“Enough, Ivan. I’m the one going for the first time, not you.”
The carriage, which had never offered a smooth ride to begin with, was rattling more than usual today. Every time Ivan, unable to conceal his nerves, twisted and fidgeted restlessly, the whole carriage lurched. At this rate, they’d ruin their clothes from motion sickness before they even reached the royal palace — so Eugene scrunched up his face and gave Ivan a sharp word.
“You simply don’t remember — it’s not your first time either. And that’s exactly why I’m more nervous! Me, looking like this… all alone… without you.”
“And where exactly has my brother gone — the one who told me not to worry and acted like he had everything under control? I suppose there truly was some great masculine power stored in that beard.”
Ivan rubbed his smooth chin over and over and wailed. As though stroking it would somehow bring back what was already gone — and yet he persisted with the habit. Eugene leaned back crookedly in his seat, crossed his arms, and shook his head at Ivan.
“Don’t mock me! Eugene, you actually got your memory back, didn’t you? You’re perfectly fine, aren’t you?”
“At this rate, I’d say finding a wealthy fiancée is a lost cause.”
“This is no time to be smug. Eugene. You do remember Lady Chelsea’s face clearly, right?”
“Yes. As long as she looks like her portrait, there’s no problem.”
Eugene half-listened, half-ignored him, turning his gaze out the carriage window. The sun hadn’t set yet, but the boulevard was lined with an endless procession of carriages. Eugene wasn’t without his own worries, but he was making a deliberate effort not to dwell on things that hadn’t happened yet.
“Stay by my side the entire time.”
“Ivan, if I’m glued to your side, when am I supposed to meet Lady Chelsea? When am I supposed to exchange words about a potential match?”
“No arguments. Do as your brother says. Tonight is nothing more than a chance to show ourselves off — ‘so this is what’s on the menu.’ The real marriage war begins tomorrow!”
Eugene already knew all of this perfectly well from their lessons, but he pushed back with his usual sideways manner. Something he’d learned through his etiquette sessions with Ivan — Ivan actually enjoyed it when Eugene sniped at him. It sounded strange, perhaps, but not in any perverse way.
Whenever Eugene acted like this — crooked and contrary — it reminded Ivan of the Eugene before his memory loss, and something about the familiarity seemed to put him at ease. Case in point: even now, Ivan had stopped his anxious writhing and was already showering Eugene with instructions instead.
Whether in the modern world or this medieval fantasy of a world, traffic was an unavoidable problem. As the line of carriages inched forward one by one, Eugene went over everything he needed to be mindful of. The foremost concern was Lady Chelsea.
Kyle’s former fiancée — the one he had run out on. The grief of betrayal and the wound to her pride were not things that could be erased by anything. This was unambiguously Kyle’s fault, and whatever she might say, there was nothing to argue against. But the severity of it was something else entirely.
When the incident had first occurred, the Primrose family had offered an apology alongside a proposal — that since the second son Ivan would be inheriting the family in the elder son’s place, the engagement need not be dissolved, and Ivan could fulfill it instead.
In truth, given that the engagement had never been founded on sentiment, it was the most ideal response possible. Kyle would be struck from the family register, and Ivan would become the legitimate heir — nothing would change in terms of the conditions.
Moreover, at the time, Eugene had been hovering between life and death, making the Primrose family effectively the same as a household with Ivan as the sole son. On top of that, Kyle’s offense had placed the Chelsea family in a position of advantage — strictly speaking, viewed in terms of conditions alone, it was actually a better deal for them.
It had not been an unreasonable offer — but the Chelsea family refused it outright. The rage of Lady Chelsea herself, as the directly involved party, had been nothing short of tremendous. It was understandable, yes — but looking at it one way, it was almost hard to believe they had truly been an emotionless arrangement, given the ferocity with which she ground her teeth.
On a passing hunch, Eugene had tentatively asked whether Kyle and Lady Chelsea might have genuinely been in love, or at least harbored warm feelings for each other — but Ivan shook his head firmly.
Lady Chelsea had apparently always made it clear she found the Primroses distasteful. Before the engagement, both Kyle and Ivan had been acquainted with the young miss of the Chelsea family to some degree. The two families had been quietly competing with each other through financial clout within Hyphaelion, so it was hardly possible not to know of one another. They were, quite plainly, an unwelcome match to each other — but they had joined hands purely for mutual gain, a rival family joining with a rival family.
The Primrose lands were prosperous. Before Kyle’s scandal, if one were to name the five wealthiest families in Hyphaelion, the first would be Highwinter — and the second would be Primrose. Chelsea came third.
The Primrose estate held broadly fertile land, but the majority of their territory was composed of mountain ranges. The food produced from their narrow farmland barely covered self-sufficiency — and yet the reason Primrose had accumulated wealth second only to Highwinter was their mines.
The Primrose family held three gold mines in total, and there had been a time when every gold coin in Hyphaelion had been minted from gold that came out of Primrose mines. Because of this, the kingdom’s gold coins bore a small engraved primrose flower.
However, one of the three mines had been exhausted and closed, and the remaining two were producing less and less — to the point where they were deliberately controlling supply. The veins had been depleted.
Still, the Primroses retained ownership of the gold-bearing mountain ranges. They simply needed time, technology, and money to find new veins. Multiple surveys and excavations had been attempted, but they had all come up empty — and in the course of all this, Count Primrose and Kyle had sought to sell Primrose gold at a higher price while also pursuing the development of the New World. The family they had chosen for that was Chelsea.
Landlocked and far removed from any possibility of overseas trade, the Primroses had planned to join forces with Chelsea — who owned trading ports and merchant vessels — to develop gold mines in the New World, and to trade with foreign nations where gold was scarcer than in their own kingdom.
Without question, if the two families were united through marriage, both would see their wealth grow. But Kyle had overturned all of that for love. The dramatic alliance between two wealth-rivaling families shattered — and in its place, a rivalry even fiercer than before had taken root. That was Ivan’s account of it, and the background Eugene had come to understand.
There was, however, one part that didn’t quite add up to him. Even accounting for all of that, the two families joining hands still held clear advantages on both sides. Eugene suspected there was a more complicated story buried beneath the surface — something he had yet to learn.
Perhaps something had happened that made hatred outweigh benefit. Or perhaps the Chelsea family had found another source of wealth greater than what the Primroses could offer. Or perhaps both were true simultaneously — and they intended to use this opportunity to tear the Primroses down in the process.
Ivan believed that once the Social Season began and new developments arose day by day, Lady Chelsea would quiet down. But in Eugene’s view, it was quite the opposite. The longer time passed, the stronger his suspicion grew that Lady Chelsea would only become more vocal. He didn’t know every detail of the family’s affairs — he was still busy making sense of being Eugene Primrose — but that was the instinct that came to him.
As time went on, perhaps especially as Eugene and Ivan came to be spoken of more and more in society, Lady Chelsea would voice her grief and speak of the Primrose family’s unconscionable breach of engagement. The Chelsea family itself was hardly the sort to be shaken by a broken engagement story — but existing as the perfect victim served her well for the sake of a new match, too. Far from dying down quietly, she would keep trailing after the Primrose brothers.
Ivan told Eugene to stay by his side and not even make eye contact with Lady Chelsea — but Eugene didn’t think avoiding her would be possible. If anything, he suspected she would be the one to deliberately set the stage and arrange the encounter.
Ivan called Eugene’s view needlessly pessimistic and groundless speculation. Eugene, too, hoped sincerely that his instincts were off. Given they were the instincts of someone who’d already been conned, perhaps they weren’t worth worrying about.
Lost in those thoughts, the entrance to the hunting grounds opened before them. The Primrose townhouse employed a fair number of servants, but they were clearly no match for the royal household. The moment each carriage arrived, servants came rushing out to receive the nobles. The invitation card inspection was swift and seamless, and Eugene’s cane and hat were already in a servant’s hands before he’d even had a chance to think about them.
And just like that, without even a moment to compose himself or check his appearance, he was thrust into the very middle of the hunt.
Passing through the west wing’s main entrance, a grand hall lined with marble columns came into view. He had thought they’d arrived fairly early — but the grand hall was already filled with people. So as not to look like some wide-eyed newcomer, Eugene kept his back straight and his gaze fixed ahead — but his eyes kept drifting upward.
As if to make the Primrose residence look quaint by comparison, an elaborate ceiling fresco spread across the entire grand hall in breathtaking grandeur, and every surface gleamed with gold. Even having braced himself, he was struck by it all for just a moment.
He pressed his lips firmly shut against the urge to let them fall open, and made a deliberately unhurried sweep of the room — marble, gold, and sweeping murals were all his eyes could find. The people were almost an afterthought. In truth, there were no faces that stood out to him — they all blurred together, everyone draped in shimmering silk, one indistinguishable from the next.
More than the crowd of guests, it was the chandeliers that caught his eye. So enormous and resplendent were they that it suddenly struck him, with fresh clarity, that he had truly come to a place worthy of being called a royal palace. Eugene straightened his posture and swallowed quietly. Ivan, who had been standing beside him, gripped Eugene’s arm and pulled.
“Over there first.”
At the low murmur, Eugene gave a slight nod in lieu of a reply and confirmed the direction Ivan had turned toward. They were club members Ivan was close with — men of roughly equal standing, ones Ivan had no issue greeting first. The moment Eugene took a step toward them, he felt the weight of gazes converging on both him and Ivan.
Every man in the ballroom had sideburns and a beard, groomed and oiled into order. Just as Ivan had predicted, it was the men who stirred first.
The one Ivan was inwardly and desperately searching for right now was surely not a future bride, but Lucian Highwinter. Please, let Lucian appear soon — clean-shaven and immaculate. Only then would the strange stares following the Primrose brothers shift from mockery and shock into something like understanding.
The sharp, prickling stares on his skin were starting to get to Ivan — and so this time, it was Eugene who took his arm and stepped forward ahead of him. Utterly composed. Regal. Eugene lifted his chin just slightly, and he gleamed.
The murmuring that had risen at the sight of their unfamiliar, clean-shaven appearance quieted — and in its place, a different sound broke through, a breath of collective wonder.
It was impossible not to hear. Men and women alike, young and old, whispered about Eugene’s identity. The youngest son of the Primrose family. Was he always this beautiful? I heard he was too ill to even move about. Voices upon voices drifted past Eugene’s ears.
If this wasn’t the very definition of commanding attention, what was? The looks weren’t the product of effort — Eugene Primrose had simply been born that way — but the attitude and air Eugene carried now had at least a spoonful of Park Yujin’s hard work stirred into it.
Unlike Ivan, who seemed to shrink the more eyes fell on him, Eugene’s chin and shoulders only rose higher. With the gazes so thoroughly pulled toward Eugene, the men were a beat late in noticing Ivan’s bare jaw. Ivan’s friends greeted him with bewildered expressions.
“Ivan, what on earth is this state you’re in?”
“You’ll find out soon enough. Never mind that — has the Duke of Highwinter not yet arrived?”
“If he’d arrived, it certainly wouldn’t be this quiet in here. He’ll probably show his face fashionably late.”
“Oh, please. God above. Come quickly and deliver me from this!”
One of the group gave Ivan a look as though he’d seen something he hadn’t bargained for and asked the question — but Ivan, through it all, said only what he had to say. Wasn’t he soon to become Lord Ivan, after all? He could afford to let a little thing like this roll right off him.
Then, one by one, the others who’d been slow on the uptake began chiming in.
“Haven’t seen your face around lately — I suppose this must be why. What in the world is this look. Couldn’t find a match, so you’ve decided to become a woman yourself, have you?”
“Ah — this is my younger brother, Eugene.”
“So this is the one I’ve only ever heard about. Far more impressive in person than I expected. Ivan, the two of you are standing side by side and yet I can hardly believe you’re brothers.”
There was an exchange of subtle mockery and astonishment — but Ivan paid none of it any mind. It was quite a different picture from how he’d been whining endlessly about his missing beard. Looking at Ivan now, back straight, as though he’d never been rattled at all, Eugene let out a quiet, wry smile. And naturally, the men’s eyes all drifted toward Eugene.
