Episode 10

Let’s draft a contract.”

“…Ah.”

“You don’t want to?”

“If not, {I shall return the diamond right now}.”

Elouise raised her chin with regal defiance as she spoke.

The posture was queenly. Marcus was impressed without meaning to be. And her final phrase—“I shall return the diamond”—was spoken in Toulous, the formal language used among high nobility at capital banquets. Marcus usually despised hearing it, as it often proved to be the method nobles utilized to belittle him, the miner’s son. The fact that he understood it only made it worse.

But why did it feel different now? Her pronunciation was elegant, her lips sensual. Was such the natural resonance of the Toulous language?

Elouise had only one reason for using Toulous. She wished to maintain dignity in the nobility’s manner, even in such an absurd situation. But the effect it had on Marcus was completely unexpected.

Marcus glanced at Logan, who seemed similarly surprised. With a chuckle, he gestured for Logan to bring writing materials. The capable secretary returned with a pen, ink, paper, and even Marcus’s personal seal and wax.

“Very well, Lady. Let’s write up a contract for this fake marriage.”

“Great.”

“May I have your full name again?”

“Elouise Starwood.”

“I am Marcus Hanger. I’ll be the proposer and you, the contractee.”

“Sounds good.”

Logan scribbled their names in flowing script. The two quickly negotiated the terms.

“First, Sir Marcus Hanger, how long do you intend to maintain this fake marriage?”

“Three months?”

“…That short?”

Logan cleared his throat.

“Our young master has never been in a relationship lasting longer than three months.”

“…Even though you say you’re madly in love with the duchess…”

“I love her, but that doesn’t mean I can handle dating her.”

Marcus chuckled, spinning his glass. Elouise immediately grasped the implication.

Oh my god. This damned lunatic was a 'runaway'.

In Maine, the girls she tutored often referred to men who ran away from commitment as 'runaways'. They’d boldly propose, then flee the moment the relationship deepened. They were common enough to have a slang term.

Logan confirmed her suspicion.

“His longest relationship lasted two months and ten days.”

“I see. But shouldn’t we have a wedding at least?”

Marcus narrowed his eyes, gauging her intent.

“A wedding?”

“Yes. You weren’t planning to say you were married without a ceremony, were you?”

“Hmm…”

Marcus hesitated, then revealed his initial plan.

“I was thinking of saying we made a childhood vow during a moment of innocent affection…”

Elouise frowned.

Marcus worried he’d offended her—until she said something completely unexpected.

“The duchess would never buy that.”

“…You think so?”

“I would think so. If I were her, I wouldn’t believe a word of it. After being so publicly rejected, and then suddenly presenting a mystery woman with a ‘we’ve actually been married since childhood’ excuse? Please be serious.”

Marcus realized then that Lady Starwood’s promise to “fully cooperate” with the plan wasn’t mere lip service. She was seriously invested in making it work. His expression shifted. He set down his glass and straightened up.

“Then what should we do?”

“Say you fell in love. Like you always do.”

Elouise tried to smile, but couldn’t muster one. Instead, she took a sip of her drink. Unlike Marcus, she needed alcohol to complete this insane contract.

“After being dumped by the Duchess, you fell in love with me at first sight by the train station, standing in the rain.”

“Hmm?”

“As for why… well, there could be a few reasons.”

She ticked them off on her fingers.

“I looked pitiful…”

“I'm not the type to confuse pity with love.”

“Then say I looked beautiful.”

“Perfect.”

Marcus nodded.

“You are indeed beautiful.”

Elouise paused for a moment, then moved on efficiently.

“And let’s get married next week.”

“Next week…?”

“That is, unless you’re planning to tell your aunt this marriage is fake.”

“…Wow.”

Marcus blinked in awe. Logan grimaced.

“You hadn’t even considered that, have you?”

“No… I wasn’t planning a ceremony.”

“...You were going to dump the cleanup on me, weren’t you?”

Marcus grinned.

“I was going to give you a bonus.”

“How much?”

“Ten thousand shings.”

“I’ll serve with unwavering loyalty whether it’s a wedding or a funeral.”

God, they’re something else, Elouise thought, but didn’t bother to interfere. She moved quickly, outlining their marriage plan.

“Marriage isn’t official unless registered. I assume the Hanger family’s details are kept in the capital?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Then we’re lovers who were too impatient to wait, so we wed at a chapel here in Cliff. Of course…”

She hesitated, fingers on the table. She didn’t want to involve Juliet in this, but this entire scheme was for Juliet. She took a breath and spoke.

“…I’ll say I begged you not to take me to the capital for the formal introduction, fearing humiliation because I had a child.”

But Marcus shook his head.

“How could I bring myself to do that? Let’s flip the roles. You resisted, saying you couldn’t marry because of your daughter. But I insisted. I was desperate to make you mine.”

“…”

“Lady Starwood, I know I may sound utterly insane…”

So he knows, she thought.

Marcus continued.

“I am well aware of the social scene. You accepted the diamond, but your true goal is your daughter’s entrance into Cliff’s society, correct?”

“…Yes.”

“This isn’t the capital, where debutante balls are a staple. But with the Hanger name, your daughter would receive attention. You could find her a good match.”

Though the Hangers weren’t nobles, the king held Marcus’s father in high esteem. In Cliff, where many capital nobles gathered, the name Hanger bore a significant amount of weight.

“But if people hear you begged to marry me, your daughter may appear as an unwelcome burden. It’s better if they believe I pursued you out of love and begged you to accept.”

The madman had a point.

Besides… Juliet was a concern.

Juliet wasn’t a lacking child, no matter what Madame Visena had implied. At least, Elouise didn’t think so. But others might. People in Cliff who’d never met her would jump to conclusions.

Marcus was right. Juliet’s debut would go better if he loved his wife and doted on his daughter.

“May I ask why you’re raising your daughter alone?”

Elouise considered telling him the truth—that Juliet was her niece—but ultimately didn’t.

Marcus likely assumed she was a widow. After all, who would propose a fake marriage to a maiden?

If she revealed her inexperience, he might withdraw the offer. Elouise decided swiftly.

“She’s my daughter from a previous marriage.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Not a lie. Her sister and her sister’s husband were dead. Elouise pushed down the grief and moved on.

“Let’s extend the marriage term to four months. Wedding next week. A month of honeymoon. During that month, be a good husband to me.”

“Gladly.”

“After that, you can go back to your usual ways.”

Marcus narrowed his eyes.

“So act like our love has faded.”

“You didn’t love me in the first place, so it shouldn’t be hard.”

“Of course.”

Contract marriages weren’t uncommon. Aristocratic families often drew up agreements before marriage.

But Logan swore he’d never seen a couple finalize one so dryly and efficiently like now.

“The diamond’s too heavy to wear as a ring. Should I change it a necklace?”

“No, keep that. I’ll get you a second ring.”

“Why?”

“As a token. Plenty of people saw me give the duchess that diamond. If I reuse it, it’ll look like I’m cheap.”

“Fair enough.”

Logan, noting Marcus’s gesture, proceeded his draft.

The contract period is four months, or 120 days. During this time, Marcus Hanger will provide Elouise Starwood with all financial support necessary for a socially appropriate marriage.

Elouise added.

“For reference, pale blue suits me. If you’re planning surprise gifts, stick to cool colors.”

“Pink suits you too.”

“That’s for little girls.”

“It suits a blushing bride too.”

Elouise gave him an exasperated look. Marcus grinned.

“I mean it. It matches your hair. In sunlight, it shimmers like violet. You look like a foreign princess.”

“You’ve certainly romanced many women. That line is flawless. Make sure to use it in public too—it sounds just like a newlywed’s compliment.”

“Thank you.”

Then came the clause regarding Juliet. Elouise insisted Logan add: All financial support necessary will also be provided to Juliet Starwood.

Marcus asked, “Has she been baptized?”

“Not yet…”

“Perfect. Let’s do it before the wedding.”

“But Juliet has no candidate willing to be her godparent…”

“I’ll be her godfather.”

Elouise’s eyes trembled.

Becoming a godfather was different from marriage. Their fake marriage could be discarded if not registered. But becoming a godparent was a sacred vow to raise the child in faith if the parents died.

“Do you believe in God?”

“I make massive donations to the church every week.”

“Don’t worry,” he added, “This is my way of honoring your honesty.”

Elouise nodded with a hand over her chest.

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

More clauses followed. Elouise hesitated at  the 'no running away for 4 months' part. She couldn’t leave early even if Marcus went completely insane!

But she thought of the 122-carat diamond, clutched her chest, and breathed deeply.

At the ‘No secrets between us for 4 months’ part, Marcus raised a brow.

“If I start dating the duchess, I have to tell you?”

“Obviously. That way I won’t be anxious. I am just an employee, after all.”

Marcus sighed.

“I didn’t think I’d be telling someone about kissing like a teenage boy…”

“Oh, stop right there. That’s not necessary.”

“….”

“Just ‘I started dating’ or ‘it ended’ is enough. I’m not curious beyond that.”

Logan snorted. Marcus pouted in displeasure.

The clause ‘this contract can only be broken with mutual consent and Logan Meyer’s guarantee’ caught Elouise’s eye.

“Sir Meyer, is it?”

“Call me Logan, my lady.”

“Thank you.”

Logan offered his usual capitalist smile, now tinged with a hint of warmth.

Marcus tapped the table in annoyance, then spoke.

“Call me Marcus too, El.”

She frowned slightly. No one had called her El in ages—not since her sister Louise.

Still, they were supposed to be madly in love.

“All right, Marcus.”

Then Elouise added one more clause:

At the end of the contract, you’ll buy back the diamond at appraisal value.

Marcus immediately understand her intention.

The 122-carat diamond was enormous. Only certain channels could sell such a gem. Elouise had no access to those. It would be nearly impossible for her to sell it alone.

Marcus nodded.

“I’ll issue a bank note from Bon Sina on the final day.”

“Thank you. And…”

Was there more?

Logan looked up from the now-cramped contract sheet.

Elouise hesitated, then said:

“We will never fall in love with each other.”

“…”

“Please add that line.”

Elouise Starwood was a sharp woman. She wasn’t naive enough to believe Marcus Hanger wouldn’t fall for her. Marcus's smile deepened.

“If I fall in love, isn’t that a good thing?”

“Right, and then I’ll be thrown out within two months. Marcus, I’m not a fool.”

“Two months is plenty to take advantage of—I apologize. That was a poor choice of words.”

Anger flashed in her eyes, then dissipated. Marcus quickly knelt and apologized.

Many women he dated had loved his money more than him. They borrowed money, asked for jewels. He gave everything. He even encouraged it.

But Elouise was different. She wasn’t a lover—she was an employee.

“I’ll never ask you for anything outside of what’s required by this contract or what you offer of your own goodwill.”

“I understand. I’m sorry, El.”

“Then there’s nothing more to say.”

“May I kiss your hand in apology?”

Elouise looked down at him coldly, removed the glove off her hand, and extended her arm. Marcus gently pressed his forehead to it, then kissed it. A gesture of apology and respect. She withdrew her hand and placed the glove back on.

Marcus returned to his seat. Logan affixed the contract pages to leather backing. Melted wax was placed between the two copies.

Marcus pressed his seal into the wax. Logan lifted the contracts. The wax split cleanly in two, proving the agreement was made simultaneously.

“I don’t have a seal, so I’ll do this instead.”

Elouise, checking for errors, leaned in and kissed the paper. Her lip print remained in pink on both copies—Marcus took the left, Elouise the right.

The contract was complete.

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