TMET 25

25. The Illusion of Knowing Well
 

She unconsciously fidgeted with her fingers before finally opening her mouth.

“…About yesterday, I’m sorry.”

“For what, exactly?”

“I fell asleep first, didn’t I?”

“Rather than falling asleep, I’d say you collapsed. You needed the rest.”

“My health isn’t really that bad. It’s just… I guess I was nervous because it was my first time getting married. Maybe I was too excited to sleep. That’s all.”

It was a silly excuse. But Damion didn’t press her for more. Instead, he teasingly scolded her.

“This is my first marriage too. If anything, I was more excited and nervous than you.”

“Yes, that’s why I feel even sorrier. It was our first night, and we didn’t even consummate the marriage.”

“Ahem…!”

Damion cleared his throat.

Anshi had said it thinking it was something she should apologize for, but it seemed she had caught Damion off guard.

Maybe because she just brought up the result without explaining the context?

Anshi added an explanation.

“I couldn’t even wait for the reception to finish and rushed to the bridal chamber, only to end up like that…”

“W-Wait a minute…!”

Damion widened his eyes as he looked at Anshi, who was saying such embarrassing things without hesitation.

“To be honest, I couldn’t bear it anymore not being able to talk to such a beautiful wife… I thought it best to head in early—if that’s all right with you?”

Suddenly, he remembered what he’d said while carrying her out of the banquet hall.

“That line…!”

He was about to get flustered but held his words back. His long fingers, which had been still, tapped lightly against his knee. Damion turned his head to gaze out the window into empty space and cleared his throat again.

I said that to make an excuse because you looked unwell.
Saying that out loud felt too much like showing off, so in the end, he chose different words.

“Would you be more comfortable using separate rooms or sharing one?”

“Separate rooms, of course.”

“I think it’d be nice if you weren’t so sharp all the time, Anshi.”

“If you’re asking about comfort, isn’t that what you prefer too, Damion?”

She asked as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. In truth, it was. He’d already made arrangements with the assumption they would use separate rooms.

Yet hearing her say it so plainly made him wonder if he should have surprised her by suggesting they share a room.

“If you really want to share, I don’t mind.”

“…I already set up a room for you, Anshi.”

“Perfect. Then why did you ask?”

Her tone implied: Why ask something so meaningless? though she didn’t say it aloud.

“Because your opinion might’ve been different.”

“Oh. Well, turns out we agree. That’s good.”

Damion felt strangely like he’d come out at a loss, but Anshi seemed visibly more at ease.

Her expression was peaceful—completely different from the tense, serious face she had worn earlier when she awkwardly brought up their unspent wedding night.

Damion realized then that she had been far more worried about that than he’d assumed.

“We won’t consummate the marriage—until you want to.”

Anshi’s eyes grew wide.

She had never considered the idea of having a choice in such a matter.

But if he was giving her the choice, she had no reason to refuse.

“That’s fine. But… why?”

Isn’t it natural for married couples to spend the first night together?

Anshi had only married this man out of necessity, not because she wanted to fulfill the duties of a wife. His response was hard to understand.

Damion turned to look at her directly and spoke calmly.

“Anshi, I know you didn’t marry me out of love.”

“…”

“I’m waiting—and that wait naturally includes matters like this.”

His words were clean, clear, and sincere.

For some reason, her heart stirred. Trying to suppress that, she asked needlessly:

“What if… I never tell you I want to?”

“Then we’ll never consummate the marriage.”

Damion smiled faintly.

That couldn’t be true, yet sunlight poured into the carriage and lit his face. His red lips curved into an alluring smile, and Anshi swallowed hard.

“If you sleep with someone you don’t love, that’s a road that leads to misery, Anshi. So I have no intention of pressuring you.”

His voice was calm, but his conviction was unwavering—as if he had seen the consequences of forcing such things with his own eyes.

“But if you never choose me… I think I’ll be quite sad.”

Then, as if it had all been a joke, Damion furrowed his brow and laughed playfully.

Anshi said nothing—just nodded.

Did that mark also appear on your waist?

She couldn’t bring herself to ask.

Anshi, you must’ve found a good match,

That’s what Sophia had said earlier when they spoke alone.

A good match?

Yes. Sir Damion seems to truly care for you.

When Anshi asked if Sophia knew about the symbol on her waist, the older woman’s eyes lit up.

That’s a mark that appears when the people of Rubelsa complete the ritual of bonding with their soulmate. If your partner loves you, the symbol appears on your body. And if you love them, it appears on theirs.

Is that proven? Are there no exceptions?

Sophia laughed at the serious question, brushing it off as unimportant.

Well, maybe it appears on everyone and people just made up the story. But your father used to say Rubelsans can’t marry without giving their heart. Your father and I both had the mark, as you know. We truly loved each other.

Now that she thought about it, Rubelsan couples really did have good relationships. Starting from her own parents, to her grandparents, uncles, and aunts—

Love.

That was Damion’s reason for marrying her. If that was the condition, it made sense that the symbol appeared on her waist.

But as for his waist…

Anshi didn’t know the answer. And she wasn’t ready to hear it.

The symbol on her waist, which had felt like nothing before, now burned and ached—like a heavy chain tightening around her chest.

“Damion! I was about to forget what you looked like.”

Henette greeted him with a wide grin.

It had been a long time since Damion last showed up at the Rowe Club. He’d been buried in work at the company, dealing with matters he’d neglected during the wedding—and on top of that, a man who used to spend all his time outside was suddenly staying home far more often.

Henette could’ve tracked him down through the companies they were both invested in, but she hadn’t wanted to go that far.

“Missed me that much, Henette?”

“Don’t say weird things like that.”

“Didn’t you just say you were about to forget my face?”

Henette scowled. Damion chuckled, clearly entertained.

“Hey, isn’t this the newlywed himself?”

“Marriage looks good on you, Damion! Look at that glowing skin.”

“My skin’s always been this good.”

Damion, now relaxed on the sofa, easily replied to the other men who’d gathered around him. But the excited chatter didn’t stop.

“So the Lady of Rubelsa is now the Lady Orphey?”

“What should we call her now? The young Lady Orphey?”

“Just call her Lady Anshi, what’s the problem?”

“Then we can’t call her Orphey anymore!”

Lady Anshi de Orphey—the woman who’d taken on the Orphey name through marriage. All this fuss over a shared surname seemed excessive, but at least it was in good humor.

Damion casually added a remark.

“Yeah, she’s an Orphey now. All the stamps she puts down will bear that name.”

He took a sip of wine with a faint smile.

Then someone spoke cautiously.

“I’m saying this out of concern, so don’t take it the wrong way… but is it wise to entrust her with authority as mistress of the house so soon? What if she misuses it…?”

“That woman?”

Damion burst into laughter. His eyes sparkled with lazy amusement.

“She’s too innocent for that sort of thing.”

He shrugged confidently. His certainty only excited Hofrey more.

“Ha! Sounds like you’re totally smitten.”

Trust.

Yes, that was the word.

It was trust that stemmed from the fact that he knew she was wearing a mask.

Anshi wore the mask of a woman who could accept his love.

But she wore it so clumsily, it was practically transparent.

She was terrible at pretending. When he stepped closer, she’d stiffen and tremble.

That wet kiss beneath the firelight—

That had haunted him.

The tears she shed that night had tormented Damion for days.

He’d felt like a monster, like he’d forced himself on a woman who didn’t want him. If she hadn’t clung to him, whispering of salvation, he might’ve fled right then and there.

So…

The woman now known as Anshi de Orphey—she truly had no talent for deception.

Damion believed he understood her well.

The resolve in her eyes to protect her life by accepting his love. The guilt that welled up with it.