The Broken Ring: This Marriage Will Fail Anyway Chapter 1

Chapter 1

TW: S*xual content

Prologue

"Sir, Lord Escalante...!"

As he walked through the corridor that split into two terrifying directions, a cry, like the scream of a noblewoman, struck the back of his head. [ʏᴜʟʜᴇʏᴜɴ] When he stopped in his tracks, quick footsteps and voices suddenly approached.

"Excuse me, but could you please help us? The Countess has suddenly complained of severe dizziness, and I have no idea what to do. There are only delicate women here..."

Before the long-winded excuses could continue, Carcel had already put his gloves back on, which he had taken off halfway. There was a hint of weariness on his face, but that was all.

He finally turned to the noblewomen, his expression gruff but friendly.

"...?"

The closest woman approached him, seemingly at a loss for words, and stared at his face, as if she had lost her wits. Her eyes quickly became entranced with just a brief look at him. Just like any other women of the Ortega court or affluent men did. The former were somewhat tiresome, and the latter were nauseatingly flattering.

But the cause was ultimately the same; he was exceedingly handsome.

And being the heir of the Ortega family, the most prestigious lineage in the Navy, and the most handsome man among the mentor knights...

"Lady?"

Sometimes someone's speechlessness was simply the best compliment. If only he could remove those lecherous gazes of old men, he would gladly accept the title of the best hundreds of times over.

He gave a slight smile, a characteristic of a naval officer, which softened his otherwise rough appearance. The firm lines of his lips, which added a touch of sensuality to his dazzling blond hair, momentarily became gentler. The woman's face turned from one that had fallen over in ecstasy to one that suddenly realized her duty and she raised her head.

"...Ah, yes! So, we were waiting for a kind gentleman like you to pass by here to ask for help. We waited a long time, but no one showed up. At such a critical time, Count Escalante, your timely arrival is truly fortunate...!"

Cárcel's eyes moved past the ordinary noblewoman standing in front of him to the other noblewoman who was leaning against the wall, breathing heavily. Her face wasn't very familiar, but it was somewhat recognizable.

The two women standing next to her suddenly began to fidget as if they had suddenly remembered various courtesies. They adjusted their dresses, fanned themselves, and... Could you breathe or walk properly? There were obviously implied requests. To ask now would be rather awkward.

If it had really been an emergency, then anyone would have rushed here to help the noble Countess, who was a mere two minutes away in the reception hall. But no one had done that, which suggested...

"...Indeed, you seem to be in dire straits."

In truth, there was nothing urgent at all. From the beginning, what they were waiting for was not a kind gentleman who would transport the unfortunate lady to a carriage or a room.

In the palace, whenever a ball was held, it was all part of a carefully calculated plan to figure out where Cárcel typically went when he left the ballroom, which route he took, and all the details.

What they were waiting for was solely Cárcel.

Cárcel nodded in acknowledgment and proceeded to walk towards the Countess, who was now sitting against the wall, visibly distressed. He recalled the fact that her husband, Lord Portio, had likely died about a year ago.

As a young and carefree widow, she was, after all, the best companion for a light-hearted enjoyment.

"Can you stand up on your own?"

However, it was better not to be rash and extend a hand first, whether it was to be anyone. So Cárcel stopped in front of the Countess and politely inquired. The Countess's artificially pale face blushed slightly.

"I am sorry..."

"In that case, would it be okay to hold your arm for a moment?"

He asked about the arm, but the whole gentle body of the Countess slipped smoothly into his embrace. [ʏᴜʟʜᴇʏᴜɴ] It was a rather tiresome technique, but it was justified as the banquet was currently even more tedious.

And there was no reason to refuse a gift that had come to him on its own.

"Shall I carry you to a carriage?"

Slightly pushing her away and supporting her, he asked, and the Countess rolled her eyes awkwardly. As a friend or a disciple, the woman who had taken care of the Countess's side with great care answered.

"It's just a simple dizziness, resting in a quiet place for a while will make you feel better... The Count Portillo's residence is on the outskirts of the Mentosa. It will take a long time to depart from the palace now, let alone to the carriage from here..."

"It might be better to move to the third floor."

Cárcel shortened the woman's explanation, saving her from having to explain further. In the south of the palace, there were spaces where nobles who enjoyed the banquet could rest or stretch their bodies.

More accurately, they were places where women like the Countess or men like himself could hide. Cárcel held the Countess in his arms. Despite the ladies' anxiousness for the Countess, no one followed as if they expected him to.

Someone a bit more clever might have made it appear as though they were following him all the way to the stairs.

Perhaps the Countess had recently lost her husband and enjoyed her newfound freedom. She looked immature, even though she knew that, Cárcel refrained from giving advice. There was no need to spread caution on a topic that had rolled around the world.

The bestowal of uniform was such an extraordinary thing. Even if the purpose was to pick it up for a night, the words offered in passing were enough to make sincerity adhere.

Cárcel Escalante de Esposa. This long and honorable name, together with the flawless facade, was a masterpiece made by making an agreement with a plan from the gods to spill saliva here. It wasn't Ortega's great family; someone had said that if it wasn't for the greatness of the Escalante family, he would have died a long time ago.

"As the Guardian of Ortega, you have devoted yourself to continue the will of your grandfather, who passed away a year ago. You have followed the honorable path that has been passed down from generation to generation... However, it was really surprising at first. You are the only heir of the Escalante family, and in the world, the small and large naval battles are frequent events in such a dangerous place. Your great grandfather, the great Admiral Calderon, may have achieved a great victory over the Tarlains in a battle at sea a year ago, and a short peace has come, but the Tarlain pirates are still rampant every time the season changes..."

Diligently studying left clear traces. Her voice poured out as she forgot about her face covered with makeup in her uniform, which had turned her into a dazed woman.

"As Grandes de Ortega, I have learned as much as my rights from the honors conferred by the royal family."

"Indeed."

"My grandfather always said, 'To stand in the most honorable position, one must bear the heaviest responsibility.'"

Cárcel recited his words mechanically, as if he were a machine returning to the textile factory. The Countess seemed to be excited by his composed demeanor, her breath becoming heavy.

And at the moment he thought, 'This is getting a bit dangerous,' she suddenly jumped to the floor and rushed toward him.

"Countess, here—"

"Please, anywhere is fine."

"Still, at least, let's go to a room."

With each comma, the Countess's lips covered his. [ʏᴜʟʜᴇʏᴜɴ] He tried to evade her face here and there and push her closer to a nearby door, but she had already forgotten that she was pretending to be a patient.

"No, I don't want to. The room is too dark..."

"Why is it too dark?"

"I want to see the uniform, your uniform..."

For some reason, she looked at his uniform as if it was licking his collar, and she was clearly a uniform enthusiast. Cárcel looked at the half-unbuttoned shirt that she had pulled down herself and let out a sigh.

Why do they all go mad when they see him? He momentarily hesitated as self-blame approached the level of self-indulgence, but it was just a moment.

It was because a nearly covered chest was shaking temptingly in the dim light, as if it was licked by the dim light.

Grandes de Ortega. Even with such a great background, as the sole heir of the Escalante Marquisate, who was one of the greatest nobles among the 17 noble families that had received the honorable title from the royal family of Ortega, it was no different from the fact that God had given him a lifelong right to show off.

And his philosophy was always that there was no need to laboriously return a gift that was delivered first. Whether it was the shell of a beautiful man that God had given as a gift, women's affection, the gaze of admiration from people of all ages, or a beautiful woman who undressed herself in the middle of the corridor as if to try it...

Originally silent and stoic by nature, Cárcel had turned into a man-eating wolf from a young age. Around the age of fifteen, he began associating with women much older than him, even though he had always been introverted and gruff. By the time he passed his youth at seventeen, wearing the uniform of the naval academy, he had followers everywhere he went, forming a fanatical entourage, and it was around the age of twenty when he met more mature women without any hints of adolescence.

And right now, at twenty-three, it was the prime time.

Cárcel embraced her waist and spun her around, pressing her against the wall. Her kissing technique, while a bit clumsy, was passionate enough to make up for it.

Therefore, appropriate rewards are also necessary. His other theory was that he would never do anything dangerous in such a dangerous place, but...

‘Well, maybe just this once.’

When he grasped her chest and gently trailed his lips along her neckline, the viscountess's expression twisted with delight. She raised her dress's hem to her waist in a disheveled manner, and even when he considered removing his uniform, her touch, should he undress even slightly, was painstaking and obsessive.

As he grasped her chest and gently trailed his lips along her neckline, the viscountess's expression twisted with delight. She raised her dress's hem to her waist in a disheveled manner, and even when he considered removing his uniform, her touch, should he undress even slightly, was painstaking and obsessive.

Even if she rushed him to undress, it would only be bothersome to dress again, so it's better this way. He didn't join the forces for this, but he always enjoyed the perks that came along with it.

Cárcel focused on her body as the Countess was rubbing herself against him and chattering about irrelevant things. He occasionally responded with a few words. He hardly remembered anything.

Then, after several times, he belatedly realized that the same subject was repeating in her words.

Words flowed from the voice of the Countess, and thoughts that had momentarily skimmed through his mind… He did not enlist for this…..

…So why did he enlist? A face surfaced as he unconsciously asked himself.

"…So, for your fiancée, huh, it's too bad for you……. That woman is too plain. Of course, her family is impeccable. She is the princess of the House of Valeztena."

"……."

Inés Valeztena. Just thinking about her made his chest tighten, that calm face. Cárcel scowled at the sculpted face. [ʏᴜʟʜᴇʏᴜɴ] It was too vivid for something recalled in his mind. His desire quickly faded.

"If her face is not pretty, at least she could do pretty things, huh, if she had a soft and smooth taste……."

Even the slander was not sweet. Cárcel stared at the wall for a while, then jerked his head and dodged the Countess's lips with precision. His view naturally shifted sideways.

"With a perfect fiancé like you, having such a stiff and boring face. It's not like she's a nun……."

Inés Valeztena was watching them.

With her unique stiff, boring, nun-like expression.

It was the first discovery in 17 years of engagement.