This Marriage Must End In Tragedy Chapter 4
Chapter 4: The Man Beneath the Starlit Night
“Did you say… Orphe?”
“Yes! And he’s a direct heir, no less.”
Though there wasn’t a soul nearby, Roma instinctively lowered her voice, as if divulging a closely guarded secret.
“He’s the Duke’s son.”
Ansi inhaled sharply. A jolt, like leaping into a fire, ran down her spine. Her heart began to pound wildly.
The Duke’s son? It couldn’t be Cardian de Orphe—he was already married. Then… perhaps his younger brother? She had heard he had been discharged from the military and had returned to the capital a few months ago.
“What do you think? Interested?”
Roma, ever perceptive, caught the subtle shift in Ansi’s expression and asked again. Ansi swallowed dryly and parted her lips.
“Really? Smart girl!”
Why the sudden change of heart? Roma briefly wondered but decided to shelve the question.
This girl, after all, had a frighteningly accurate sense of her place in the world. Whatever her reason, she wasn’t the type to recklessly throw herself at a duke’s heir in the blind hope of rising in status and then ruin everything in the process.
If anything, the young master might find himself wanting her instead, which could be amusing in its own right.
“For tonight, you’re Lady Larwill. Now, get changed.”
But first, they had to pull off tonight’s task. Roma handed her a dress—a pale sky-blue silk gown that caught the light like a whisper.
Having made her decision, Ansi changed with brisk, efficient movements, wasting no time. Roma moved in with practiced ease, applying makeup to her face. As soft hues graced her fair skin, a gentle glow radiated from her features.
“See? Didn’t I tell you? You’ve got that noble air.”
Roma smiled, visibly satisfied. Ansi, catching her reflection in the mirror, lifted the corners of her lips in a smile—more out of composure than joy.
And with that, she made her way to the arranged meeting.
The venue was a high-end restaurant nestled in the heart of the central plaza. Arriving promptly, Ansi was escorted to a reserved terrace table.
The tables were generously spaced apart, yet the place wasn’t deserted. Most of the patrons belonged to the upper crust. Ansi, conscious of her surroundings, subtly tilted her head down so that her face remained partly concealed.
“Shall we begin preparing the meal once your companion arrives?”
Sitting alone, Ansi turned her gaze to the plaza, steadying her breath. Mackenda Larwill. She repeated the name of the woman who had granted her this opportunity. Just the act of reciting it helped keep her nerves in check.
Not that there had been any need to rush in calming herself, as she would only realize much later.
Ansi glanced at her watch again. 1:40 p.m. Forty minutes past the promised time. Still, the only things sitting on the table were a glass of water and an empty set of dishes.
Though he hadn’t spoken a word, the server’s expression betrayed mild unease—no doubt aware of the time, and the absence of any order placed.
And Ansi too, began to feel the slow creep of anxiety.
Now that she thought about it, the man could easily reject a sudden meeting arranged by the woman’s side. There was no guarantee he would show up.
Ansi let out a soft, sardonic breath. Why did fate seem so fond of dangling hope before her eyes, only to snatch it away time and again?
There seemed to be no point in waiting any longer. She called over a staff member, ready to excuse herself and leave.
“I’m sorry, but please don’t bother preparing the meal—”
A man’s voice cut in.
Ansi turned instinctively in the direction of the voice. She caught sight of a silhouette approaching the terrace, guided by a staff member. A man, clad in a sharply tailored suit, was making his way toward her.
Ansi’s eyes widened, flickering with recognition.
The man’s pace was unhurried, yet his strides, long and steady, covered ground swiftly.
Blond hair slicked back in clean lines, violet eyes that betrayed no emotion, lips curved in a faint smile.
He bore a striking resemblance to that strange man she had encountered not long ago.
Yes… The man beneath the starlit night.
“Your mother has arranged a meeting for you. You are to attend.”
The one who had ordered him to attend this rendezvous was the Duke of Orphe himself. He spoke as though he were doing his son a great favor, arranging a promising match. But his true intent was as transparent as glass.
The woman in question was the daughter of the Larwill family, a gentry house that had amassed significant wealth through the early adoption of mechanical looms.
If he were to marry her, the Duke could, of course, tap into that financial fortune. Yet the woman herself held no real sway in the elite echelons of society—too meek, too proper, too plain to make her voice carry among the proud and haughty.
Lately, the Duchess had taken an interest in charming gentry families like the Larwills. Apparently, she had now decided to use him as her latest tool in that endeavor.
Damion smirked as the pieces clicked together. This impromptu arrangement must have been hatched during last week’s charity banquet. He could almost see the Duchess offering him like a gift to the flattering, obsequious Lady Larwill.
It was all laughable.
He would play along, just enough to maintain appearances. But he had no intention of acting the part they hoped for.
She’s probably some naive girl, he had thought. A bit of coldness should be enough to scare her off.
For starters, he would be late. Just enough to test the limits of her patience.
Forty minutes past the agreed time, Damion finally strolled into the restaurant. If she got angry, that would mean he was halfway to success. If not, he had other discourtesies prepared.
But then… what was this?
His eyes narrowed slightly as he caught sight of the woman sitting on the terrace.
Her voice was soft but unmistakably clear. Damion let out a faint chuckle.
The dress she wore mirrored the sky that day—pale blue, like spring’s gentle breath rather than winter’s chill. Unlike that night beneath the stars, she was now adorned, poised, a vision of noble elegance.
Damion took a seat across from her.
This meeting might prove far more entertaining than he’d expected.
Damion de Orphe. The younger brother of Cardian Orphe, whom she loathed with every fiber of her being. A man through whose veins the filthy blood of Orphe flowed thick and strong.
And… the man she had once encountered at the Ziden estate under the name "Rain."
What would he think of a servant from a southern viscount’s estate now sitting across from him like this?
She stared at him with a hardened expression, but her whole body had gone rigid. Beneath the table, her hands clenched her skirt tightly.
In the meantime, the man took his seat across from Ansi.
“I apologize for being late, Lady Mackenda.”
The name rolled off his tongue naturally, with no trace of suspicion in his voice.
Yet Ansi felt as though something was tightening around her throat.
Was he pretending not to know? Or did he truly not recognize her?
Or perhaps—he had known all along? That night, when she had tried to kill Cardian? Is that why he had watched her from the secluded garden? And now, even here…
“I thought you wouldn’t come.”
Ansi opened her mouth to break the spiral of thoughts. Letting her voice out helped her mind regain a semblance of composure.
The man looked at her calmly, as if nothing were amiss.
When the food arrived, he began eating with perfect ease.
‘Right, there’s no way he could know.’
What his brother had done. That she had tried to kill him. That they had even crossed paths under a starry sky.
To him, none of that would have been of any significance.
Even in this meeting, he had come late as though it were of little importance. One could imagine just how kind and warm the world must have been to this precious young master of the exalted Orphe family. She could almost see the charmed life he must have led.
Yes… the man before her was of Orphe.
She was face-to-face with the brother of her enemy.
And as her anxiety slowly ebbed away, pure, concentrated hatred coiled itself within her like a serpent—and with it, a glimmer of exhilaration.
The fork and knife in her hands suddenly felt less like utensils and more like weapons. If I were to stab him with these… Her enemy would surely grieve, wouldn’t he? Would it hurt him? Thoughts like spilled ink bloomed in her mind, staining everything.
“Is the food not to your taste?”
The man, who had been eating with perfect manners, spoke.
“I understand if you feel uncomfortable. It’s a rather sudden arrangement, after all.”
A small, amused smile curled his lips. Ansi pressed her lips together tightly and glared at him. He raised an eyebrow slightly and said:
“You’re not very good at lying, are you?”
“I wouldn’t be so sure.”
“That dress suits you.”
The sudden compliment left her speechless. She didn’t know whether to deny it or thank him. Her lips parted slightly, frozen as if broken. Seeing her like that, Damion spoke again.
“Shall we take a walk? The weather’s quite nice.”
The hem of her dress, cascading down to her ankles, swayed gently with each step.
By the riverside, nameless wildflowers and white-blossomed trees were in full bloom. Sunlight reflected off the water in dazzling brilliance. It was a peaceful scene, but Ansi knew the river’s calm surface belied a depth that was cold and unforgiving.
What if I pushed this man into the water?
Madame Roma had told her to ruin the meeting anyway. Would murder count as "ruining" it?
She was lost in such thoughts when a soft breeze blew. Beneath a gentle shower of falling petals, the man reached out his hand. He closed his fist around something, then brought it before her and opened it.
A white petal lay in his palm.
“They say that the person you're with when you catch one of these is your destined partner.”
With a meaningless superstition, the man smiled beautifully. His sweet, ticklish words were almost laughable. He probably didn’t even know the real name of the woman standing before him.
“Well, the Larwill family prefers practical benefits over fate.”
“A shame, really. Then…”
He curved his lips into a smile.
“What about you, Ansi?”
Ansi came to an abrupt halt.
It felt like her heart had just dropped to the floor.