This Marriage Will Surely Succeed

Carmen eventually stood up, albeit half-forced.

She got out of the carriage on her own, refusing Amaia’s help.

Unfazed, Amaia withdrew her hand and began detaching the horses from the carriage.

Due to the bandits attacking the wheels first to halt their progress, the carriage was no longer usable.

At least the horses were unscathed, which was a small relief.

They must have avoided harming them, likely intending to sell such valuable animals.

“Come on up.”

Amaia, already mounted on one of the horses, looked down at Carmen.

Carmen responded in a voice tinged with disbelief, “You want me to ride with you?”

“...No.”

In fact, she’d never even ridden one on flat ground.

With no other option, Carmen allowed herself to be guided by Amaia, settling herself behind her.

“And lower your tone. If you get into the habit of speaking formally, you’ll make mistakes even once we reach the Ida estate.”

“But... I was never a noble.”

“Act as if you’ve been one all along, even in front of me.”

Amaia advised her calmly, adding that one day it would start to feel real.

Sadly, for Carmen, that day never seemed to arrive.

Even after they safely reached the Ida estate, held a modest ceremony, and she took her place as the lady of the manor, Carmen’s heart was constantly restless.

Out of habit, she hid her hands, hardened from years of labor, and her troubled past replayed in her mind every day.

She believed her past was merely buried for now, still lurking somewhere, waiting to resurface and end this charade.

Though her worries were baseless, they only grew more intricate, branching in all directions.

She held a secret that would surely provoke her husband’s anger if he found out, making it hard for her to develop any affection toward him.

Their marriage was distant, and her relationship with Dieter was even colder.

Though Amaia knew her true identity, she couldn’t bring herself to fully trust her, as her life essentially depended on her goodwill.

Even with Amaia’s assurance of safety, Carmen believed that her loyalty was tied to orders from higher up, which could change at any time.

Her doubts stemmed from one simple fact: she hardly knew Amaia at all.

‘I still don’t know who she’s working for.’

As someone living far from home with no anchor, it was almost inevitable that she would be drawn to someone in a similar situation.

What started as a lighthearted connection quickly deepened.

When she first met Peter, a new recruit struggling under intense hazing from his seniors, he had just joined the Order of Knights.

They crossed paths frequently, seeking solitude in a secluded spot away from prying eyes.

Initially, Peter would give way to her, but after several encounters, they began spending time together.

First came small talk, then glances exchanged, fingers entwining, until finally, they shared breaths.

Their time together was blissful, yet each return to reality brought waves of regret and loneliness.

Carmen was anxious, knowing she now had yet another secret to conceal.

After all, secrets were always destined to be exposed.

As Carmen feared, her clandestine meetings with Peter were soon discovered by others.

Naturally, the person who spent the most time with Carmen was Amaia.

One day, unable to resist her impulses, Carmen found herself entwined with Peter somewhere in the garden, only to come face-to-face with Amaia, who happened to pass by at that very moment.

Or perhaps, Amaia had sensed something amiss from the start and had intentionally followed Carmen.

Peter and Carmen hastily adjusted their clothing, but with their lower bodies still partially exposed, there was no denying the relationship.

It was Amaia who took control of the situation as the two of them stood there, flustered and fumbling.

After sending Peter back to the Order of Knights, Amaia approached Carmen and spoke with a calm but cold tone.

“End it.”

“...I can’t.”

“Do you really think you have a choice in this matter?”

Her gaze was icy as she looked down at Carmen.

Carmen stifled a bitter laugh.

She knew she was in the wrong and that Amaia’s demand was reasonable, but an inexplicable rebelliousness flared within her.

Peter had been the first thing she’d chosen for herself, independent of others’ influence.

When Carmen did not immediately agree, Amaia’s eyebrow twitched in irritation.

“If you continue to resist, I’ll have no choice but to report this to Count Setabara.”

“And what can he do to me when my parents are long gone?”

Carmen retorted defiantly, unwilling to back down.

Looking back, she hadn’t realized it then, but she’d been cornered emotionally at the time.

Since leaving for a foreign land, she hadn’t seen her family even once, as Count Setabara had effectively barred her from returning, fearing she might leak information.

She only learned of her parents’ passing long after they were gone.

The pain of not being able to see them in their final moments weighed heavily on her.

It was likely this unresolved grief that drove her to cling to her fleeting romance with Peter.

Amaia let out a long sigh as he met Carmen’s defiant gaze.

Finally, with a softer tone as if trying to calm her, she concluded, “You need time to collect your thoughts.”

Naturally, it was Carmen, not Amaia, who needed time to reconsider.

After that day, Amaia refrained from mentioning Peter around Carmen, but it was merely a grace period to give her time to end things on her own terms.

While Amaia returned to her usual demeanor as if nothing had happened, Carmen’s anxiety only grew deeper with each passing day.

Though she pretended that she had no fear of Count Setabara in front of Amaia, Carmen’s true feelings were far different.

Count Setabara had countless ways to curb her defiance, and Carmen knew it all too well.

Everything Carmen had was only possible because of her connection to Count Setabara.

Even if Count Setabara decided to eliminate her without a trace, Carmen had no way to stop him.

“Maybe I should just run away.”

Eventually, Carmen began to entertain the idea of fleeing from both Count Setabara and Viscount Ida.

Once, she had dreamed of living as a noble, journeying to a foreign land to chase that life, but now freedom felt far more valuable.

The belief that wearing fine clothes and eating delicious food would bring happiness had been an illusion.

Living as a stand-in for a lady who didn’t truly exist, Carmen always felt as if she were stealing someone else’s clothes, wearing a life that didn’t fit her.

It was time, she thought, to reclaim her own life.

The day of her escape was a night when Viscount Ida happened to be away on a business trip.

Carmen changed into the clothes she’d prepared, grabbed a few simple pieces of jewelry, and left her bedroom.

She passed a few people, but the night was dark enough, with only a sliver of a crescent moon, to conceal her face.

Everyone walked past the bowed figure of a maid without a second glance.

Following the path she had planned, Carmen slipped out of the estate, feeling a thrill of excitement.

Her lover waited outside the manor with a horse, ready for their escape.

She was so close to freedom now.

Or so she thought.

“It’s a cold night. Perhaps you should end your little stroll here.”

Meeting Amaia at the back door, Carmen felt a chill spread through her body as though all the blood had drained out.

She stumbled back, but Amaia only closed the distance, stepping right in front of her and scooping her over her shoulder.

Blocked at the very threshold of her escape, Carmen struggled with all her might.

She screamed, begged her to let her go, pleading over and over, but Amaia paid no heed.

Fueled by an inexplicable anger, she began kicking her furiously.

Amaia, skilled enough to fend off a dozen attackers at once, would have had no trouble restraining her—if she had wanted to use force.

But she didn’t lay a hand on her, and eventually, they both lost their balance and tumbled to the ground.

Yet even in the fall, Amaia skillfully managed to grab her ankle as she tried to dash toward the back gate.

Driven to her limit, Carmen finally screamed, “How am I your superior? Why do you make me pretend to be a lady when all I am is a slave who has to follow your every command?!”

Dirt from her kicks sprayed across Amaia’s face.

She gave her a brief, sharp look, as though gazing at a troublesome nuisance.

Through gritted teeth, she spat out her words.

“I’ll help you.”

“...What?”

“I said I’ll help you.”

And from that moment, Carmen’s life plans were rewritten once again.

--- End Of The Chapter ----

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