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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: FusionX
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A runaway train with no brakes.
Even though the process hadn’t been smooth, Elena, with official approval in hand, was an unstoppable force.
I still couldn’t fathom why I was experiencing “seudmeu” or whatever it was called in this world, but Elena’s tenacity was as formidable as her drive.
[T/N: Imma be honest I genuinely have no fuckin clue on this one sorry boys.]
“It’s a once-in-a-lifetime event. Don’t you agree?”
The magic words that could silence me instantly.
I’d heard that phrase so many times I was developing a complex.
Logically, she wasn’t wrong. Unless I planned to get divorced and remarried, a wedding was a once-in-a-lifetime event. And divorce was taboo in this era.
The calm, rational, and always logical Rudrick Weiss in my head said,
‘This will all be a memory someday. Stop whining like a child. Just go with the flow. Or are you getting cold feet now that the wedding is actually happening?’
And the perpetually dissatisfied, easily discouraged, and realistic Rudrick Weiss said,
‘I get it, but this is excessive. We can just pick out some clothes, find a venue, and get it over with. Why go through all this trouble? This is crossing the line.’
Caught between these two conflicting personalities, I ultimately sided with the rational one.
The reason wasn’t complicated.
Even Sylphia and Eileen, who usually seemed indifferent, had hinted at their excitement for the wedding. They were just more subtle than Elena.
“Let’s just look at one more place.”
“Eileen, you said you were tired a moment ago.”
“I did. But now that we’re here, I’m feeling a bit more ambitious. Just one more place.”
If even Eileen was saying this, how could I complain?
I’d just be the insensitive one. A little extra effort wasn’t a big deal. It was just a minor inconvenience for me.
I had to accept it. I was going to spend the rest of my life with these women. I couldn’t complain about something so trivial.
No one was forcing me to marry them.
I couldn’t complain about it now, especially with all the attention this wedding was attracting.
So, in the end…
I decided to choose what I wanted and let them handle the rest. I’d only offer my opinion when asked.
“You’re so strange, Rudrick.”
“What’s so strange?”
“Usually, the groom is the one who’s excited about these things, picking things out, getting overwhelmed by choices… isn’t that how it usually goes?”
“Usually, yes. But am I all that usual?”
“Hmm… that’s true. Most men don’t have five wives.”
Lassiel shrugged, as if my answer was self-evident, and rejoined the heated discussion about the wedding venue. It was amusing to watch her join in, especially since she seemed the least likely to care.
If even Lassiel was this invested, just imagine what the others were like.
I shook my head and opened the newspaper.
For the literate, mostly nobles, newspapers were a source of gossip, similar to celebrity news in my past life.
And the article didn’t disappoint.
“The Wedding of the Century,” I read out loud.
A sensational headline.
Initially, the articles had simply mentioned my relationship with Lassiel, but now, the details were surprisingly thorough.
It was inevitable.
With all the commotion we’d caused in the capital, rumors were bound to spread.
I wondered about my privacy, but then I reminded myself this was a medieval world. Concepts like privacy and image rights didn’t exist.
I sighed, reading the articles about my wedding.
“Well, what can you do?”
I felt like a monkey in a zoo, but I’d anticipated this. There was no point in complaining now.
A typical insecure man, overly concerned with others’ opinions.
A real man wouldn’t care, forging his own path. I was marrying these women because we loved each other.
What did other people’s opinions matter?
“What are you reading?”
“The newspaper.”
“Wow.”
Sylphia leaned her head on my shoulder, scanning the article.
“Do humans have nothing better to do? They’re so interested in other people’s weddings.”
“I guess so. That’s why they write articles about it.”
“This is ridiculous… they’re practically stalking us. Next thing you know, they’ll be writing about where we bought our dresses and who we invited.”
“It could happen.”
Having lived in the 21st century, I wasn’t surprised.
Sylphia, having experienced human culture, looked utterly disgusted, but giving unsolicited advice on celebrity weddings was practically a national pastime.
In this world, we were the celebrities.
The newspapers had dubbed our wedding “The Wedding of the Century,” and it was attracting a lot of attention.
Fortunately, our status prevented reporters from openly following us, but they’d be back soon with new articles.
“Why are you so bothered? You’re as narrow-minded and petty as a lizard.”
“Say ‘lizard’ one more time, and I’ll kill you.”
“Just think of it as humans having too much time or being overly curious.”
“Then say that from the beginning! Who are you calling a lizard, you bloodsucking bat?”
Sylphia and Arwen, still at odds, began to bicker.
Once again, I had to intervene.
“If you fight, no hand-holding for a month.”
“Oh.”
“B-But…”
I wasn’t a kindergarten teacher, and I didn’t want to resort to such petty tactics, but what else could I do?
They fought every time they met.
Their relationship was almost as volatile as Eileen and Lassiel’s. It was important to intervene before things escalated.
Arwen and Sylphia were natural enemies.
I didn’t know why, but… I decided to ask,
“Why do you two hate each other so much?”
“That sun-fearing bat called me a lizard.”
I’d asked Sylphia, but Arwen answered.
“Arwen, why do you keep provoking Sylphia?”
“Three hundred years ago…”
“Huh?”
“That lizard killed one of my clan members.”
“What?”
Arwen’s violet eyes flashed with anger.
Sylphia averted her gaze.
“I told you, it was an accident.”
“I cherished her.”
The atmosphere became serious all at once.
I looked at them, puzzled.
What accident?
Sylphia, avoiding my gaze, explained,
“I’d just woken up from hibernation and was… testing my magic. I fired a spell randomly, and it hit her clan member.”
Silence.
This was serious.
I knew all vampires ultimately descended from Arwen. She was the first vampire, the True Ancestor.
But for Arwen to call someone her clan member, it meant she’d shared her blood, creating a servant. And Sylphia had accidentally killed them with a stray spell. It was natural for Arwen to hold a grudge.
“She loved playing fetch… Creating a new one wouldn’t be the same. They wouldn’t have her memories,” Arwen murmured, her voice somber.
“Playing fetch…?”
An odd phrase, given the context.
Arwen elaborated,
“I prefer dogs to cats. I just transformed into a cat because it’s more convenient. I created her because I was lonely…”
“Ah…”
The tension dissipated instantly.
So, Arwen had created a dog-like servant, and Sylphia had accidentally killed it.
“It’s like the Hound of the Baskervilles,” I muttered, then shook my head.
It turned out, I’d been overthinking it all along.
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