The Cost of Pride and Carriage Fare

I used to think I possessed at least a modicum of discretion.

Samuel often called Rose a “tomboy.” Though she knew it was an affectionate nickname, she would always pout whenever she heard it. That was just Samuel talking out of ignorance; among the women of Muhel, Rose was considered quite—no, exceptionally!—demure.

After all, her greatest “deviations” consisted of secretly purchasing the latest trendy romance novels or traveling to a neighboring estate just to verify the rumors that the second son of the Pievan family was as handsome as the capital gossip claimed.

But in the end, perhaps Samuel was right.

She wanted to find a corner and bash her head against a wall. The only reason she wasn’t hanging her head in utter shame and was instead merely keeping her eyes cast down was due to the last shred of her sanity. Even so, the common sense drummed into her as a noble lady screamed at her to keep her back straight and her chin up. It reminded her to remember exactly what status she represented in the capital! At that, Rose’s spine snapped into a perfect, upright posture.

Carrying a letter bearing a family crest meant she was arriving as their guest. There was no telling what might happen if she stayed with the Aisens and behaved in a manner unbecoming of a noble.

She had already shown more than enough of her embarrassing side; she couldn’t afford any more slips.

The carriage had not yet begun to move, and her companion sat in silence, waiting for her to speak. If a person looked that divine, they were allowed to act like they owned the world, but Rose hadn’t realized life was this unfair. How could a person possess both that face and that personality?

Having already mentally praised the character of a man she had just met, Rose struggled to maintain her reason. She stole a discreet glance upward, only for her eyes to snag on the line of his neck and jaw visible above his shirt collar before she hurriedly looked back down. Even looking that far was dangerous.

“Thank you for your help.”

“The guards should be able to catch him quickly.”

Rose, who had only thought of chasing the thief herself and completely forgotten the existence of the city guards, simply nodded demurely. The man gave a slight smile, perhaps relieved that she had regained her senses, or perhaps simply trying to put her at ease. It was a poor choice—at least for the state of Rose’s heart.

The moment she caught the upward curve of his lips, Rose forgot her vow to stay rational and stared at his face as if possessed.

When a smile spread across that gorgeous, yet somewhat chillingly inhuman face, his entire impression transformed. The sharp, upturned corners of his eyes crinkled slightly, losing their icy edge, and his lips—which produced a voice both gentle and firm—were a shade of red no boy back home could boast. For all she knew, her own cheeks were just as red as those lips.

“Since you’ve lost your luggage, allow me to escort you to your destination first.”

Upon hearing this, Rose flinched and moved to decline. Even for someone as shameless as she felt now, there were limits. However, the thought that flashed through her mind froze the hand she was about to wave in dismissal.

How much… was the carriage fare from here to the Aisen manor again?

Rose’s eyes darted as she performed the mental math. A staggering number surfaced in her mind. The internal scale that had been weighed heavily toward “Absolutely not!” suddenly tipped sharply toward “Well, maybe just this once…” It was shameless, yes. But she had already made such a fool of herself; surely this wouldn’t make it much worse?

Pride is important to a person, but it is a matter of time and place. This was an emergency. By any metric, Rose was currently navigating the most treacherous segment of her life. Having lost her bag, she wouldn’t be able to move an inch even after arriving at the Aisen manor until the pickpocket was caught. Of course, it would be faster to contact home for help, but…

She was in a position where she ought to be begging for help, so refusing an offer given freely wasn’t “preserving her dignity”—it was just stubbornness.

Having finished persuading herself, Rose spoke, unable to look him in the eye.

“Thank you…”

It was a voice so small it was practically a crawl, but fortunately, he didn’t ask her to repeat it.

The carriage passed through the gates of the Aisen estate without stopping. It was only natural. They said the capital was even more conservative than the East; a family crest carried immense weight here.

And in this conservative city, inside a carriage belonging to a family powerful enough to swing open the Aisen gates without a second thought, Rose finally let her stiffly maintained head drop.

I’m doomed. Truly, utterly, completely doomed…

Had she not been sitting directly across from him, she would have banged her head against the window.

Muhel was so far from the capital that news traveled at a snail’s pace. Rose could count the famous capital families she knew on one hand. Conversely, that meant those families were so famous that even a girl as disinterested as Rose knew of them.

And Edwill was one of those few families.

Was it a mistake not to check the crest on the outside in her dazed state before boarding? No, she probably wouldn’t have recognized it at a glance anyway.

But still, I should have noticed.

Rose chided herself, pulling her skirt down as far as possible to hide her shoes. They had looked so cute when she first put them on, but now they were scuffed and battered—a source of deep embarrassment.

The atmosphere had been fine when they were introducing themselves. Rose had thought she knew how to act like a refined lady who had been raised on nothing but etiquette. It was a common sibling routine for her and Samuel: she would lift her chin in the middle of a muddy road, her skirts ruined by rain, and say with faux elegance, “You may do so; I permit it,” while Samuel, suppressed his laughter, would kiss the back of her hand and reply, “It is an honor.”

But the moment those shapely lips uttered his name… and the moment she realized that name was one famous even to a provincial girl from the Southeast… Rose had to admit that, without realizing it, she had harbored a certain… expectation. A kind she was too embarrassed to say out loud.

She thought she had accepted her reality—that she was a girl who adapted well to her station. She loved her lively, small estate, and she loved her family. To say she’d never dreamed of the glamorous life found in books would be a lie, but she knew those were just stories. Her best effort had been calling the local boys she’d likely marry “fools, half-wits, and brats” while secretly weighing which one was the least offensive.

But between Samuel’s marriage to Veronica and the invitation from the Aisens, Rose’s eighteenth year had been a series of unbelievable events.

Because of that, it seemed a very, very small and useless hope had taken root. A hope that she might meet a man at her debutante who looked like he’d stepped out of a dream; a moment where they would focus only on each other in a hall filled with music and laughter, as if they were the only two people in the world.

That was why she had been so bewitched by his face that she spaced out, even when it was obvious he was a son of a noble house—and why she had snapped to her senses the moment he said “Edwill.” At this rate, she might return to her estate without achieving a single thing at her debutante because she couldn’t keep her wits about her. She didn’t think faces as spectacular as Llewelyn Edwill’s were common, but one could never be too sure.

While she was lost in self-reproach, the carriage came to a halt. Rose let out a sharp breath and, with trembling hands, took the hand offered by the man—Edwill—who had stepped out first. His grip was firm, allowing her to descend the rather high steps without stumbling.

“I heard you’d be late.”

At the sound of the voice tinged with a smile, Rose turned her head and froze solid.

The man who had just helped her down—the Edwill whose name was famous in Muhel but whose face was, strangely, not—approached the speaker naturally.

They shared a light, familiar peck on the cheek before pulling away. The smile on his lips was natural, unlike the one he’d used to reassure Rose. Rose thought it was a mercy she hadn’t seen his face from the front just then; if she had, the thread of reason she was barely clinging to would have surely snapped again.

The woman had a slender waist and straight shoulders, emphasized by a simple, long dress cinched at the waist. Above that, a cascade of golden hair fell luxuriously.

Right before Rose left for the capital, Veronica had lectured her on whom she should treat with caution. Naturally, the section on the House of Aisen, where Rose would be staying, had been long and detailed. Fortunately, since the Aisen daughter was around Rose’s age and had attended the Academy, it hadn’t been hard to find a portrait. But even without a portrait, it wouldn’t have been difficult to guess who this was.

Can you believe it, Maria? Cecil? I am looking at Lucia Aisen right now.

“It just happened that way.”

“It’s a good thing I listened to Mother and did my hair early. I almost had to greet a guest while picking out ornaments.”

“For that, I am sorry.”

“I’ll give you a special pardon.”

By this point, even Rose, who had zero romantic experience, couldn’t help but notice. She had wondered what kind of woman a man like Llewelyn Edwill would date… it seemed the partner had to be someone of Lucia Aisen’s caliber.

She couldn’t even call him picky. They were a pair so perfectly matched they looked like a painting come to life.