There is no happy ending

The last words between them were not good ones for Bliss, who had just lost his fiancée, but for some reason, he agreed.

‘I see.’

Oh, look.

‘The Marquess of Moenings…….’

Now that they were standing in front of each other, with no formalities and no introductions, Bianca had to say hello to Bliss.

Bianca lowered the hand that held her veil. The fabric covered her face, leaving only the vague outline of her features visible.

Bianca held out her hand. It was a very different greeting from the…… Eugene, who always held her skirt up slightly and bowed her head in greeting.

Curiosity, yes, that curiosity.

At that moment, Bliss Winston’s words and Bianca’s greeting brought curiosity to each other.

Would Bianca and Bliss have had a different relationship six years later? Well, I don’t know. It’s pointless to assume.

Bianca chose her words to introduce herself.

‘I am Bianca Moening, heiress and only daughter.’

There is no Eugene Moenning anymore.

It was never Eugene’s place to begin with. It was too precious to be given to a half-breed.

Bianca had thought so since she was born. The title of eldest daughter of the Marquess of Moening was not a title that suited Eugene, who had no sense of nobility.

Now that Eugene is dead and gone from this world, the daughter of the Marquess of Moening is a person. The title of ‘eldest daughter’ is gone, and the title of ‘only daughter’ is left behind.

Bianca has no hesitation in taking it.

Bliss laughed, unmoved. Perhaps instinctively, they both knew.

‘Yes, Princess Moening.’

‘You need not be introduced to me by the Duke of Winston. I have heard much of him from the dead Eugene.’

‘…… Indeed.’

Bliss and Bianca looked eerily alike. So much so that I wondered if a single soul had been split to create two humans.

It was easy to notice the resemblance, and even easier to be pleased by it. It didn’t matter to either of them that this was Eugene’s funeral.

Greetings and handshakes.

Gestures that would mean little to others, but meant a lot to Bliss and Bianca. Hands held explained more than words were spoken.

Along with the fact that Eugene meant nothing to either of them…… and would be quickly erased from their lives.

‘I could not leave you alone in your grief, my dear Duke Winston, and so I have ventured to speak to you with such rudeness, and I thank you for your kindness.’

‘Does it appear to you, Lady Moening, that I am in sorrow?’

Indeed, poor Eugene Moening. But Bianca had no more sentiment than that. To have an appreciation for a dead man was to be an appreciation without a master.

Bianca hates to waste her time and emotions. The dead bloodline was not even a real member of the Moening.

Bliss’s eyes urged me to answer as if he wanted to hear my answer as soon as possible.

She said they were alike, and it was the first time in her life she’d met someone like him. There was a faint excitement that only they could feel.

Bianca, not much different.

‘No.’

Bianca was quick to dismiss Bliss’s grief over the loss of Eugene. How could a grieving person have a face like that?

From the beginning of the funeral, Bliss’s face showed no sign of grief. It was right to deny the question.

Bliss laughed at Bianca’s expectant answer. It was a laugh too clear for a man who, unlike Bianca, did not even cover his face with a veil.

‘So, then, what do you think I look like, my lady, what do you think I look like?’

Bianca rolled her eyes.

Bliss couldn’t see her eyes through the veil. But Bianca thought Bliss knew exactly what she looked like.

‘Rather…… you look bored, bored, bored, and unhappy.’

‘You’ve got it right.’

‘You don’t object?’

‘No. ……Well.’

Bianca didn’t like Eugene. She had no sense of nobility, and she couldn’t like his temper, which was unbecoming of an aristocrat.

Eugene was tearful, sentimental, a disgrace of a Moening, a scaredy-cat, and a blundering blunderer.

Even a half-Mooning would have straightened his back and carried himself with dignity if he’d drunk blue blood. The bitch was a disgrace to the Moening name.

Bianca is a born aristocrat and can’t imagine herself as anything but. It’s not easy to take a liking to someone who is your polar opposite.

And to think that someone so different from her has taken the name of Moening before her.

But Eugene’s death didn’t make her happy. Or should I say, I’m not sure.

But still, Moening. There’s still some sympathy to be had for the halfling. I don’t even want to hate him that much.

Emotion was something I could give to any being worth anything to me.

Bianca was oblivious to the butterflies fluttering in my stomach.

‘Eugene might hear you, saying something like that.’

‘The Duchess is fond of lying.’

‘And the Duke of Winston is fond of foundations, which does not excite me.’

Just as Bliss waited and expected Bianca’s words, so did Bianca. Her words lose their height.

Bliss’s eyes widen at the subtle loss of formality, but only for a moment.

‘You didn’t act like you loved her that much, did you?’

‘He speaks as if he has seen it from a distance.’

‘People don’t always have two eyes and two ears.’

Bianca and Bliss searched each other verbally. But it wasn’t a search at all. It was more like I’d already answered the question and was just checking to see if my answer was correct.

Bianca laughed again, just as Bliss had laughed. It was a laugh that looked exactly like her like she was modeling it.

A rainy sky, a funeral that wasn’t sad. The conversation continued in a space that felt like it was just the two of them, even though others were present. At first glance…… Bianca and Bliss were being watched, but no one stopped them.

‘If that’s what it looked like, it’s what you read.’

‘Didn’t you love Eugene?’

Bianca thinks, yes. Bliss Winston, what an absurd man.

‘I did love her.’

Bliss Winston was thinking something similar.

‘Ohh…….’

Eugene had indeed loved Bliss. Bianca looked at him…… and wondered if people could be so foolish in love. The flushed cheeks, the trembling hands, the occasional wet eye, all spoke of love.

All Eugene had was the blood. And jewels, precious but not so precious to him.

So Eugene, who had nothing by Bianca’s standards, loved Bliss so much.

He loved her so much that he wanted to give her everything he had. He scraped the bottom of the barrel and gave it to Bliss.

Bliss’s affectionate words, the occasional kiss on the lips, her escort, and his whispered words made her happy.

But what of the consequences? What about the truth that Eugene hadn’t realized?

‘That’s a surprise.’

‘…… face.’

Bliss replied in a gravelly voice.

The corners of his mouth were still curled up. His face, which had been so dull and unmoving earlier, was now animated.

Eugene Moening had been killed in a carriage wreck while traveling with Bliss Winston. Miraculously, Bliss Winston escaped with only minor injuries, but the slender Eugene died inside the carriage, her neck was broken.

That was the story inside the Marquess of Moening’s household, no matter how bastardized.

Outside the family, Eugene was treated as such. She was sheltered under the Marquis’s name. Mo Ning made it so.

But, even so, at what cost? What about the bliss that Eugene felt?

‘Eugene…….’

Bianca’s lips were still twisted up. The wind blew. The veil swayed, revealing Bianca’s lips.

Bliss couldn’t meet Bianca’s eyes but instead stared at her lips, which occasionally peeked out.

The rain had abated, signaling the end of the funeral, and soon the dirt would be covered over Eugene Moening’s coffin.

‘Dead Eugene will cry in the other world.’

Poor Eugene Moening.

But that was Bliss and Bianca’s first meeting.

In retrospect, …… that was the beginning of love.

When did it start? From a childhood she can’t remember, Bianca knew she would never have a happy marriage.

Most nobles lived it as a means to an end. Something to sell. A means to make connections, and thus lead the most dazzling lives. It was the same with Morning.

Bianca did not believe in love, nor did she dream of it, but she had imagined her marriage many times.

Perhaps she would bring in a stupid, powerless, untitled nobleman who didn’t like her…… and live with her. Because it’s the easiest, and there’s no backstabbing.

Not a slave, but like a slave. Not to have his name, not to have his things.

I would bring in a man who would have nothing but ambition to match his position as a marquess, and he would take Moening’s name.

Men who have much are often greedy and unwilling to let go. But if she chose noblemen who would give up their surnames, she was left with men of lesser quality in many ways.

It was a poor future.