She asked in disbelief, “No way… really?” and even after receiving confirmation, she could hardly believe it.
Her hair—its original color impossible to discern under grease and dust—was actually silver, as if lightly stained with lilac.
Though filthy, her eyes alone were mysterious and beautiful beyond words.
Her long lashes, lowered like a butterfly’s wings; her lips, plump and soft as flower petals.
Perhaps from her just-finished bath, her damp hair and the rose-tinged bloom on her cheeks lent her an otherworldly allure.
Her slender jawline, the graceful curve of her neck, her translucent pale skin—
Never had Tarkan reacted so strongly to anyone’s appearance.
No beauty at court had ever even caught his gaze.
Yet this woman before him…
‘It’s simply the contrast with what I expected.’
Tarkan hurriedly resolved.
“……?”
Aristine, watching their strange comportment, lost interest and sat in a nearby chair.
She noticed another teacup had been set for her—surely Diona had quietly fetched more tea.
When no one served it, Aristine reached for the teapot.
Startled, Diona clutched it away.
“I-I apologize, Your Highness.”
Diona bowed hastily and poured.
She worried the princess might take offense.
‘I mustn’t cause a fuss before Prince Tarkan.’
Silently she watched. Aristine only shook her head.
Her expression revealed nothing—whether offended or indifferent, it was impossible to tell.
And that inscrutability only heightened the mystery.
How her blank face could seem so compelling was bewildering.
‘I rejoiced thinking the younger princess had come…!’
There was no cause for joy now.
Though Tarkan claimed indifference to beauty, to see a peerless beauty daily could unsettle anyone.
‘He clearly was disturbed earlier!’
Diona’s hand trembled on the teapot.
Tarkan’s rare display of agitation—he had shown it several times since Aristine’s arrival.
‘After only a few minutes together!’
Suppressing her rising thoughts, Diona poured tea and bowed to Aristine.
“I am Diona, at Your Highness’s service.”
“Mm.”
Her voice was clear and pure.
Diona forced a smile, though a dark shadow settled in her heart.
“Now, please take your leave.”
At Tarkan’s command, Diona paused, hand on the tea set.
‘Leave? Alone?’ she thought.
Yet she gave a hollow smile and bowed.
The attendants withdrew, leaving only Aristine and Tarkan in the room.
Silence fell.
Tarkan spoke first.
“Well?”
“You came to speak with me, didn’t you?”
“We’re to be husband and wife soon—must there be business only to share tea together?”
“At least for us, yes.”
‘He’s more prickly than I thought.’
Aristine thought with a smirk.
If she tried to small talk, he might dismiss her before she spoke.
Better to cut to the chase.
“In any case, you accepted this marriage proposal.”
At that, Tarkan scowled.
It was plain he had not consented willingly.
‘I feel the same way. Does anyone think I volunteered to marry you?’
Aristine sipped her tea and murmured.
The fragrance wafted pleasingly up her nose; the warm tea slid smoothly over her tongue into her throat.
She had never tasted such fine tea.
It was delicious—surprisingly so.
…Not that she’d come eager for it, but a treat nonetheless.
‘But let’s keep that secret from Tarkan.’
“Fine. I’m not here to chit-chat.”
Aristine straightened and faced him squarely.
With Diona gone, it was time to speak plainly—no talk of love or children.
Exploiting outside connections was a fallback plan.
Her real confidence lay in her own abilities.
“I’ll be frank.”
Gold-sunlight eyes met violet-dawn eyes in the air.
“Let’s go into business together.”
Chapter 3. The Betrothed with a Business Obsession—Is It Okay to Marry Like This?
“…Business?”
Tarkan’s gaze flickered strangely.
“Oh, no! I’m not obsessed with business.”
Aristine hurriedly waved her hands.
In both her previous life, as her visions showed, and here now, a business obsession was the root of all evil.
“I’m not asking you to lend me money. Not asking for investment. I’m not claiming it’s a guaranteed jackpot! Well, I do have a promising idea… but—”
“……”
“Really, I’m not! So please don’t look at me like that.”
“You don’t plan to use my personal funds for this, do you? We’ll need to adjust that—”
Tarkan muttered, looking away.
His personal funds were surely the allowance she would have as a royal after the wedding.
He intended to manage them before his business-obsessed fiancée squandered them.
Aristine denied it emphatically.
Tarkan’s eyes lingered on her face.
For the first time, he showed some feeling—his cheeks were flushed differently than before.
It was curious. Her lips parted, and uncharacteristically playful words slipped out.
“So, other than asking to borrow or invest money or promising a big hit, you want me to sign my seal here?”
“That’s not it either.”
Aristine grumbled.
Her lips barely moved, yet they grew slightly fuller.
Tarkan took note of that as well.
“We are politically bound by this arranged marriage.”
Aristine interlaced her index fingers.
“So why not make it a win-win? Not personal friendship but business… professionally.”
She chose her words carefully.
She sought a strategic alliance, not love, yet was treated like a business fanatic.
Perhaps direct conversation a few times left her expressions odd.
‘Still, it’s not that bad, is it?’
She had not said anything unintelligible.
“Win-win, huh.”
Bold indeed. No one had dared suggest a win-win with Tarkan.
A savage smile curved his lips.
“If that were possible, it’d be nice.”
He spoke as though certain it never would be.
“I can help you. But you—”
Tarkan looked down at Aristine.
His golden eyes were confident rather than arrogant.
“What can you do for me?”
While others wilted before him, Aristine dared to meet his question head-on.
“And what do you expect of me?”
“Nothing more than quietly breathing.”
“My, how thoughtful—though rather startling.”
Aristine covered her mouth in mock admiration.
“Thank you, but I find it unsettling.”
Despite her words, her face showed no gratitude or embarrassment.
“I’m not saying I didn’t believe you fell for me at first sight. But… our first encounter—”
Aristine had gone a month unwashed.
“Well, tastes differ, and I respect that.”
Her eyes appraised Tarkan up and down.
“Perhaps you concealed your blush by hiding your preference when you told me not to misunderstand you. They say strong denial implies strong affirmation.”
Tarkan felt a splitting headache at her chattering.
Who on earth was this woman?
He had seen countless kinds of people in his life.
Yet never had he met anyone like her.
“I do not mean I’ll be content just by breathing near me.”
“So—”
To Tarkan’s cutting tone, Aristine gave a wry smile and nodded.
“Tarkan.”
A low, soft voice whispered his name. Silver strands fluttered with her movement.
“Is there nothing you desire from me?”
Her uniquely hued eyes turned to him.
‘Come on, speak up. I already know what you want.’
Aristine waited for Tarkan to speak.
But instead he stared blankly, then furrowed his brow and turned away—almost as if he’d seen something appalling.
“Your arms look too weak to even hold a fork—what could you possibly do?”
He muttered.
Indeed, Irugo eyes deemed Silvanus folk delicate.
‘Still, I’m average by Silvanus standards.’
Despite her meager childhood diet, she had grown tall.
“Don’t underestimate me.”
“There’s nothing you can offer me.”
Tarkan dismissed her complaint.
“A one-sided arrangement is not a win-win.”
He pronounced and then asked,
“How is this different from asking me to sign a seal without reading a contract that’s obviously to my loss?”
‘He’s treating me like a scammer.’
Aristine bristled.
“You’re so certain I won’t help you.”
“Because it’s true.”
‘That irks me.’
She tapped her teacup with her finger.
She didn’t care how others thought of her—except with Tarkan’s cooperation, nothing would succeed.
‘Hmph, after he learns my true power…’
Once revealed that she possessed the Emperor’s Eye, both Tarkan and the Emperor would treat her with familial warmth.
The thought angered her—fired her resolve.
‘At least let me see what leverage I hold.’
Though she didn’t choose this marriage, he had agreed; they were political partners now.
This was a matter of respect.
‘Ha! I’ll make this brute kneel and beg to do business with me!’
She vowed as she drained her now-lukewarm tea.
“All right, then—if we sit at the negotiation table, I’ll prove my capabilities first.”
With a clang, she set the teacup on its saucer and sprang to her feet.
“Let’s go.”
“Where to?”
“Before you sign, you should inspect the goods.”
“The princess wishes to meet me?”
Upon the attendant’s report, the King of Irugo raised one eyebrow.
The Silvanus envoy had planned to rest until noon and hold the formal audience that evening.
‘But the princess requests a separate meeting…’
Princess Yenycarina, kneading her father’s shoulder, whispered sweetly.
“Why not see her, Father? I’d love to meet this famed princess.”
The King’s gaze met Yenycarina’s.
He already knew several children, including her, had visited Tarkan’s palace.
He could see her intent—asking for an audience to humiliate the princess further.
‘She’s not the younger sister but the firstborn, the one long imprisoned.’
And she’d arrived looking worse than a street beggar.
Yenycarina’s motives were so transparent he found them almost endearing—so he did not scold her but told his attendants:
“There’s no reason I can’t meet her when I’m not occupied with state affairs.”
“Oh, how delightful!”
Yenycarina flung her arms around his neck in joy.
‘Now I can gleefully humiliate that filthy princess before my father.’
By extension, Tarkan’s reputation would suffer.
Yenycarina brimmed with excited malice at the thought.
Moreover, her own radiance would shine by comparison.
‘Then Father will love me all the more.’
The King had long coveted a Silvanus princess; Yenycarina had lived in tense anticipation.
‘She proved unworthy—so it’s fortunate, yet frustrating.’
Recalling her sleepless nights, the King intended to make the princess pay dearly.
Yenycarina caught an attendant’s eye.
The attendant nodded subtly and departed.
The attendant hurried to inform the Queen.
“So it seems.”
The Queen snapped her fan shut, murmuring.
“A surprise, unofficial meeting—I’d seem overly dramatic if I went myself.”
“If you prefer—”
“My dear Yenycarina can attend. But send these three as well; they have time and it won’t be odd.”
“Understood.”
The attendant bowed and left the Queen’s quarters.
Soon after, by the Queen’s command, the princesses and princes headed to the King’s palace.
“I can’t wait to see Father’s reaction.”
“Yes—what will he think when he sees that ragged princess?”
“Really? After all, she’s direct imperial bloodline…”
“She looks more like a filthy rat.”
They giggled and mocked Aristine.
“I suppose she’s been washed. Tarkan must have had her cleaned up to present her to the King.”
“Hmph, even so—no amount of polish changes the base material.”
“Indeed. Her maids outshine her. They look far better than their own princess.”
“I heard a Silvanus princess is a beauty—but that was the younger sister, not the firstborn. Marten, you met the younger sister, didn’t you?”
“She was stunning—blonde, slender, classic Silvanus. Apparently sisters don’t always resemble.”
“Half-blood, no wonder.”
“Poor Tarkan. He expected the fair, beloved younger sister—but was saddled with that… lump.”
“I’ve heard the firstborn was imprisoned for madness.”
“Oh my—so she’s mentally ill?”
The princes and princesses gaped with glee.
They had resented the news of Tarkan’s marriage to Silvanus blood.
“Imagine Tarkan’s plight. He must be desperate to ask Father for an audience, given this defective bride.”
“Yenycarina will be by Father’s side—he’ll never suspect.”
“Nor that we’d be here.”
“Today will be quite entertaining.”
As they bantered, they reached the tearoom’s entrance.
Grinning maliciously, they watched the door swing open.
There stood the ever-intimidating figure of Tarkan—and beside him, the gleaming silver hair.
‘Gleaming…?’