"And should I ever stray to another man, you must scold me! But if you, my dear, were to become enamored with another woman, well then… I’ll fight that thieving cat and make sure I win. After that, I’ll refuse to speak to you ever again."
"I would never, ever cheat. I swear, Celestine, you’re my only one. Please, stay by my side and keep smiling forever."
When I kissed his round, bald head tenderly, he looked up at me with dazed, teary eyes and reached out, his expression one of utter adoration.
Perfect. What a dream of a man.
To think this ideal husband was mine… I couldn’t help but feel grateful—not to some god, but to that foolish prince, my former fiancé.
＊ ＊ ＊
My wife is beautiful.
The perfect curves of her body, visible even through her dress, draw the eyes of every man in the room.
Her finely sculpted face is almost too perfect, exuding a cold beauty that leaves onlookers feeling inferior. Her presence alone highlights one’s own inadequacies, a perfection that is as intimidating as it is captivating.
No ordinary man—least of all a shallow young fool like the prince—could possibly deserve her.
If she ever turned her gaze toward a man, smiling at him even briefly, he would undoubtedly sacrifice his every possession to ensure that smile was reserved for him alone.
She is like a goddess born from the starry heavens of a moonlit night.
Perhaps it was the desire to drag such a lofty being down into the dirty, mundane world that led me to agree to the prince’s scheme.
During our wedding, I was filled with nothing but cruel intentions. Yet, somewhere along the way, it was I who was swept away by the night sky she embodied.
As I suspected, she is willful. But more than that, she is adorable, beautiful, and remarkable.
In bed, she gazes at me with the eyes of a lovestruck maiden.
For a young and handsome man, such looks might be expected. Yet, the one she gazes at is me—not young, not handsome, but laden with wealth, power, and fat.
As a seasoned statesman, I can distinguish feigned affection from genuine love. After all, I’ve encountered countless women, from amateurs to professionals. Their eyes always glimmered with something other than desire—ambition, greed, or calculation—just as mine often reflected the same.
I do not condemn this. I’ve benefited greatly from exploiting such dynamics. But after every encounter, a profound emptiness lingered.
Women slept with my wealth and power, not with me. Even the most skilled among them, those who hid their intentions well, could never fully mask the truth.
At first, I thought my wife would be no different. The rumors suggested she was a woman driven entirely by greed.
But on our wedding night, as my hands reached out with avarice, she enveloped them in warmth and love.
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