A Mad Lady’s Confession - Chapter 6

Matthias let out a sigh as he climbed into the carriage.

The large wheels passed through the Nielsen gates and began rolling toward the center of the capital.

As always, his bored, meaningless gaze lingered on the scenery beyond the carriage window. The world beyond the glass hadn’t changed much since he was very young.

“The capital’s always like that. It hates change, new things, and anything different from the rest. As if it were some kind of contagious disease.”

If nothing else, the Crown Prince’s assessment of the capital was accurate. No, perhaps all of Lemren was like that.

Everything was simply stagnant. Overflowing wealth, pleasure, luxury, etiquette, authority, obligation. Everything was mixed together, unmoving and unchanged, just sitting there in stagnation. Rotting.

This was why he spent most of his time in Gammelstad unless it was the mandatory social season. If he had to choose, he’d rather smell the fishiness of the sea than the stench of rot.

Then a dry laugh escaped him. After all, the one who enjoyed the most wealth and honor in that stagnant rot was him.

When he accepted the Crown Prince’s one-year proposal, he added conditions of permanent tax reduction for his territory and authorization to reinforce his private troops. How Klaus intended to secure the Emperor’s approval was none of his concern.

The Crown Prince could silence the Brynhill family and avoid another troublesome scandal, and the mentally deranged young lady whose only future had been a monastery could at least return to society. Even if only for one year, she’d have a reasonably presentable husband.

Thanks to the indulgent emperor, Lemren had a lenient attitude toward divorce and remarriage. After the marriage ended, she’d receive appropriate alimony, so it wouldn’t be difficult for Lady Brynhill to marry again.

“…I’m no different.”

Wasn’t this exactly the kind of calculation Lemren’s nobles excelled at?

Realizing he occupied a place within that disgusting, stagnant pool, Matthias let out a cynical laugh.

When the carriage stopped at the designated meeting place, he stepped down immediately and headed into the theater, waiting for his betrothed.

He had chosen his own grand theater as today’s meeting location. It was his way of avoiding becoming a spectacle for the city in the crowded streets.

And he felt the need to look over the young lady who would be his wife for a year in a quiet, calm space. More than anything, he needed to see whether her mind was intact.

Wandering slowly through the lobby, Matthias went over what he knew about the woman.

Eleanor Brynhill, twenty years old this year….

Damn it.

Thinking over her age, he let out a short breath. Even if Lemren’s noble ladies were trained diligently as brides from a young age, it was still too early for someone of that age to serve as the mistress of a household.

Anyway, she was the youngest daughter of the count’s family, with an older brother and sister. The previous count had passed away a few years ago, succeeded by her brother, Count Rumrow Brynhill.

Thinking about it, even the former count had been an odd man. Though House Brynhill had some history behind it, he rarely left his estate, avoiding both noble councils and social gatherings.

After becoming head of his own household, Matthias realized he’d barely heard the name Brynhill before now.

Returning to Eleanor Brynhill. It was said she had mental issues, and even after her debutante, she hadn’t shown any active social gestures.

He’d never seen her himself either. All he’d ever seen was the delicate, fragile back view printed on the front page of the newspaper.

The moment news of the marriage was announced, Princess Alicia flew over and hesitantly told him what she’d heard.

A pale face, dragging long, blood-red hair, shadows under her eyes, and a gaze filled with a murderous aura strong enough to suck the life out of a person.

She hadn’t even seen her in person, but Alicia said such things as if she had.

He didn’t see why a woman’s appearance mattered when he was about to bring a mad lady into his household as its mistress. Even if she were hideous, he would’ve felt nothing. He intended to spend the year as if she were barely there.

“Your guest has arrived.”

At the announcement, Matthias stepped through the central doors of the lobby, and a white carriage slowly came to a stop. He fastened the front button of his jacket and straightened his posture.

The moment that carriage door opened, the long year of patience would begin again, he reminded himself.

Whether the woman inside was ugly or insane, whether she really radiated murderous intent like the rumors said, he wouldn’t care. Not if it worked to his advantage.

He approached the door to escort her.

Click. As the coachman opened the door, slender white fingers reached out. He lightly supported them, and as he lowered his gaze toward the carriage interior to greet her, he froze for a moment.

“….”

Pink hair under a bonnet fluttered lightly as she tilted her head. With that small movement, a faint scent like fresh apples brushed past his nose.

“Duke Nielsen…?”

When their eyes met at her call, the woman’s cheeks flushed red at once. He realized a beat later that this was a very familiar kind of embarrassment.

“…Lady Brynhill.”

As she smiled faintly, neat, pearl-like white teeth showed.

“It’s an honor to meet you like this.”

The woman lowered her gaze, her voice growing smaller at the end as if from nervousness.

When no proper reply came from him, she lifted her eyes slightly. The sight was so ordinary, so typical of a noble young lady, it startled him.

Ah, to put it more precisely….

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lady Brynhill.”

Eleanor Brynhill, the woman rumored to have lost her mind, was astonishingly normal and beautiful.

***

Matthias Nielsen had many interests. Those who had too much and were bored always sought new distractions, so perhaps it was natural.

Reflecting his varied interests, he owned numerous businesses.

Aside from the largest grand theater in the capital and the smaller theater in his territory, Gammelstad, he even owned a department store and a newspaper company. His business sense was excellent.

If there was something he’d learned through all those businesses and interests, it was that anything heard through others should only be believed halfway.

Just like now.

When their eyes met, the woman looked slightly startled and lowered her gaze again. Her eyelashes fluttered down like a butterfly’s wings.

Matching her small, narrow steps, he walked slowly and remembered his past self.

There was no one in the world who disliked beautiful things. Matthias was no different, and if anything, his standards were higher than the average person’s.

By those standards, Eleanor Brynhill wasn’t bad at all. In fact, she surpassed ordinary beauty by his measurements.

When he opened the carriage door and found her there, the sensation that tingled in the back of his head wasn’t because she was dazzlingly beautiful, but because her appearance was so completely at odds with society’s portrayal of her. He interpreted his momentary disturbance that way.

“Did I do something wrong?”

Her question brought his drifting thoughts back. Following the sound, he lifted his gaze, and at some point, the two of them had already taken seats across from each other at a tea table prepared inside the theater. She must’ve found his long silence strange.

“No, my lady. I was simply thinking of something else for a moment. Please forgive my discourtesy.”

Instead of blaming him for his rudeness, the woman smiled faintly and lifted her teacup. Matthias felt an inexplicable sense of discord.

Was this woman really the one from the rumors? She didn’t look like someone out of her mind at all.

Among the few pieces of gossip he’d heard recently about Eleanor Brynhill, there’d even been a story about someone seeing her in the middle of the night, covered in blood and laughing.

“They say the capital calls me a mad lady, don’t they?”

He almost choked, barely swallowing the hot tea that caught in his throat.

The woman spoke of people’s judgment of her with a harsh word, far from what nobles typically used, yet she appeared completely unbothered.

“I know about it too. But… I had plenty of time to recuperate in a good place, and I was also told my condition isn’t so severe that I’ll never recover.”

“….”

“I couldn’t attend many social gatherings, but I learned everything necessary from my etiquette teacher. My sister… also taught me.”

Without meeting Matthias’s eyes, her gaze fixed somewhere near the center of the table. Even so, her voice continued, hesitant yet steady.

“To be honest….”

Like someone about to reveal a great secret, she bit her lip before continuing.

“With dancing… honestly, when I turn, I make a mistake once out of every three times, but I swear I’ve never bruised anyone’s foot!”

Matthias stared at her as she confessed her shortcomings as if she were making a heartfelt confession.

Nobles of Lemren all shared the nature of peacocks. They felt they had to show off, inflate themselves, and boast in every way possible. Weaknesses or flaws were things they hid with all their might.

Watching Eleanor so openly admit her own shortcomings stirred a faint interest in him. And along with it, a small curiosity.

“Why are you telling me all of this now?”

Her peach-colored cheeks reddened a little more. After avoiding his gaze the entire time, she finally lifted her head. Even as she looked up at his blue eyes as if they were too bright, she didn’t look away.

“I want to do well.”

“Do well at what?”

“…I mean, I want to be a good wife to you, Your Grace.”

Not the dignified mistress of a distinguished household, but a good wife. When Matthias looked at her steadily, she flushed as if she couldn’t endure his gaze and lowered her eyes again.

“Y-Your Grace is such a perfect person, and also… you’re kind, and you dance well….”

“….”

“I know very well that I’m not perfect. But… I….”

Ha.

He let out a laugh, almost like an exhale breaking from his chest. This was going too far.

At his laugh, clearly filled with ridicule, some of the color faded from the young lady’s cheeks.