Betrothed to My Sister's Ex

I jumped out of the carriage.

The gates of Granado Castle were supposed to be firmly closed as usual. Yet somehow, they were open just enough for one person to slip through. I dashed inside the castle. Holding up the hem of my dress, step after step, I ran up the enormous staircase until I reached the heavy door. This was his room—!

"Lord Cyrus!"

I called out, shouting by the door.

"Lord Cyrus...! I'm sorry. Because I'm weak, I kept burdening you. I ran away from that guilt. Only now do I realize that it was hurting you! I'm sorry! I’m such a weak woman, I truly am sorry...!"

My red hair wildly disheveled, I stood tall and called out his name with all my might.

"But I... I just can’t give up! I don’t want to be stolen away. I don’t want to hand you over to anyone! I will become strong. So—give me all of you!"

Having poured everything out, I collapsed weakly onto the stage.

"...No matter what... by any means. I want you."

Finally, my true feelings spilled out. As if responding to that, the door opened...

The actor playing Lord Cyrus—adorned in heeled boots to add height, wearing a black wig, his skin painted a dark tan—embraced me, Marie.

"Marie! I love you too, by all means!"

At that cue, a magnificent orchestra swelled. The two of us embraced for a moment... then took each other’s hands and began to sing.

“We’ve been passing each other by all this time.”

“Everything was a misunderstanding, yes, a devil’s mischief—"

From somewhere, the attendants appeared and began a dazzling dance, and the stage reached a climax. After finishing the song, curtains closed from either side.

Apparently, that marked the end of the second act. The performance had four acts in total, so this was just halfway through... A long day-long show would now take a break. The audience and actors alike would have time for lunch.

"—Haaaah..."

I sighed deeply and felt drained.

Applause sounded all around. Lord Cyrus, who sat beside me, was applauding. I hurriedly followed suit and clapped. Then I covered my face with both hands again.

I just couldn’t help it—it was so embarrassing.

Noticing this, Lord Cyrus peered at my face.

"What’s wrong, Marie?"

"I'm deeply reflecting on my own actions..."

I answered in a barely audible voice, and Lord Cyrus laughed heartily.

"I don’t think it’s something to feel bad about. Well, if you’ve come to realize things by looking back at the past, that’s good."

"I’m really, truly sorry, once again..."

I couldn’t even lift my face.

Because this stage play had already been heavily edited and refined to look beautiful. The reality was so much messier and more embarrassing. Remembering that time made me unbearably ashamed. Yet Lord Cyrus looked at me happily. Even this chaotic mess seemed like a fond memory to him.

"I’m more concerned about how ‘I’ spoke. I think the actor’s good, but the tone was oddly formal, old-fashioned, or just strange at the end of sentences, wasn’t it?"

"Now that you mention it, yes. But isn’t theatrical acting supposed to be exaggerated like that?"

"Is it? Though somehow, it sounds familiar."

"More importantly, are you okay, Lord Cyrus? I can't bear it that my life story is being made into a script. Even scenes that shouldn’t embarrass me, I can’t keep my head up..."

When I said that, Lord Cyrus laughed loudly.

"I felt the same way at first. But having rumors and glorified portraits made about you, turning your story into public entertainment, that’s a noble’s fate. I’ve gotten used to it."

I see... so that’s how it is.

Wait? So that means there was already a performance about Lord Cyrus that didn’t include me?

I’d like to see that...

As we talked, a calm but remarkably clear voice spoke.

"Are you enjoying the show?"

It was the theater’s manager. His entire body swayed slightly with each step, and he was also an active actor who performed stage combat with a sword. In fact, he was in this play too—the villain, Baron Gregor Chadelan.

Wiping sweat that was melting his makeup, he sought our impressions. His face beamed with confident smiles, expecting only compliments. I responded to meet his expectations.