The Radner Manor was a half-day carriage ride to the Brontë Manor.

On the carriage ride to the Brontë estate, Ania Brontë leaned against the carriage window and thought.

Half a day is a long time for aristocrats. Astronomical sums of money come and go in that time, epecially for a duchess.

As far as Ania Brontë was concerned, she was supposed to follow the Duke Brontë to a business meeting today.

Edward Radner…

She wonder if the dull man even noticed. She hoped he did, but as usual, he didn’t.

It’s the same as it was 10 years ago. The same old dullard.

But the passage of time changes mountains that stand tall and rivers that seem to flow forever.

The seemingly unchanging Edward has also changed.

The way Edward Radner looked at her had no ounce of love. He was being polite and gentle, but she knew it wasn’t love.

He was uncomfortable with her company. Ania could tell he would rather spend his time reading a book or swinging his sword.

It was a clear annoyance.

Edward pushed her away like a man upset there was a fly in his soup.

She could tell by the look on Edward’s face that he was annoyed, as she often felt with men who courted her.

Ania stared at the drifting clouds, then slowly opened her mouth.

“Rickman.”
“Yes.”
“Do you think we can move up the wedding?”

At her words, Rickman, the butler of the Brontë family, sucked in a breath. He stammered as the question became flustered and started to get chills.

“Ah, my lady… may I ask why you made such a sudden decision?”

But, oblivious to Rickman’s thoughts, Ania answered nonchalantly.

“Just… think of it as a whim.”
“… I will speak to the Duke, but…”
“If you tell him I told you, he’ll listen.”

Duke Brontë doted on his daughter too much. He would grant her anything she wanted. No matter how unreasonable the request.

This marriage was no different.

It had been ten years since Radner and Brontë had been business partners, and Edward and Ania had also known each other for that long.

So, there was nothing strange with her request.

“I want to marry Edward of the Radners,” Annia asked her father.

Duke Brontë was puzzled, but he agreed. To him, Ania Brontë was his only daughter, and he loved her dearly.

But if the man who offered to marry her was a worthless wretch, he would kill him at once. So vowed the Duke Brontë, but fortunately, the death of an innocent man did not happen.

Instead, Duke Brontë was delighted to hear Edward Radner’s name. It wasn’t odd, as he was praised as the perfect nobleman.

“Edward Radner…”

Ania quietly recited her old childhood friend’s name. She’d never imagined that the boy who followed her like a tail would grow up to be such a fine young man.

His body is toned, and his style is refined… His personality is as dull as it was when he was younger, but it can be fixed.

But he’s not interested in Ania Brontë. Even when she tries to expose her chest, even when she brings her face close to his, he doesn’t look at her.

“Where am I not good enough…

It was the only thing… that didn’t sit right with her.

***

“The wedding… has been moved up?”
“It has been.”

The next day, William Radner said with a sigh.

It was a huge blow.
I was on the verge of completing ‘100 Ways to Delay Marriage with Ania.’

It had been pushed forward a whole month.
That was like saying my lifeline had been shortened to ten or fifteen days.

“Why?”
“How can you know the affairs of a duke?”

William began to press his forehead as if he had a headache.

“Can’t I ask?”

William’s face crumpled with impatience.

“Don’t ask me stupid questions! How dare you ask what business I have with the Duke.”

“I don’t understand either,” he muttered as he left the room.

So this is what noble etiquette is for… An Earl has no choice but to obey the will of a Duke.

I took the parchment notebook from my arm and added a new line to the ‘List of Noble Etiquette.’

I didn’t understand why asking would be impolite, but I figured it was similar to how a professor might get upset if a graduate student asked a question.

More than that… why is the wedding being moved up?

As far as the original goes, the wedding was on the scheduled date, and the couple was married just as the leaves changed colors in the fall.

I can still remember the wedding ceremony under the crimson leaves.

‘I must have done something wrong…’

I didn’t offend Ania Brontë: I walked her through the gardens at her request and saw her off when she left.

I didn’t forget to lightly kiss the back of her hand (this is the part of noble etiquette.)

… Maybe my perfect mannerisms hastened the marriage.

But Ania Brontë is a woman who does not know love.
There is no way she will fall in love with me.

Or maybe she did…

My heart threatened to explode while we were holding hands.

What will happen if we get married?

After their wedding, Edward and Ania settle into a mansion not far from the Empire’s capital.

Of course, the honeymoon period wasn’t sweet.

While initially intrigued by Edward, she soon lost interest in him.

As a result, she asks him for numerous favors to keep him away from her. She sends him to a place far away from the Empire.

Along the way, she meets many men.
This situation could be called NTR, but Edward doesn’t get angry when he realizes it.

Instead, he blames himself for being away for so long. Were people really this stupid in medieval times?

Edward, who so single-mindedly wished for her happiness, dies in battle against the men who wanted her.

A waste of life. He gives his life for a woman who doesn’t love him.

After driving Edward to the brink, she finds another man and marries him.

This is the end of the original story.

The author said there are still three more books, but I didn’t want to know what happens next. I’m sure the ending would have been something like, “Ania Brontë met a good man and lived happily ever after.

‘I pity Edward… what a cruel woman.’

Writers who write shit like this should be ashamed of themselves.

So I wrote a long letter to the author.
A 10,000-word email that began, “Dear Author, I am a reader who is enjoying your work, but…”

Perhaps it was because of him that I was possessed by Edward.

“Let’s practice…”

There’s no point in blaming him now.
I won’t die, so let’s just try to live.
How do I know if I’ll ever return to my original world?

I picked up the wooden sword from the corner of the room and stumbled out into the yard.

***

“…… Do you, Ania Brontë, Princess of the House of Brontë, take Edward Radner, of the House of Radner, to be your husband, and do you swear to love each other and live happily ever after?”
“I swear.”
“Edward Radner, do you swear before the name of God that you will take Lady Ania to be your wife and make her happy forever?”
“Yes, I swear.”

I prayed the day would never come, but it did.

Amid the nobles with their own agendas, Ania Brontë and I were finally married.

“You’ve finally grown up, Edward.”
“A true nobleman with a truly noble wife.”
“Your wife is very beautiful.”

The faceless nobles approached and pretended to know me. They began to heap praise on Ania Brontë in the name of blessing.

“Thank you.”

I didn’t know who they were, so I simply bowed my head in gratitude.

Ania, on the other hand, was quite skilled. Not only did she memorize the names of countless nobles, but she responded appropriately to rude remarks and bowed humbly to those who flattered her.

But for some reason, I saw sadness in her eyes as she spoke.

Maybe she didn’t like the idea of marrying Edward so much, or perhaps there was something else.

After the ceremony, we said our goodbyes and made our way out of the ornate ceremony hall.

The wedding ended on schedule.

We boarded the waiting carriage and headed to the manor to begin our married life.

“I’m tired.”

Ania Brontë said, staggering.

“Try to get some sleep on the way.”
“When we return, I’ll have to call a physician.”

She said she had been weak since childhood. It was a fact that few but her closest confidants knew, but it was true.

As we left the ceremony and made our way to the carriage, something caught my eye. A yellow flower.

A flower that shone like gold in the brightness of the sun.

“A goldenglow…”

It was Ania Brontë’s favorite flower. I wondered why I remembered something from the novel I’d read three years ago, and the words came out of my mouth without thinking.

I said quietly, and Ania’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Do you know this flower?”
“I know. You used to love this flower.”
“……”

Ania looked a little more surprised than before. She stopped in her tracks, and she was a long way behind when I turned around.

“Did I misunderstand?”
“No… that’s right… It’s my favorite flower.”

Ania strolled, solemnly looking at the goldenglows. The fact that her face was more beautiful than the flower is a secret I’ll keep to myself.

Smiling, she walked to my side at a steady pace and then lightly touched my arm.

“Let’s go.”

I didn’t realize then that her face brightened as she said that.