What constitutes the ‘main point’ of a wedding?
Each person likely holds a different vision: a magnificent wedding hall, delectable cuisine…
or perhaps a sweet honeymoon, thoughtful wedding gifts, the blessings of loved ones.
The elements that comprise a wedding are, after all, wonderfully diverse.
And yet, at this very moment, roughly four days after agreeing to marry her superior officer, Chloe was suffering through a ‘main point’ of the wedding she had not even ‘remotely’ imagined.
“Ah, agh…’ W-wait a moment,” she choked out.
“I’m having a really hard t—”
She had been twisting her waist this way and that for a while, a prisoner of the tight, unfamiliar sensation that compressed her entirely.
A groaning sound, almost a sob, leaked out of its own accord.
Regardless, her marriage partner remained ruthless.
“No time.
Answer quickly,” he commanded curtly.
“Right now, I…
Ahh, ugh.”
“Hold your breath.”
Chloe took a deep breath, but her partner scoffed, pressing firmly just below her chest, on her solar plexus.
In vain, the breath she had painstakingly drawn in burst out again.
Watching Chloe struggle, Curtis whispered a sarcastic remark, as if she were truly pathetic.
“You have to exhale, Officer Amboise.
What are you doing inhaling?
It’s not as if this is your first time.”
Eventually, Chloe exploded.
“Ah!
This is the first time in my life I’ve worn a dress like this!” she exclaimed, her voice raw with frustration.
Indeed.
Chloe Amboise was currently in the midst of the wedding’s true ‘main point’ and conclusion: she was being fitted for a wedding dress.
“I can’t even breathe!
It’s too small!” Chloe shrieked.
“Has everyone been getting married wearing clothes like this?”
At Chloe’s scream, the seamstress clinging to her side laughed cheerfully.
“Of course,” she chirped.
“It’s the beginning and the end of the wedding, its very highlight!”
The small reception room in Grand Duke Berk’s detached house was awash in white silk and lace, scattered everywhere.
Embroidery thread samples lay spread out in dizzying numbers.
Seamstresses and maids bustled between them all.
It was a scene commonly found in the dressing rooms of noble ladies on the cusp of marriage.
However, certain points diverged from the usual tableau: specifically, the fact that Chloe was already wearing a completed dress.
A gown of pure white.
If the gossips who held sway in Ivanes were to see it, they would immediately deduce the original owner simply by the dress’s color.
Curtis’s mother, Queen Mildred.
What Chloe was wearing was the very same pristine white dress Queen Mildred had worn at her wedding to the late King.
Queen Mildred’s appearance in that dress had been so breathtakingly beautiful that every newspaper featuring illustrations of the wedding had sold out.
It went without saying that it had single-handedly transformed Ivanes’ wedding culture, where red dresses were traditionally worn.
The wedding dress worn by her future husband’s mother.
It was ‘the’ dress, envied by every woman in Ivanes.
In fact, for the wedding of someone as significant as Grand Duke Berk, they could have commissioned an infinitely expensive gown.
However, Curtis Sean Berk had specifically retrieved that very dress, which had been resting in Queen Mildred’s summer villa.
He then briefly summarized his reasons for choosing it.
“First,” Curtis had stated, “there is no time.”
“Yes,” Chloe had agreed.
“And it makes it look like I love the Warrant Officer.”
At first listen, it sounded quite symbolic and romantic. This chapter was taken from g.com without permission.
Marrying in his late mother’s dress, and even her ring…
it would certainly appear that way.
Chloe had agreed with that point.
There was, however, one significant problem: Queen Mildred had been an exceptionally frail and petite woman.
“Ah, did you bring a child’s dress by mistake?!” Chloe cried out.
“I told you I can’t breathe!”
And Chloe, by contrast, was a tall, healthy-looking, ideal soldier of the new era.
The seamstress, who had been groaning while tightening Chloe’s dress just moments before, apologized reflexively.
“I apologize, Lady Amboise!”
The young seamstress’s name was Julia.
Her mother, having followed Queen Mildred from her home country, had brought Julia to work at the Grand Duke’s estate since childhood.
She was also slated to be the maid who would remain by Chloe’s side in the future, as only a handful of servants at the Grand Duke’s residence were considered capable of properly serving her.
Chloe reflexively waved a dismissive hand.
“It’s fine.
It’s not something for you to apologize for,” she assured Julia.
“I don’t think it’s something for ‘me’ to apologize for either,” Curtis countered, his voice smooth.
The man standing right in front of her was shameless beyond measure.
He lifted a single eyebrow and spoke casually.
“How about starving until the wedding, Sir?” he suggested.
“If you want to annul the engagement,” Chloe shot back, “say one more word.”
Julia glanced around, her eyes wide with bewilderment at the sharp exchange between the two people soon to be married.
Naturally, even among the servants of the Grand Duke’s residence, this marriage was widely understood to be based on love.
Even trustworthy maids could not be privy to the internal circumstances.
‘But what is this confrontation between Lady Amboise and His Highness?’ Julia wondered.
Access to the detached house where the Grand Duke’s fiancée resided had been strictly prohibited to servants for three days.
It was only this morning that the seamstresses and maids, including Julia, had been permitted entry under the pretext of preparing for the wedding.
It was true that the maids’ hearts were a blend of curiosity and admiration.
After all, she was the fiancée of ‘the’ Grand Duke Berk.
Any servant working at the Berk Grand Duchy would naturally wonder, at least once, what kind of woman he would marry.
Their curiosities were truly diverse.
Newcomers predominantly wondered, ‘What kind of woman would such a handsome and perfect man marry?’ or ‘She must be a truly beautiful and noble lady, right?’
Conversely, among servants with long careers at the mansion, opinions diverged into quite a few branches, often depending on their loyalty.
‘He’d probably only marry if the Grand Duchess was bald,’ one might speculate.
‘If he marries for love, surely the Grand Duchess’s hair won’t bother him,’ another might ponder.
‘Forget it.
Since it’s Grand Duke Berk, his partner must be a precious person, but what woman would endure that temper?’
‘Looking at that face, perhaps she could push through, even with hair?’
And Lady Amboise, whom the servants encountered in the detached house, was a personage who shattered all those expectations and curiosities.
For the record, the title ‘Lady Amboise’ had been decided by Grand Duke Berk himself.
As they weren’t yet married, she wasn’t the Grand Duchess.
But lacking a high rank or title, she couldn’t be called Lady Amboise either.
“Since you are my fiancée and a soldier, I will have the servants call you Lady.
And I will do the same,” Curtis had decreed.
“Eh.
You can’t attach the title ‘Lady’ to a Warrant Officer,” Chloe had protested.
“Between being called ‘Madam’ by me in advance, or being called ‘Lady’…” he had offered, presenting a mock choice.
“Hahaha!
I’ve wanted to become a knight since I was a child!” she had declared, delightedly accepting.
These backstories, however, remained a secret to the servants.
Regardless, she was quite different from what the servants had envisioned.
Her status was one thing, but her appearance was sturdy rather than frail.
Well, everyone had different tastes, the servants rationalized.
‘I suppose that is Grand Duke Berk’s type.’
Perhaps because she had trained her body since childhood, her sturdy shoulders perfectly complemented her tall height, giving her a strapping appearance.
Her muscles, woven without an ounce of fat, and her long, straight legs were also remarkable features.
They said an all-female troupe played exclusively male roles in the pleasure city of ‘Godefroy’, but it seemed even the actors there would have to concede to Lady Amboise.
So, the story that Grand Duke Berk had fallen for her wasn’t entirely unconvincing.
However, what truly baffled them was something else.
For a couple supposedly marrying under the King’s persecution after three months of secret dating…
“Have you never even had a dress fitted?” Curtis asked, incredulous.
“I told you back then!” Chloe snapped.
“An evening dress?
I don’t have one!
Would I have had custom-made clothes?”
“Lady Amboise has lived a truly overwhelmingly frugal life,” Curtis observed dryly.
“What is this?
Are you trying to hurt my feelings?” she demanded.
The atmosphere was quite combative.
Unable to watch any longer, Julia, the seamstress standing next to her, intervened carefully, a look of pity on her face.
“Um, then has Lady Amboise never worn custom-made clothes, not even once?” Julia asked gently.
At those words, Chloe, who had been snapping at Grand Duke Berk with fire in her eyes, softened her demeanor and answered awkwardly.
“Embarrassingly,” she admitted, “I’ve only worn military uniforms since I enlisted at eighteen.”
“Even a dog sheds its fur twice a year,” Curtis drawled, his tone laced with sarcasm.
At the familiar sarcasm, Chloe’s eyes narrowed into angry slits once more.
But Julia indignantly scolded the Grand Duke.
“Oh my, Grand Duke!”
“You really are too much,” Julia chastised.
“Tormenting Lady Amboise while she’s busy mending the dress!”
Curtis merely scoffed.
“We have to finish the wedding in a week,” he stated.
“You should be able to memorize the list of nobles not just while mending clothes, but while dancing.”
Indeed.
In this rather combative atmosphere, the list of nobles the Grand Duke held in his hand also played a part.
Something about needing to memorize the major noble list and names to become a Grand Duchess, or so he claimed.
That was the very reason the Grand Duke was standing firm in the dressing room, a space usually reserved exclusively for women.
It went without saying that all the seamstresses, including Julia, were flustered.
‘No matter if they’re engaged, is it really okay to just barge into the dressing room…?’ they wondered silently.
However, unexpectedly, the Grand Duke’s fiancée sighed once and simply accepted it.
“I’m used to it.
I’m fine, Julia,” Chloe said, a weary resignation in her voice.
‘They said they fell in love while working overtime!’ the seamstresses thought, a wave of pity washing over them.
The seamstresses felt terribly sorry for Lady Amboise, who seemed to be overworked.
A new bride, after all, should be cherished and uplifted by her groom!
Fortunately, amidst the misfortune, the Grand Duke ‘did’ consider the modesty of his prospective Grand Duchess, who was clad only in her undergarments.
They were conversing with a velvet partition wall set up between them.
But the words exchanged across the partition were far from anything romantic.
Indeed, the minds of the attendants were becoming dizzy from the torrent of family names and personal details of nobles that the Grand Duke recited without taking a breath.
Honestly, it was simply too much.
A groom urging his bride to answer while she struggled for breath, the dress impossibly tight.
Julia, the seamstress who had often been adored by the late Queen in her childhood, clenched her fists tight.
She believed she was the only one here who could dare to make something resembling a protest to Grand Duke Berk, and that now was the opportune moment to step up for the poor Grand Duchess.