BOAD 04

4. Even That Is Called Love

Originally, it was customary to immediately recite a vow in response, as if in reply.

But I found I couldn’t answer with the same hollow vows I had before.

I didn’t know if it was guilt toward him, or a faint hope that things might be different this time.

In a subdued voice, I slowly began to speak the words that surfaced in my mind.

“…During our time together, I will do my best to give you only the best. I will do everything I can to protect your safety and peace, and I will live solely for you until the day I draw my last breath.”

I could feel his grip on my hand tighten.

Still, I couldn’t bring myself to look at him and simply stared at the hand he was holding.

“In the name of Amelia Janet Vermerian, I vow before the gods to dedicate myself to you alone.”

For the first time in two lifetimes, I gave him my sincere feelings.

A belated atonement, a determination to live this life for him, somehow.

Even as his gaze touched the side of my face, I didn’t turn to him. I kept my eyes fixed on the holy scriptures.

The high priest looked at us for a moment, then boomed out the next part of the ceremony.

“The vows made before the gods shall be sealed with a kiss that holds true sincerity. The gods shall forever bind your hearts as one.”

At last, the final moment.

The last step to publicly declare us as husband and wife.

Still holding my hand, he used his other to slowly lift my veil.

In this moment, I couldn’t avoid his gaze any longer. I turned and faced him.

In the eyes I once thought cold and jewel-like, there was a strange heat.

I didn’t even have time to ask, “Why?”

He leaned in—not too fast, not too slow.

I had thought it would be a light kiss, just brushing my forehead.

But instead, he turned his head… and kissed me on the lips, as real couples do.

A small cheer rippled from the audience.

Before I could even process what was happening, I realized my hand—still held by Leofric—was now resting on his waist.

He kissed me with a pull, as if drawing me closer.

His lips lingered long and unabashed on mine, more than I’d ever expected. Betty had applied thicker lipstick than usual, and his lips now sat heavily atop it.

His other hand gently cupped my cheek.

It was to hide my startled, wide-open eyes from the view of the onlookers.

His large, warm hand could easily cover my whole face. For a moment, I forgot he was tasting my lips like a lover.

No, perhaps I couldn’t even think at all. It was so unexpected.

This wasn’t just a kiss. It was unmistakably a kiss.

Not something deeply intimate like in private, but still too inappropriate to be shared in front of others.

Leofric knew I had someone I loved.

Even after we were married, he never touched me and turned a blind eye to my meetings with Lloyd.

The kiss dragged on as long as my confusion lasted.

It wasn’t until the high priest gave a discreet cough that I snapped out of it and pulled away.

What I saw next was his languid expression, and lips stained the same deep red as mine—perhaps ruined now.

A shade of red so vivid it almost stung.

The moment I realized my face was burning red, my veil was lowered back down over me.

“Ahem. Thus, before the gods, I declare the sacred union of Leofric Baldini Reinhardt and Amelia Janet Vermerian!”

As the high priest’s voice rang out, a roar of cheers erupted around us.

People whispered words like “Congratulations,” “So romantic,” all drifting into my ears.

Even as the temple bells rang and applause thundered around us, he kept looking only at me.

Or rather, he looked at the reflection of himself in my eyes.

“…”

“…”

No words passed between us.

But something unknown flowed between our locked gazes.

It shook me, who had been losing my senses to guilt and confusion over the changes.

Everything in my mind vanished in an instant.

“It’s time to return.”

He took my hand again and began walking as if nothing had happened.

Was it that passionate kiss—or should I say, that kiss—that changed the way people looked at me?

Amid all the congratulatory remarks, I forgot even to check my surroundings and peeked under my veil to glimpse his face.

Those glaringly red lips kept drawing my eyes.

An angelic face just descended from the heavens… paired with lips that had been reddened in sin.

“Um, Your Highness… your lips…”

Feeling embarrassed, I whispered softly, glancing sideways at him.

Leofric glanced at me, then touched his lips with his fingers.

“Are they very red?”

“Uh… yes. Maybe you should wipe it off…”

This had never existed between us before.

The unfamiliarity made me awkward.

And it only worsened when I saw him swipe his lips with his thumb.

It was a sensual gesture I had never seen from him before, making me more embarrassed than him.

When I lifted my gaze slightly, I noticed the tips of his ears turning red.

Was he aware of how bold and inappropriate that kiss had been?

As his ears darkened even more, I turned my eyes forward again.

Since he hadn’t let go of my hand, we had to walk hand in hand back down the aisle.

It felt odd—neither a formal escort nor a typical ceremonial posture.

Had I ever walked side by side like this with someone, holding hands?

As I looked down at our entwined hands, I was struck by how poorly Lloyd had treated me.

He always held my hand as if brushing past it, letting go the moment his words were done.

Touch so short and light, it left me aching.

The kind of touch one might give a little sister—his affection always shallow and elusive.

At parties, he always held someone else’s hand instead of mine, doing all the things I had longed for.

Even that, I told myself, was love.

As people came up, trying to leave a stronger impression on us newlyweds, I offered polite smiles while we made our way through the crowd.

Every time I realized how foolish I had been in my past life, I fought the urge to contort my face.

A desire to fall to my knees and confess my sins surged uncontrollably.

Even though my face was hidden under a veil, the observant would surely notice the shape of my mouth.

I locked eyes with everyone offering congratulations and forced the corners of my lips up until my cheeks cramped.

At least until I reached the carriage, I had to maintain this uncomfortable mask.

One step, then another—the crowd slowly thinned.

And just when the exit was a few steps away—

“Hah…!”

Thinking it was truly over now, I cast a careless glance forward—and froze.

A familiar color caught my eyes.

The color of the night forest I loved most.

No, the color I came to love because of him—dark and cool, like a deep woodland night.

Lloyd Alois.

The man I swore I would make regret everything for the rest of his life, no matter what.

The one who made me realize just how foolish my past self had been.

In our previous life, he didn’t come to the wedding, using health as an excuse.

But there he stood now, uncharacteristically disheveled, at the far back of the guests.

How…?

What whim had taken hold of him at this point in time?

Why was he here?

My chest, already a storm of confusion, felt like it had been doused in ice water.

Just as I tried to avert my gaze—our eyes met.

He wouldn’t look away from me. And I couldn’t look away from him.

One step. Then another.

I drew closer and closer.

His familiar face. His scent. That all-too-familiar longing… all of it made my heart turn to ice.

Because I remembered how those familiar things had once abandoned me so cruelly.

Nothing had changed.

The only difference in this life was that he was present at the ceremony.

Ignoring the low thud of my heart, I walked past him.

And at last, I broke the gaze that had clung so stubbornly.

The distance between us widened.

And in this life, I turned my back on Lloyd.

* * *

Leofric and I had a wedding that was nothing particularly special.

During the preparations, I had made it obvious that I didn’t want to get married, and he was never the type to pay attention to such details.

Like any newlywed couple, we returned to the imperial palace after receiving congratulations from the many guests.

By imperial tradition, we should have gone to my family’s home, the Marquess’ estate, not the palace. But unfortunately, my husband was the empire’s sole crown prince.

And my father had an exceptional sense of loyalty to the imperial family.

Maybe things would have been different if my mother had still been alive.

Influence from those around us played a greater role in the wedding than we did ourselves—it turned out to be a thoroughly typical affair.

“Now we’ll head to the bridal chamber.”

Still feeling the warmth of his hand in mine, I flexed my fingers absentmindedly.

If memory served, the bridal suite should also be ordinary and predictable—nothing special.

Without any emotion, I followed the palace attendants to the bridal chamber.

But then—almost as if mocking me—the

door suddenly opened.

A small, delicate hand peeked in first.

“Amelia? You’re here!” It was Frey’s cheerful voice.

The palace attendant smiled and stepped aside.

I blinked, trying to focus my eyes and saw a familiar figure step inside.

Frey—the oldest daughter of the Marquess of Silverwoods.

She walked in briskly and threw herself at me without hesitation.

“I’m so glad you made it! I was worried you’d be late!”

We hugged, and her warmth spread through me like sunlight.

“I’m glad you’re here. It’s been a while.”

For a moment, I forgot the tension that gripped my body.

“Frey, what are you doing here?”

She pulled back slightly and smiled slyly.

“Well, I couldn’t miss the wedding of my dearest friend, right?”

“That’s not true. You came because you had to, didn’t you?”

“Of course, I had to. But still… I’m happy to see you.”

Her smile was warm, but I noticed a flicker of hesitation in her eyes.

She glanced briefly over my shoulder and then back at me.

“How are things with Leofric?”

I hesitated.

Should I tell her everything?

Or just say the usual words, to keep up appearances?

Before I could respond, she continued:

“You know, he’s quite the catch. The empire’s heir, after all.”

I laughed, a bitter sound escaping my lips.

“I’m not sure if he’s a catch or a burden.”

Frey’s gaze softened.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Amelia. Marriage isn’t all about love.”

“Isn’t it?”

“Sometimes it’s about duty, or survival.”

“And sometimes… even that is called love.”

Her words lingered in my mind as she left the room.

I stood there, the echo of her advice swirling around me.

Was she right?

Could even this—marriage without passion or trust—be love?

I didn’t know.

But in this life, I resolved to see for myself.