see something reflected in the rising steam. Marion couldn't take it any longer and lowered her head, unable to bear the stifling atmosphere.

“Thank you,” a low voice said.

Marion raised her eyebrows in surprise and looked up. Maxim had finally spoken, holding his cup and sipping the tea. His voice was lower than she expected, slightly rough, perhaps from not having spoken in some time. He drank his tea and glanced at Marion.

The cold intensity she had initially sensed was gone. Now, his face was expressionless, his eyes empty. The sunlight streaming into the room only made the lifelessness in his gaze more apparent.

Neither of them could find the words to start a conversation. Instead, they both sipped their tea in silence. Maxim didn’t ask about her mask, and Marion didn’t question the hollow look in his eyes.

She didn’t have the energy to be curious about him. The tension remained, and the fear had not completely left her. But when she saw Maxim sitting there, deep in thought, she couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking. Yet, she didn’t have the courage to blame him for the silence.

An hour passed in this awkward stillness, the tea cups slowly emptying.

Then, Maxim sighed deeply. Marion flinched at the sound and looked up. He placed his tea cup back on the table. Marion, knowing nothing about him, immediately assumed the sigh was one of disappointment directed at her.

He must hate me. He must be disgusted with his fiancée, someone like me.

That’s what Marion thought as she slowly placed her cup back on the table. She was all too familiar with contempt.

Maybe it’s for the best. It’s better to be despised and have this engagement broken than to be sold off to some noble with grotesque tastes.

When Maxim opened his mouth to speak, Marion closed her eyes tightly. She could easily imagine the harsh words that would follow.

But what came out of Maxim’s mouth was nothing like what she expected.

“I’m sorry for the delayed introduction.”

Marion opened her eyes slightly, lifting her head. His voice, though cold and flat, carried a note of consideration. It had been a long time since she had heard such consideration from anyone.

It felt strange to be treated with kindness. Marion almost wished his voice had been harsher.

“I’m Maxim Appart,” he said formally, inclining his head slightly in greeting.

A formal exchange of names.

It had been so long since Marion had experienced such a thing that she responded in a slightly trembling voice.

“I… I’m sorry as well. My name is Marion Borden.”

Her voice was soft, but Maxim didn’t seem to mind. He continued to look at her with the same neutral expression.

“We’ll be seeing a lot of each other from now on,” he said.

Marion clasped her hands together under the table and nodded. Maxim spoke again, his voice calm and steady.

“I won’t make things difficult for you like I did today. I’ve been… very inconsiderate.”

Marion’s eyes trembled slightly at his apology.

An introduction and an apology—it had been so long since she’d received such treatment. Her heart couldn’t settle down.

“No, it’s… it’s alright,” she murmured, her face growing pale. It wasn’t shyness or embarrassment that made her react this way, but the unfamiliar kindness. It was overwhelming.

“I was the one being rude…” she added weakly.

Another awkward silence settled over them.

There was no more tea left in the pot. Marion unconsciously picked up her empty cup, then set it down again after realizing there was nothing left to drink.

Knock, knock.

A knock at the door startled her. She quickly gave permission for the person outside to enter.

“Did you enjoy your time together?” Jean asked as he stepped into the room.

Marion glanced at Maxim, who stood silently, his gaze cold as he looked at Jean. Jean took a step back, sensing the shift in Maxim’s demeanor.

“Well then, shall we move on to the next part of the day? Dinner is ready. I’ll show you to the dining room,” Jean said, glancing between the two of them.

“My father…” Marion began.

Jean shook his head.

“Master is out on business and hasn’t returned yet. He instructed me to see to your dinner in his absence.”

Jean gestured for them to follow him. Maxim stood, watching Jean closely, while Marion followed behind in a daze.

Thus ended Marion and Maxim’s first meeting—awkward and unexpected.

Maxim hadn't expected much.

In fact, he had hoped for a different kind of fiancée. He had expected someone typical of the Borden family—arrogant, filled with vanity, someone who would sneer at him and treat him like trash.

“Would you like some tea?”

But his expectations crumbled the moment she spoke.

The girl sitting in front of him wasn’t what he had imagined. Beneath her mask, her blue eyes trembled with fear. It wasn’t an act. Maxim quickly realized that this girl had been discarded, used as a pawn by her family.

He had seen eyes like hers before—empty, terrified.

Maxim’s rage softened slightly. He opened his mouth and apologized, watching as Marion’s face, already pale with fear, seemed to grow even paler.

His hatred for Emil Borden only deepened as he felt an unexpected sense of kinship with the girl sitting across from him.

It took him some time to recognize that feeling for what it was.

Maxim and Marion met again two weeks later, at the request of Emil Borden.

Marion saw Maxim again. Without the underlying hostility she had initially sensed from him, her fear subsided slightly. For the first time, they had a proper conversation.

They talked about tea—where the leaves came from, how often they drank tea, what kinds of flavors they liked, and what snacks they preferred with their tea.

The conversation was still awkward, and Marion remained guarded, but it was progress.

A week later, they met again. This time, Maxim’s family invited Marion to visit their estate, a formality expected in noble engagements.

Their third conversation was about Maxim’s family estate.

“Why don’t you take Marion for a walk?” Maxim’s father had suggested. “You won’t have much to talk about just sitting indoors.”

So Maxim had taken her on a walk up the hills behind the estate. The spring grass was soft, and the air smelled of fresh earth. Marion’s shoes and the hem of her dress became damp with morning dew as they walked.

The gentle hills behind the estate stretched into a dense forest. As they walked, Marion, wide-eyed, took in the beauty of the landscape. Maxim watched her with a faint, bitter expression.

“This is the first time I’ve walked in a place like this,” Marion said softly, keeping pace with him.

Her face was pale, despite the fresh air of spring.

“It’s one of the few things our estate is known for,” Maxim replied, his voice uncharacteristically gentle.

“I wish the capital had scenery like this,” Marion murmured before quickly clamping her mouth shut, as if worried she had spoken too much.

Maxim didn’t respond, and they continued walking in silence, the distance between them still palpable.

Their fourth meeting took place a week later, just two days before Maxim was due to leave for his new post. This time, it was Marion who had requested to see him.

They sat in the same room where they had first met, sharing tea and conversation. Maxim was his usual reserved self, speaking politely but saying little. As he sipped his tea, Marion, clearly noticing his formal tone, finally spoke up.

“…You can speak more comfortably with me.”

Maxim raised an eyebrow at her words.

“Comfortably?” he asked.

Marion nodded shyly.

Of course, Maxim was four years older than her. He had been keeping his distance out of a mixture of formality and the strange guilt he felt about their engagement.

Maxim set his cup down and looked at her. Whenever he fell silent and simply watched her like this, Marion would shrink back in fear, her face going pale. Each time that happened, Maxim’s simmering anger toward Emil Borden flared up again.

As expected, Marion quickly lowered her head, her face draining of color.

“If… if it makes you uncomfortable, then you don’t have to… I’m sorry for overstepping…”

“Marion.”

Maxim cut her off. Before her eyes could go empty again, before her voice could fade, he felt the need to say something.

“Yes…?” she whispered.

“I’ll call you Marion, then. But you have to call me by my name as well.”

“But…”

Their eyes met. For the first time, Marion saw warmth in his golden eyes. She doubted her own perception for a moment. Why did it seem like there was concern in those once-empty eyes?

“I won’t ask you to drop the formalities entirely. But at least call me by my name,” Maxim said.

Marion stared at him, unsure of what to say. Maxim gave her a faint, wry smile.

“You’ll do that, won’t you?”

“...Yes.”

Marion saw him smile for the first time. Though it was a bitter smile, it was directed at her. That slight upturn of his lips, combined with the new warmth in his eyes, held her gaze. For the first time, Marion thought there was something more to those empty eyes—something like concern for her.

Why is he looking at me like that? she wondered.

Her hands trembled slightly beneath her gloves.

Was it fear? Nervousness?

No, she told herself.

Then what is this feeling?

Marion bit her lip, careful not to let Maxim notice. Beneath her gloves, her scarred right hand shook as if to scold her. For the first time in a long while, Marion felt a deep frustration at the burn scars hidden beneath her mask.