Sorry, I got distracted by your looks

  

The mansion of Marquis Uzcal in the Harlan Empire, enveloped in pitch-black darkness.

 

*Creak.*

 

Breaking the silence—so profound that even the sound of a needle dropping could be heard—the door at the far west end of the second floor cautiously opened.

 

“Lady Leah, there’s no one outside,” said Millie, the maid, as she carefully scanned the hallway beyond the door before stepping out with a bag in hand.

 

I, too, grabbed a bag, pulled a black hood over my head, and slipped out of the room, muffling my footsteps.

 

As the door quietly shut behind us, Millie and I hurried down the second-floor corridor, descending to the first floor via the western staircase.

 

In my haste, the hood slipped off my head, revealing silky platinum blonde hair that gleamed like a beacon in the pitch-black darkness. Too tense to notice, I didn’t realize it had fallen until Millie, glancing back at me, gasped as if she’d seen a ghost.

 

“Eek!!”

 

“Shh, Millie, quiet!!” I quickly clapped a hand over her mouth.

 

“Sorry, my lady. Hurry and put your hood back on. Your hair—it’s so bright it’s like you lit a candle!” she whispered urgently.

 

Only then did I grasp the situation and hastily pulled the hood back up. Like a candle snuffed out, our figures melted back into the darkness.

 

“Wait! What’s that sound?” 

 

Suddenly, the murmur of voices came from the direction of the entrance. Millie and I ducked beneath the stairs to hide.

 

Moments later, the door swung open, and Juan, the butler, his clothes disheveled, dashed up the central staircase toward the marquis and marchioness’s bedroom on the second floor.

 

“Lady Leah, what’s going on?” Millie asked, bewildered.

 

“I don’t know. For now, we need to get out of here fast…” 

 

Just then, the second-floor corridor lit up, erupting into commotion.

 

“Juan, are you saying *he* really came at this hour?” 

 

“Yes, my lord. I was just as shocked.”

 

The urgent voice of my father, Marquis Derek Uzcal, echoed down, and my face went pale.

 

‘If I get caught now, it’s all over!!’

 

As the sound of Marquis Uzcal and Butler Juan hurriedly descending the stairs grew louder, I grabbed Millie’s hand in a panic and yanked her into the nearest room off the hall, shutting the door behind us.

 

“Lady Leah, who could possibly be visiting at this hour?” Millie whispered.

 

“Whoever it is, they’re clearly out of their mind,” I muttered, my brow furrowing in frustration. If my plan went awry from the start like this, I’d be in serious trouble…

 

“If we’re too late, Young Master Robby will start to worry,” Millie added.

 

“Can’t be helped. Whoever’s here, it’s late—they’ll probably head to bed soon. We’ll leave once it quiets down. Robby will wait that long, at least.”

 

While Millie pressed her ear to the door to monitor the commotion outside, I took a moment to survey the room we’d hidden in.

 

Beneath the soft moonlight filtering through the window, the curtains, lighting, and paintings on the walls revealed a space more luxurious than any other room in the marquis’s estate.

 

“Millie, what is this place? It’s so spacious and extravagant,” I asked.

 

As the marquis’s illegitimate daughter, I’d lived in this mansion for twelve years since I was eight. But due to the marchioness and my half-sister Hailey’s hostility, my world had been confined to the small room at the west end of the second floor. 

 

Unless it was a special occasion, I couldn’t even dine with the family, and I’d only been to the family parlor twice—most recently just this morning. To me, this grand, opulent room felt both fascinating and utterly foreign.

 

“Oh, this is the VIP reception room,” Millie replied, still listening at the door. “Even this morning, the marchioness had the servants scrubbing and polishing everything—it was chaos. They were preparing for someone important.”

 

“Is that so?” 

 

“Yes, they said King Fritan is arriving in five days, so—ah!!” Millie stopped mid-sentence, biting her lip and glancing at me nervously. My face had stiffened the moment she mentioned King Fritan.

 

At that instant, the door to the reception room burst open, and the lights flared to life.

 

“Eep!!” 

 

Millie, who’d been pressed against the door, nearly toppled backward but nimbly darted behind it just in time.

 

“The Uzcal Marquisate isn’t usually this disorganized, but your arrival at such an unexpected hour caught us off guard. To think King Fritan would come at this time! Please, step this way,” said Marquis Uzcal, forcing a polite smile despite the irritation bubbling within him as he ushered his guest into the room.

 

Beside the disheveled marquis—whose clothes he’d clearly thrown on in a hurry—stood two imposing men, followed by the estate’s butler and maids trailing behind.

 

Caught off guard by the sudden turn of events, I stood frozen in place, unable to hide.

 

The rugged-faced man next to the marquis was sturdy enough, but the other, a towering figure a full head taller, exuded an overwhelming presence that made me instinctively lower my gaze.

 

‘Could that be King Mikrok of Fritan?’

 

With his sharp nose and jawline, a pale complexion that seemed untouched by sunlight, and cold, detached eyes, he looked even more ruthless up close. And yet…

 

*He’s ridiculously handsome!!*

 

Even in this chaotic moment, his unrealistically striking features left an indelible impression.

 

*Wait, could King Mikrok be the ‘face-of-perfection’ I’ve been searching for? Should I rethink my plan?*

 

As countless calculations raced through my mind, his sharp, icy gaze locked onto me, sending an inexplicable shiver of intimidation down my spine.

 

“Please wait here for a moment, and we’ll have a bedroom prepared shortly… Huh? Who are you?” 

 

The marquis, who’d been courteously guiding his guest, stopped short. His warm demeanor vanished, replaced by a piercing stare as he spotted me standing like a statue in the middle of the room.

 

“Who are you, and why are you here?” he demanded.

 

“It’s me, my lord,” I replied, resigned. Slowly, I lowered my hood.

 

As my glossy platinum blonde hair and fair skin emerged from beneath it, the marquis frowned in confusion.

 

“Leah? How did you…” 

 

Just then, the entrance to the reception room grew noisy again. The marchioness and my half-sister Hailey, now dressed in nightgowns, hurried in.

 

“My lord, how could you leave such esteemed guests standing like this? Hurry and—wait, why is *she* here, dressed like that?” the marchioness exclaimed.

 

Only then did the marquis take a closer look at my attire.

 

A long black hood draped down past my knees, and beneath it peeked an outfit completely unsuited to the late hour—travel clothes. Beside me sat a packed travel bag.

 

Now, every pair of eyes in the room was fixed on me.

 

“Well, you see…” 

 

I tried to stay calm, but my eyes twitched uncontrollably. How was I supposed to untangle this mess?

 

—

 The Beginning of This Predicament 

This awkward situation began a month ago, when the marquis and marchioness summoned me to the family parlor.

 

In the twelve years I’d lived in this mansion, that was the first time they’d ever included me in a family gathering.

 

I’d always eaten alone with Millie in my room at the west end of the second floor, forever treated like a shadow. I wasn’t even allowed to call the marquis “Father.”

 

So when they called me to the parlor for the first time and abruptly informed me I was to marry the emperor, I was stunned.

 

“Good heavens, His Majesty the Emperor has chosen you as his twelfth wife—what an honor!” the marchioness gushed, brimming with excitement. But the emperor was sixty-three years old this year. *Damn it!*

 

The mansion might look pristine on the outside, but thanks to Marquis Uzcal’s string of failed investments, the family was drowning in debt.

 

The marquis and marchioness saw my marriage—my only asset being my appearance—as their chance to turn their fortunes around.

 

But I had no intention of fulfilling their expectations. I *couldn’t*.

 

The old, raccoon-like merchant emperor of Harlan was not the kind of husband my mother’s dying wish had envisioned.

 

Until I was eight, I lived with my mother in one of the most notorious slums of the Harlan Empire.

 

I still don’t know why my mother, with her radiant beauty, ended up in that slum with me. All I know is that she flatly rejected every man who offered to “take care of us,” working herself to the bone doing every grueling job imaginable to raise me.

 

Two days before Marquis Uzcal came to claim us as his own, my mother—who’d suffered from a blood-coughing illness for years—passed away.

 

Clutching my eight-year-old hand, she left me with one final wish as she struggled to speak.

 

“Your husband must be… *cough*… like th… *cough*… face… per… fection… so you’ll be happy… *gasp*… Leah…”

 

Unable to bear leaving her young child behind, she died with tear-filled eyes wide open.

 

“Mom, no, you can’t die, Mom!!!” 

 

Only eight years old, I was plunged into shock and confusion by her death.

 

And I couldn’t fathom why she’d left me with a dying wish about my husband being a “face-of-perfection.”

 

But in the twelve years since Marquis Uzcal dragged me to this mansion, claiming to be my father, I’d never once forgotten her words.

 

Her coughing and ragged breathing had garbled much of what she said, but those four words—“face-of-perfection”—stuck with me clearly.

 

So there was no way I could marry that old, ugly emperor.

 

I told the marquis and marchioness I’d comply, but I immediately began plotting my escape. For a month, I’d been quietly figuring out how to secure the funds to flee—until this morning, when they summoned me to the parlor again.

 

Dread filled me, and, as expected, it was bad news.

 

“So, my lord, you’re saying my husband-to-be has changed? Just like that?” I asked, staring at the marquis in disbelief.

 

Perhaps he had a shred of conscience left, because he avoided my gaze. 

 

But the marchioness, fanning herself casually as if it were no big deal, nodded.

 

“After twelve years of you doing nothing but eating our food, we thought you’d repay us by entering the imperial palace. But what can we do? It’s His Majesty’s decree—we have no choice but to obey.”

 

She spoke as if it couldn’t be helped, but her face radiated glee, like a weight had been lifted.

 

“You know what the Fritan Kingdom is like, don’t you? The only nation capable of subduing the ferocious Dark Dragon. You’ll become the queen of such a valiant kingdom—what an honor!” 

 

Worried I might refuse, the marquis launched into an exaggerated spiel about the Fritan Kingdom’s greatness.

 

Sure, they’re valiant. And in recent years, their strength had subdued neighboring countries, making them incredibly wealthy. But!

 

Nine months of the year, their land is a frozen wasteland. And the Fritan king’s infamous nickname, widely known across the realm…

 

As I sat there, dumbfounded, my half-sister Hailey chimed in with a smirk, clearly enjoying herself.

 

“No wonder they call the Fritan king the ‘Bloodthirsty War Maniac.’ All thanks to their valiance, right?”

 

Stroking her lustrous brown hair, Hailey taunted me, hoping I’d burst into tears. But I didn’t take the bait.

 

My husband-to-be had merely changed from an old emperor to a war-crazed maniac. If I stuck to my plan, that’d be that.

 

No—since the groom had changed, the wedding would likely be delayed. That’d give me more time to gather escape funds.

 

Deciding to stay positive, I plastered on an innocent smile.

 

“Queen? Wow, just thinking about it makes my heart race! I’ll get to wear gorgeous dresses and piles of expensive jewelry, right? When’s the wedding?”

 

The marquis, who’d been worried I might throw a fit, visibly relaxed at my naive enthusiasm.

 

“The wedding will take place in the Fritan Kingdom. Unfortunately, we won’t be able to attend.”

 

I scrunched my face and pouted.

 

“Oh no, you won’t get to see my wedding? That’s so sad.”

 

“A carriage from the Fritan Kingdom will arrive in five days. You’ll leave on that.”

 

“What? Five days??” 

 

His unexpected words made my jaw drop.

 

It was absurd enough that my groom had switched from the old emperor—with two months until the wedding—to someone else, but to leave for Fritan in just *five days*?

 

I’d have to completely overhaul my escape plan. I felt dizzy.

 

“But how did my groom change all of a sudden?” I asked.

 

“Well, you see…” 

 

A flicker of unease crossed the marquis’s face, but the marchioness cut in.

 

“Why does the reason matter? What’s important is that you’re marrying the Fritan king. Once you’re queen, just think about what you can do for this family.”

 

When I was set to marry a sixty-something emperor at the age of twenty, she’d brushed off my shock and demanded I repay the family’s “kindness.”

 

But I saw it differently. Since my mother died when I was eight and I was brought to this mansion, I’d never once been happy.

 

Marquis Uzcal claimed to be my father, but under the marchioness’s iron rule, I’d never called him that. Nor had he ever treated me warmly like a daughter.

 

If this was how it’d be, why had he even brought me here? That’s all I wanted to know.

 

From the time I turned ten and my beauty started turning heads, the marchioness and Hailey began to see me as a threat.

 

To protect myself from their suspicion, I’d played the role of the naive, frivolous illegitimate daughter—someone they’d never need to take seriously.

 

The marquis, as if soothing a child with candy, said, “Leah, I know it’s a bit rushed, but the Fritan Kingdom’s carriage is said to be incredibly luxurious. Rumor has it, it’s even grander than our imperial carriages!”

 

At the mention of a lavish carriage, Hailey’s eyes sparkled with excitement.

 

“Really? Father, can I ride it before Leah leaves?”

 

The marchioness swatted her arm with her fan and glared.

 

“How about it, Leah? You like carriage trips, don’t you?” the marquis asked, his eyes pressuring me to say yes.

 

Since they’d already decided what they wanted to hear, I’d give them the answer they expected.

 

“A fancy carriage? I love it! I just hope he’s super  handsome… What do you think?”

 

Hailey burst into laughter beside me.

 

“Dream on! A war-crazed bloodthirsty maniac might be good-looking, but he’s still a maniac.”

 

“Always going on about faces. Even as a kid, you trailed after Sir Pallet like a puppy,” the marchioness sneered, her eyes dripping with disdain.

 

Sir Pallet was a knight in the Uzcal Marquisate’s service—one of the empire’s top five knights in his prime.

 

Having lived in the slums with my mother until I was eight, I knew how vital it was to protect myself. The moment I saw Sir Pallet, I decided I *had* to learn swordsmanship from him.

 

But knowing the marchioness would interfere if she found out, I played the part of a starry-eyed fool.

 

“Kyaa~ Sir Pallet, you’re so handsome! I won’t get in your way—just let me watch your face up close!”

 

The marquis, who hated annoyances, allowed it as long as I didn’t cause trouble. From then on, I shadowed Sir Pallet relentlessly.

 

For the next ten years until his retirement, he became my secret swordsmanship teacher.

 

To the marchioness, who didn’t know the truth, I must’ve looked like a shallow girl obsessed with men’s faces.

 

“She takes after her mother, doesn’t she?” she scoffed, her voice thick with mockery.

 

The mention of my mother nearly broke my composure, but I kept my calm facade intact.