# 1
“Aachen Ricoeur, Grand Duke of Belzeit and Princess Helene of Bethstein.”
The modest vow ceremony was limited to the bride, groom, and the high priest.
“Do you pledge to Freya to always respect and love each other no matter the circumstances?”
The High Priest asked the two in a serious voice.
“I will always respect and love her.”
Hair like the starry night sky and eyes deep blue like the sea.
The man, who looked like he had been carefully carved by an artist, replied with a smile.
Aachen Requier Belzeit.
He was the former Crown Prince of the Rikwir Empire and Commander of the North, Grand Duke of Belzeit.
“...forever.”
Helen muttered in a low voice that the bride could barely hear, and she was surprised.
“It's just a ceremonial vow... Why would he add something like that?”
He was still a mysterious man.
“Princess Helen?”
“Oh… I swear.”
Helen answered hurriedly, brought out of her distraction by the High Priest's call.
“May Freya’s blessings be upon you, now that you are husband and wife.”
When the high priest rang the bell three times and made the sign of the cross, Aachen bowed slightly to Helen.
“We will leave for the north as soon as the wedding ceremony here in Pitstein is over.”
"Good."
“Later, we will hold a lavish patriotic wedding. A party worthy of my noble bride.”
Aachen extended his hand with a slight smile.
Helen smiled back and placed her hand on his.
As Aachen leaned down, his lips gently touched the back of her hand.
An explosion sounded!
Suddenly, with a loud sound, the tightly closed doors of the temple opened.
Helen turned around in horror.
“Revan?”
It was a familiar face.
Her ex-husband and father of her beloved daughter, Shevlyn.
Marquis Revan Rata.
“…Helen.”
Revan stared at Helen, who had just taken the oath of marriage with Aachen, in shock.
“Helen,”
“How ironic,” he said.
His voice calls to her like in the warm old days.
Helen took a deep breath.
She felt pain in her chest.
Was it because of her deep breathing?
Or was it because of nostalgia for the past that weighed heavy on her heart?
'Don't give in to empty emotion. Have you forgotten what Shivalin suffered because of Revan?'
Helen gathered her shaky strength.
Aachen and the High Priest must have been surprised by Revan's sudden appearance.
Who told Revan?
How did Revan find this secret place?
Fortunately, there were no guests, just a modest party, so there were no prying eyes.
“The Grand Duke of Belzeit...”
Even though he was the groom whose wedding was interrupted, Aachen did not seem surprised or upset.
‘Okay.’
An ex-husband attends his ex-wife's wedding.
“Could there be a funnier situation?” Helen stifled a sarcasm and furrowed her eyebrows.
“Marquis Rata.”
“…Helen.”
“What's this noise?”
At her sharp rebuke, Revan's eyes twitched.
“Not only did you come uninvited, but you also dared to call a princess by name and disrespect her?”
“Hale, you were wrong.” Revan took a step closer, pleading as if he was about to kneel.
"Can't we start over? This was all my fault."
“……”
Then Aachen, who was watching Revan indifferently, whispered.
“So, this is the uninvited guest they mentioned.”
Revan's gaze moved to Aachen when he heard the cold voice.
“Even if it is a modest ceremony, it is still a union between two nations, and such insolence...”
“……”
“I could have dismissed it as ignorance.”
Aachen's eyes, which had been gentle, turned sharp.
He kissed Helen's hand again deliberately and said:
“But I cannot bear to disrespect my bride.”
Then he pulled her waist towards him.
“...!”
Helen jolted at the sudden closeness and the strong man's body.
“Revan Rata, right?”
“……”
“If you value your life, you had better behave yourself.”
With a stern warning, Revan frowned.