“I’m considering recommending you as his successor.”
“…What?”
“Of course, once the contract ends, you may refuse if you wish. But until then, you will be acting as the marquis’ daughter. Conveniently, you resemble my mother, so no one will suspect a thing.”
Have him make a commoner impersonate a marquis’ daughter? Has he lost his mind?
I suppressed my shock and asked,
“But… wouldn’t that harm Lewin?”
“It won’t.”
Dorian’s voice was firm. I soon realized why he could speak with such certainty.
“Lewin will become the next Duke of Brecht after me. I’m not going to marry or produce an heir.”
Good thing I wasn’t drinking tea—otherwise I might’ve sprayed it everywhere.
“…What?”
“So even if you were to become the true heir of the marquisate, it will not affect Lewin. If I explain the circumstances properly, he will understand.”
Dorian casually opened the letter envelope. A clean cut—he must’ve already sliced the wax with a paper knife.
“Of course, it may take some time… but for someone who likes seafood, this will be a good opportunity. Am I wrong?”
He tilted his head, speaking so matter-of-factly that the entire situation felt surreal.
“He’ll want someone who can focus on the territory.”
He gestured for me to check the envelope. With trembling fingers, I opened it.
[Marquis Lukas Theodore van Huebener]
Just looking at the long name made me dizzy. I slowly read the letter.
Beautiful cursive filled the page. In a polite tone, the marquis wrote that he wished to make Lewin his heir—and if Lewin was not suitable, that Dorian should recommend someone else.
Of course, that “recommendation” was probably just a formality. I placed the letter back on the desk.
“But can I, a mere commoner, really play the part of a marquis’ daughter?”
“You were going to need a title anyway if you were to become Lewin’s private tutor. His nanny, too.”
He folded the letter neatly and put it into a drawer.
I pressed him.
“Why didn’t you tell me this when you first offered me the position?”
“Because I couldn’t trust you. I didn’t think our relationship would last.”
Honest and clean—no flattery at all. That made me like his answer even more.
This world is so loosely built that a commoner like me keeps forgetting what is and isn’t possible.
“So now you trust me?”
“Yes.”
Dorian admitted without hesitation. His honesty brought a retort to my lips—Then why won’t you tell me the list of suspects you have in mind?—but I swallowed it down.
That wasn’t what mattered right now.
If I started picking at everything, the questions would never end. Lewin’s situation alone was enough—but even his refusal to leave an heir raised questions.
But that was all unnecessary meddling. I forced myself to focus and said,
“Well, that’s quite an honor.”
But I couldn’t stop my voice from snapping slightly as I tapped the armrest of my chair.
“Then I’ll accept it humbly. Since I graduated from the academy, I suppose I now meet all the conditions to enter high society.”
Dorian nodded. My head began to ache. How had my life become such a mess…?
Like winning a grand prize in a lottery with absurdly low odds, only to find out the prize was a residency on Mars—and I was being shipped off whether I wanted it or not.
Actually… yes, it felt exactly like that.
“It’s late, but instead of a debutante ball, you can make your first appearance at the Imperial Gala. I’ll include that in the contract.”
He spoke while swiftly moving his fountain pen. I was too exhausted to argue.
“Now, pour your mana into this and sign here…”
When he finished drafting the contract, he handed me a sleek onyx quill—an oath-type magic tool. Slowly, I infused mana into it and signed.
He received the contract and infused mana as well, completing his signature.
Then he burned the contract in a smokeless candle. The flames released white ashes that formed matching white bands around both our wrists.
The glowing bands flickered, then disappeared.
“With this, the contract is sealed.”
I touched the spot on my wrist where the band had been. It felt strange.
“What happens when the contract is fulfilled—or if it needs to be terminated?”
“Both parties merely need to hold hands and recite the oath.”
“A verbal trigger…?”
Dorian chuckled softly.
“Unfortunately, no. Think of it as an activation phrase.”
He tidied up the desk, then tapped his wrist twice.
In the air appeared the full text of the contract.
“You can review the terms like this whenever you wish.”
I imitated him, tapping my wrist twice. Instantly, a beautiful floating contract written in shimmering white ink appeared.
I knew these kinds of magic tools existed in academies or learning centers, but seeing one in person made my heart race.
So I’m suddenly a noble…
But honestly, this deal didn’t harm me. The duchy already took care of my safety. A title meant money and power—everything I needed for my quiet dream life.
It was troublesome to remain tied to the Duke of Brecht, but once I had a title, I could investigate things on my own without relying entirely on Dorian.
I needed to be positive. This brought me one step closer to saving Lewin.
I was going to save him anyway.
As I sat silently stunned, Dorian explained the schedule.
“The Imperial Gala is in one month. Until then, you should remain in the manor as much as possible. No outings. The designer will come to you to prepare your dresses and jewelry.”
His gaze then drifted to my dress.
Ah—right. I hoped it wasn’t torn anywhere.
Was he upset that I wore his mother’s dress without permission? Panic surged in me.
I quickly looked down to check. Before I could find anything, his low voice fell over my head.
“If you wish, you may continue wearing my mother’s dresses. They hold symbolic meaning.”
Isn’t that exactly why you shouldn’t let just anyone wear them? But when I looked up, his eyes were so soft—like a sunset over the sea—that I couldn’t say a word.
He added,
“They suit you well.”
It felt as though my heart was wrapped in soft silk—warm, ticklish, and dangerous.
My heartbeat quickened. I abruptly stood up. My voice cracked.
“T-thank you. Then… I should get back. Lewin might wake up.”
“……!”
Dorian looked like he wanted to say something else, but I bolted out of the room.
The servants waiting by the door looked at me with startled eyes.
Good grief…
I cupped my cheeks with both hands.
Please don’t let them be red.
Especially not in front of Dorian.
When I returned to Lewin’s room, Eva and Hartman each commented.
“Oh my! Do you have a fever? Your face is so red!”
“Now that I think about it, you must be exhausted from using magic. You should rest.”
Thankfully, they didn’t ask more questions. They guided me to the bed, where Lewin slept like a tiny angel.
“Um… there’s only one bed…”
Eva flustered. Hartman stopped her.
“A mother sharing a bed with her child is perfectly natural. Please rest comfortably.”
He even winked. I pressed a hand over my still-racing heart and nodded.
I needed rest. Whatever was happening to me could wait.
Eva chased Hartman out, then helped me change into something comfortable from the connected dressing room. Soft silk brushed against my skin.
And again, Dorian’s words echoed in my head.
I shook my head violently.
“Madam?”
Eva looked worried. I cleared my throat.
“Don’t worry. I’m just preparing myself mentally.”
I bit my lip. Why couldn’t I calm my stupid heart?
This was all because Dorian was too handsome.
If he was the villain, he could at least look more rough or sinister. But no—he had to be tall, elegant, and speak in a voice that fit my taste perfectly…
Even our first meeting was terrible, so when did I become this weak?
Was it the seafood feast this morning?
Or because he saved me?
The image of him bleeding from his hand while worrying about me came back vividly. My heart finally calmed, but the heat in my face refused to go away.
This won’t do.
There are countless transmigration novels where the heroine gets entangled with the villain’s family and ends up happy. But that doesn’t guarantee this story is one of those.
Besides, he clearly said he would not leave an heir.
He was shouldering something alone. He planned to give everything to Lewin and then disappear.
That sounded like he might even die for Lewin.
And I believed he meant it.
This is just the suspension-bridge effect!
I pressed my hands to my forehead. My soft hair tickled my palms.
When I grabbed the duke’s shoulders earlier, my hands tickled the same way.
But this was definitely just the suspension-bridge effect—the psychological phenomenon where you mistake fear-induced adrenaline for attraction…
Then… does that mean Dorian also feels a flutter whenever he sees me?
What a stupid thought—!
I almost smacked the blanket but remembered Lewin was there.
Even if he does, what does that matter?
It doesn’t matter at all.
I had bigger problems—like attending a ball as the marquis’ daughter in a month.
As I wondered what dress to wear, his words resurfaced once more.
<It suits you well.>
This statement had a problem.
If Lewin had said that, I would’ve simply laughed. What does he know?
Not that he’d ever say it—he thinks I’m his mom.
But Dorian was different. He was old enough to understand the meaning of inheriting the duchess’ belongings—and he still said it to me.
