There is no happy ending

*** ***

On the day of cremation, Bianca looked at Bliss and made that calculation.

Bliss would be the perfect candidate to crown her with a golden crown, and the means to take control of Moening immaculately.

The Moening’s circles don’t want to pass the torch, even with Bianca as the only heir. The main reason for this is that Bianca is a woman.

As a woman, Bianca could inherit the title at any time, and even if she married and changed her name, the line of Mourning blood would not be broken.

One of Bianca’s children could inherit the title and change her surname. But the realms would not allow that.

So Bianca assumed that the Bliss and Winston families would provide her with a line within the family.

There was much to be gained by the Winstons. With the two biggest names behind her, the future would be bright for the family, even after she inherited the title.

It was an overly positive and simplistic prediction, but one that was not far off the mark.

The situation was similar for Bliss. Bianca was the natural heir, but Bianca’s position in the house was limited because she was a woman, and Bliss had no intention of letting the aging Duke of Winston step down.

Waiting for him to die was too long; he had been patient longer than anyone thought possible. The two of them had to achieve something.

The glory of Falborn grows in the west, and the sun of Falborn rises in the north. These were the names of the Duke of Winston and the Marquess of Mornington, respectively.

The Duke of Winston’s wealth was based on the granaries of the west, and his fiefdom and the Marquess of Moening’s wealth was based on the mines of the north.

They could fill in the gaps in each other’s lives, so he proposed.

‘An engagement?’

‘The drawing isn’t bad. It would save time.’

‘I never thought you liked jokes. I thought you liked lies.’

‘When are you talking about the enemy? I’m not kidding, Duke, so think seriously. If your hobby is wasting time trying to find women who can help you, I won’t stop you.’

‘What if I refuse you.’

‘Oh, you refuse me, Breakfast at Falborne?’

What an arrogant tone of voice and manner. Bianca never doubted that Bliss would accept her offer.

Finding the attitude somewhat condescending, Bliss joked.

‘You have a habit of overestimating the value of princesses.’

Bianca laughed.

‘I’m a moening person, and humility is reserved for those who need to be looked at.’

In any case, Bianca can’t marry happily. Nor will she ever meet someone she likes.

She would have to choose a man like she would a stallion, constantly keep him from creeping up on her, and rule over the other nobles in the house.

So, yes, there’s a bit of noise, but it’s thoroughly understandable.

If the Winstons and the Moenings were purely business-minded, there would be little need for the other nobles to interfere. However, if they are naturally promoting marriage and betrothal, the other nobles…… have no reason to oppose them, even if it makes their stomachs turn.

Bianca and Bliss had many options, and they didn’t have to choose each other. But few were as well-suited to unite as they were.

Bianca would never covet Bliss’s Winston, and Bliss doesn’t covet Bianca’s Moening.

So Bianca could have the perfect marriage and the perfect moening.

‘You don’t care about the stigma of sleeping with your sister’s fiancé?’

‘What about the stigma of being said to have slept with your dead fiancée’s sister?’

‘…… You’ve got a nasty personality.’

‘That’s what I’ll say.’

The papers went back and forth. The two were painting a huge picture. As Bianca pored over the documents, Bliss asked again.

‘You’re going to have Eugene following you around for years.’

Bianca replied nonchalantly.

‘Dead men tell no tales, and if you outshine the dead, you shut them up. I’m better than Eugene, and you know it.’

Bliss handed Bianca the signed papers. Bianca signed it, too, and handed it back to Bliss.

And so their contract was sealed. They folded the papers and tucked them into their arms.

As Bianca stood up to return to the Marquise, Bliss asked her.

‘Between now and the time we play lovers, is there anything you wish to say?’

There are things I want to say. Of course, there is.

Bianca leaned down and grabbed Bliss, who was smiling at her, and pulled him closer so that my head wouldn’t hurt.

Bliss’s head dropped, and Bianca, not missing a beat, lifted her heel. Their lips touched. It happened in a split second.

Bianca released her hand. Bliss’s expression was puzzled.

She smiled as she wiped her index finger across his lips, removing the smudged make-up.

‘Put me first in your world. That’s the most important condition, don’t you forget.’

After a moment’s pause, Bliss’s face broke into a bloodthirsty grin.

‘……As you commanded.’

It was the winter of Bianca’s sixteenth year. And thus was born the window-dressing couple who fooled the world.

***

Ding.

A knock on the door interrupted Bianca’s reverie. The knock was followed by Nicholas’s voice.

‘Miss, we’re here.’

Blinking…… looked like John.

When Bianca opened her eyes, the carriage had already pulled up in front of the Marquess of Morning’s mansion.

Nicholas knocked on the carriage door and waited for Bianca. Bianca didn’t answer but slowly rose to her feet.

Bianca looked down at her hand. For some reason, the blood had stopped. Only the reddened handkerchief reminded me that she had lost blood.

Since Bianca’s return home, the marquise has been turned upside down. How could he be surprised that his only daughter, the daughter of a moening person who had gone to see her betrothed, should return bleeding?

First the butler, then the nanny, then the other servants. The only one who did not turn over was the Marquise of Morning, who happened to be in the mansion at the time.

Instead, he was openly enraged.

‘What is this!’

‘It’s nothing, don’t make a big deal about it. Father.’

‘How can I not care when you’re so injured?’

‘It’s just a little blood, it’s not a big cut, so it’s okay.’

Bianca tried to play it cool, but it didn’t work. The Marquise de Moening didn’t believe her, and he took it upon himself to unwrap the handkerchief from her hand and examine the wound.

It was the first time Bianca had ever seen the Marquise in such grief.

What a love for one’s children. What…… of course.

Sometimes Bianca was sarcastically called Nera, not Bianca, which means pure white, but Nera, which means dark.

Nera Moening, who you could poke, and not a drop of blood would come out.

Although Bianca was known as such to the outside world, she was a favorite of the Marquise family.

Bianca was the pride of the House, and she represented the next generation of the House. It was impossible not to love her.

‘Sir Nicholas, I have placed my trust in you to escort Bianca………….’

‘I have nothing to say to that.’

‘Explain to me what this is all about.’

‘I’m sorry.’

Sir Nicholas was the first to be questioned. Nicholas, who had done nothing wrong, kept his mouth tightly shut as if I were a sinner, which was for the best.

What he knew was very limited, and to tell Bianca would hurt her pride terribly. Also, there are certain things you have to do to be Bianca’s Sioux.

You don’t speak about what you don’t know, and you keep silent about what you do know. Therefore, I had no choice.

The Marquise of Moening’s anger continued. It was Bianca’s sigh that stopped him.

‘Ha…….’

Bianca sighed as she rubbed her thumbs and forefingers together on her chapped brow. It was a good thing that the burning in her eyes had subsided during her brief time in the carriage.

It could have been worse if the tears had been visible.

Bianca slowly opened her mouth. It was nice to know she was valued, but she didn’t want to see Knight Amon questioned.

And she knew better than to waste time searching for a cause she had no intention of reciting.

‘And the Duke of Winston.’

The Duke of Winston.

Bianca was on edge, but she had never called Bliss ‘that’ in front of the household.

Bianca had always affectionately called my fiancé ‘Bliss’. The Marquise of Moening paused at the obvious change of address.

With nothing to stop her, Bianca spoke with ease. Even if Bianca’s stomach was churning, it didn’t matter now.

‘We have decided to divorce.’

‘What?’

‘We’ve agreed, and I don’t want to talk about it.’

‘My dear, bibi.’

The Marquis de Mornings wanted to ask Bianca more about her work, but he couldn’t.

Bianca had been stubborn since childhood. One might positively say she was firm in her opinions, but stubbornness was stubbornness.

The Marquise saw the cold glint in her eyes and knew that Bianca would never speak of it. Even if she did, she would never say it.

The Marquise slowly released Bianca’s hand.

‘Father, call for the councillor. I do not wish to stand here any longer.’

‘Bibi…….’

‘Also, Sir Nicholas knows nothing, so stop questioning him.’

‘…….’

Displeasure flashed across the Marquise’s face, but my daughter looked so exhausted that he kept his mouth shut.

What can I do, my dear child?

What can I say, no parent can win over their beloved child.