Chapter 121

‘Proposal.’

Armin’s expression darkened as he thought of the ring case he always kept tucked inside his coat. He’d known for a long time that he should propose. But ever since his return from the border, there hadn’t been a moment to spare—the urgent matters that erupted one after another gave him no time. He just hadn’t expected Vivian to ask him about it so directly, and now he was genuinely troubled.

After the public announcement that Alessandro Roha was named in the oracle as the destined husband for Princess Florin of Gellang, the closest people gathered for a more private celebration. Sasha and Princess Florin, Lewyn and Abyss, and finally himself and Vivian had rented out an entire restaurant to eat and drink in peace. It was a delightful time.

Swept up in the joy of it all, Vivian had tossed back two glasses of champagne in quick succession and started excitedly telling Lewyn and Abyss about something she’d witnessed. It was the proposal Alessandro made to Princess Florin in her room.

It was a good story, and there was no reason to keep it a secret, though Princess Florin blushed in embarrassment. But even as she blushed, her face lit up with happiness.

Armin’s chest ached.

“Armin, what’s wrong?”

Vivian, her cheeks flushed from the alcohol, looked up at him and asked. Her face, touched with that rosy warmth, was more beautiful than usual. Armin brushed off the question with a vague response and gently took the champagne glass from her hand, replacing it with a glass of water.

Puff—Vivian puffed out her cheeks in protest, clearly displeased, but her attention was soon stolen by Lewyn and Abyss, who kept pressing for the rest of the story. She quickly forgot her irritation and continued talking with cheerful excitement.

Proposal.

That three-syllable word lodged itself firmly in Armin’s mind, refusing to leave. He let out a deep sigh. The classic way—presenting the ring in a private room with just the two of them—had already been taken by Sasha. He needed to think of something else. Something different.

* * *

After the lively celebration came to an end, Armin returned straight home. It had been an evening of heavy eating and drinking, yet not the slightest trace of intoxication touched him. There was simply too much on his mind for that.

“You’re home, sir.”

At some point, the butler appeared and took his coat. Armin gave a short nod. His thoughts were in disarray, and the weight of it made him weary.

He was planning to go straight to his room to rest but hesitated briefly before asking the butler,

“Where’s my mother?”

“She’s in her room.”

“Please tell her I’d like to see her.”

“Of course, young Master.”

Armin watched the butler’s retreating figure, feeling anxious. There was truly no one more reliable than his mother in matters like this.

Soon after, the duchess sent word through the butler to come upstairs. When Armin arrived at her room, she had just set her pen down on her desk.

“What is it?”

“I need your help with something, Mother.”

“My help? The sun must be rising in the west. What could you possibly need my help with?”

She smiled with amused curiosity, and Armin hesitated. His mother was certainly a master in this area—but she was also a veteran at teasing him.

After a short pause, he made up his mind and spoke.

“It’s about… a proposal.”

“A proposal?”

The duchess’s eyes sparkled. Come to think of it, while she’d already assumed Vivian would become her daughter-in-law, she hadn’t yet given much thought to the romantic and proper nature of this essential event.

“My goodness! How could you have forgotten something so important?”

“…Never mind. I think I’ll just figure it out myself.”

The look in her eyes was one Armin knew too well. Regretting that he’d brought this up, he tried to take it back—but it was too late. The floodgates were open.

“What are you talking about? If we put our heads together, we’ll come up with something good.”

“No, really, I just—”

“What was that romance novel Vivian liked again?”

Armin’s mouth clamped shut like a clam.

He loved her. He respected his mother. But liking romance novels? That was another matter entirely. He’d tried several times to align with Vivian’s interests, only to come up short every time.

Still, didn’t they say wisdom could be found in books?

Maybe if he checked the books Vivian especially liked—the ones his mother had written—he might find an answer.

Watching him like that, the Duchess couldn’t hold back her laughter anymore and burst out giggling.

Really. He was becoming more and more like Vivian. He used to be much better at hiding his expressions. But seeing the desperation on her son’s face, she felt a genuine desire to help.

The Duchess pulled a few books from her bookshelf and handed them to him.

“Read them well and think hard about it, Armin.”

* * *

After returning to his room, Armin not only gathered the books his mother had selected for him, but also pulled out every single novel that had ever come up in passing conversation with Vivian. The stack of books now towered to his own height on the desk.

“…Guess I really do have to read them.”

They weren’t remotely his taste, but if it was for Vivian, he couldn’t exactly say it was impossible. Smacking both his cheeks with a loud clap, Armin sat down with renewed determination.

[The male lead locks the heroine in a room and brainwashes her every day, insisting she must marry him.]

[The male lead proposes with a modest confession in a meadow.]

[The male lead drunkenly proposes without realizing it.]

[The male lead rescues the kidnapped heroine, confesses his love, and proposes.]

How could each book have such wildly different scenarios? Armin was already on his second page of neatly organized proposal methods.

He couldn’t help but feel a surge of admiration for his mother again. To think all of this had come from her mind—truly, she was incredible.

And yet, even after closing the last book, nothing stood out as the right answer.

Lock Vivian in a room and say she can’t leave unless she marries him? Knowing her, she’d probably throw her hands up in joy and thank him for the peace and quiet.

The modest meadow proposal didn’t sit right with Armin. Worse, it was from Vivian’s favorite novel—<The Demon Duke Is Obsessed With Me.> It was the very book that had brought him and Vivian together. If he mimicked that proposal, she’d figure it out the moment they stepped onto the field.

As for proposing while drunk—it felt cowardly. And given how tipsy Vivian had gotten tonight, there was a very real chance she wouldn’t even remember the proposal by morning.

And really—who in this country would dare try to kidnap Vivian? She was practically a walking headline of late-stage drama, constantly drawing attention wherever she went.

The books had helped, but the idea that the answer lay in them had been a lie. It felt like each possibility opened up a hundred more, only to vanish just as quickly.

Frustrated, Armin collapsed onto his bed. He hadn’t even changed out of his clothes. His eyes stung from reading so long into the night.

Pathetic.

He knew—knew better than anyone—that no matter what kind of proposal he made, Vivian would accept it with joy. And yet… he still wanted to give her nothing less than the absolute best.

With an arm over his forehead, he let out a deep sigh and glanced toward his desk.

The books he’d read were still piled high, like a mountain. Just as he began to turn his gaze away, Armin’s body froze.

Then slowly, very slowly, his head turned back again.

‘…A book?’

Armin’s eyes remained fixed on the desk.

* * *

“Busy again today?”

“That’s what he says. I’ve no idea what kind of work keeps him from even showing his face.”

“Do you think he might be sick?”

“Do you really think he’s the kind to fall ill?”

Well… fair enough.

Vivian nodded. In all the time she’d known Armin, he’d never once fallen ill. He wasn’t like her brother, who came down with a cold after returning from the border. And even if he were sick, Armin wasn’t the type to stay away from her this long without a word.

Her face dimmed with uncertainty. The Duchess looked at her with a touch of sympathy.

Just a few days ago, Armin had come to her asking for help with a proposal. He’d spent the entire night reading through the books she’d given him.

Knowing her son, she hadn’t expected him to imitate any of the proposals word for word. But given how many types of proposals those books covered, she assumed he would at least find some inspiration. The method Armin had ultimately chosen had surprised even her.

The duchess knew exactly why Armin had been so busy lately—but she couldn’t say a word to Vivian. It was truly unfortunate.

Meanwhile, Vivian nervously bounced her leg. It had been over a week since Armin started avoiding her. His strange behavior had begun the very day of the oracle announcement.

Could it really be because of that?

That get-together afterward—just a casual evening between close friends after the ceremony. If there was any possible cause, that had to be it.

I definitely remember happily telling Lewin and Abyss all about Sasha’s proposal…

It had been a cheerful, lively evening. But two glasses of champagne had gone straight to her head, and everything after that was a blur. She didn’t even know when she’d passed out—only that she’d woken up in her own bed the next morning.

“Miss, alcohol is strictly forbidden for you.”

That’s what Michelle had scolded her with, holding a mug of honey water, claiming she hadn’t learned her lesson from the ball.

And now, a week has gone by.

Vivian hadn’t seen Armin once.

“I think…”

“You think…?”

“I think Armin’s mad at me.”

Vivian muttered with misplaced certainty, convinced of something that wasn’t true. The Duchess gave a weary sigh, unable to hold it back.