Chapter 7

"Yep, you're doing a great job transforming."

"Yes. It's all thanks to everyone's excellent skills."

Gilbert and Abbie were having a serious conversation, and Ort let out a small sigh, "Haa." The women in charge of hair and makeup probably thought (Oh, my lord!), feeling irritated inside, but they didn't show it on their faces.

"Let's head to the castle a bit early."

"Yes. I'll try to keep my mouth closed to avoid making mistakes. Please help me if the king asks difficult questions."

"Ah, if he asks troublesome questions, I'll stop him."

"No, not stop him, but cover for me. Ah, no, I'll try my best."

Seeing Gilbert frown, Ort smoothly approached and prevented any further argument, then sent the two off in a carriage.

There were guards standing at several points as they entered the main gate of the castle. However, when Gilbert showed his face, the carriage was allowed to proceed without inspection. Inside the carriage, silence reigned. There were many questions she wanted to ask, but the atmosphere was not conducive to it.

(I must be like a cushion in the carriage. I'm here because I'm needed, but no one pays attention to a cushion.)

She wasn't being self-pitying. She hadn't expected kindness from Gilbert, her husband.

"We've arrived. Walk next to me."

"Yes."

She took the offered arm and started walking. At first, the difference in their strides made her have to jog, but Gilbert soon noticed and slowed down.

"Thank you."

She expressed her gratitude, but he only nodded in response.

(I won't mind, I won't mind. No response was expected anyway), she smiled wryly.

They encountered an elderly man along the way.

"Lord Egan. Is the one next to you the one you married in a flash?"

"Yes. This is my wife, Abigail. Abigail, this is Duke Dexter Howard, the Chancellor."

"Chancellor, it's a pleasure to meet you. I am Abigail."

"How charming. Gilbert, I didn't know you had a taste for such lovely women. But what about those bandages on your lady's face?"

"Chancellor, we mustn't keep the king waiting. I'll take my leave now."

(Amazed that the lord is so blunt even to the Chancellor), Abbie bowed with a full smile despite her bandages, as if to make up for it. Gilbert pushed her along, saying only, "Then," and left the scene.

They arrived at a white door guarded by two knights. It was a towering door.

The knights opened the door for them. Stepping inside, they found themselves in a spacious, well-appointed room, not a hall.

The luxurious furniture, thick carpets, and opulent curtains made it a 'different world' to Abbie.

"The King and Queen have arrived," a voice announced. Abbie, pulling one foot back, performed a noblewoman's curtsy, which she had rarely used.

"Raise your head," a voice commanded, exuding an indescribable pressure. Even if she hadn't known his identity, it was a voice that would make anyone bow in submission.

"Gilbert, I'm surprised. I didn't expect you to get married in just a few days."

"Please forgive my tardiness in reporting."

"That's fine. You must be Abigail. How did you end up marrying Gilbert?"

"Yes, I—"

"Your Majesty, allow me to explain."

Gilbert then calmly told a huge lie, and Abbie had to use all her concentration to maintain her composure.

"She threw herself in front of my sword to protect her childhood friend. I've never seen a woman with such courage and compassion for just a childhood friend. I thought, if I could have such a person as my wife, how much more at ease I would be, how much more relaxed and healed I would feel."

"Hmm?"

"Moreover, even after I cut her forehead, she didn't complain and was very brave. I thought she was worthy of being my wife, and I acted quickly before any other man could take her."

"Abigail, is that true?"

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Was it because I was nagging you to get married that you agreed to a sham marriage?"

(Here's the critical moment), Abbie took a deep breath.

"No, Your Majesty. That's not the case. My lord was very passionate, repeating, 'I want you to be my wife, no one else will do.'"

"Hmm. That's hard to believe. Gilbert, is it true?"

"It is true."

"I'm surprised. But I'm glad. Truly glad. Abigail, I've always felt sorry for this man, who is called the 'Apostle of Slaughter.' There is no more straightforward and trustworthy vassal than him."

At that moment, Abbie felt a piercing gaze and looked over. The queen, a stunning blonde beauty sitting next to the king, was looking at her. When their eyes met, the queen smiled warmly, transforming from the sharp gaze she had been giving.

(Oh, she's scary), Abbie thought, bowing her head slightly and subtly shifting her gaze to the marble floor in front of her.

"Patricia, you must be relieved too?"

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Ah, that's good, that's good. This is truly a happy occasion. How about joining us for dinner, Gilbert?"

"I must decline. My wife has been on edge since this morning."

"Hehehe. You've become quite the devoted husband. Very well, I'll let it go today. But you must bring Abigail to dinner someday."

"I'll consider it."

Gilbert repeated his indifferent responses without changing his expression.

Abbie was worried (Is it okay? Will I be imprisoned for disrespect?), but the king and Gilbert continued their frank exchange. Eventually,

"Good work, Gilbert," the king said, ending the meeting.

Abbie kept her head bowed until the king and queen left, and when the door closed with a thud, she let out a deep breath. Her palms and back were drenched in sweat.

"Let's go back."

"Yes."

On the way back in the carriage, Gilbert didn't say a word.

When they arrived at the mansion and Abbie was about to get out, Gilbert spoke in a low voice.

"I need to talk to you."

"Yes."

His broad back seemed to radiate anger. Abbie tilted her head, thinking (Why? I did my part, didn't I?).