SFO CH 1

The Young Man’s Tired Daily Life

Ah, I’m so tired…

That’s the thought that crossed my mind as I threw myself onto the bed.

It hadn’t been a particularly special day. As usual, after returning home from working overtime at my post under the direct supervision of the Prime Minister, I pushed my tired body to chat with my indifferent husband over dinner. Then I took care of the tedious paperwork from the marquis family as part of my duties as a wife, and after receiving no particular acknowledgement from my husband even after I gave him my report, I smiled politely, said “good night” without even receiving a reply, and returned to my room.

It has been three years since I married my husband, who is a marquis. There is no denying that this was a political marriage. About eight years ago, the economy of my husband’s territory fell apart when it suffered from both a natural disaster and a plague at the same time. By chance, through a certain connection, his family ended up requesting help from my family, which had many civil engineers due to our lands being so prone to floods. Using the expertise we had developed, we successfully helped with their territory’s recovery, and this marriage was arranged as a reward. The former head of the marquis family was so pleased with the recovery that he insisted on developing a relationship between our families, and we even started a joint business venture. That venture was a huge success, and the joint company is still thriving to this day.

Eight years ago, I was 18 years old and had already been working in the royal palace for three years. Since I was grateful towards my family because they gave me the freedom to study abroad, I couldn’t bring myself to go against their wishes, so I became engaged to my husband, who was only 13 at the time.

When the engagement was decided, it seems my husband cried and resisted. The first time we met, his face was swollen from crying, and he greeted me with a sullen expression.

The reason for that was because he had a childhood friend he adored, and they had promised to marry each other when they were little. This childhood friend was the third son of a neighboring baron, and the two families were close. It seems that his family sympathized with him, but the former head of the marquis family had already made the decision, and our engagement was settled.

However, my husband didn’t give up. He became romantically involved with his childhood friend, trying to somehow get permission to marry him. Even as a student, he started several new ventures, grew their business, and enriched his family’s finances. By the time he came of age at 15 years old, his businesses were generating enough income to cover a third of his family’s finances. But the former head of the marquis family, who possessed a strong sense of duty, could not ignore the debt he had with our family for helping them with their territory’s recovery, so he refused to break off the engagement. He was supposed to marry me right after coming of age, but he managed to delay the marriage for three years by persistently putting a spoke into the wheel whenever he could.

And yet, after trying so hard for so many years to marry his childhood friend, he ultimately gave up. Why, you ask? Because his beloved childhood friend had gone and married another man.

Despite being doted on by everyone around him to an almost ridiculous extent, and despite believing that his childhood friend and him shared mutual feelings, in the end, his childhood friend did not choose my husband.

The reason for this was that this childhood friend was an extremely ordinary man. He had typical brown hair and brown eyes. His face wasn’t unattractive, but it wasn’t striking either. He was slightly shorter than average, and his grades were nothing extraordinary. I met him a few times; he was gentle, timid, and always blushing—truly a run-off-the-mill young man. Of course, since they’d been close since childhood and had a physical relationship, he must have had some affection for my husband. But despite my husband protecting him, the harsh gazes of others, the feeling that they didn’t belong together, and the will of the former marquis he admired were too much for him to bear.

Worn out by the life of being loved by my husband, despite his inner turmoil, he was supported by a commoner—an ordinary librarian. During the time when my husband was working tirelessly to gain the approval of the former marquis and wasn’t able to meet him, the childhood friend started visiting the library in the hopes of acquiring knowledge to assist my husband. He studied from morning till night, and as he became more and more exhausted, it was the librarian who, seeing this and finding himself no longer able to remain indifferent, finally spoke to him. Eventually, one day, the childhood friend collapsed in the library, and when the librarian helped him, he confessed his unrequited love. The childhood friend, crushed by all of his pressures, found solace in the warmth the librarian provided…

When my husband’s childhood friend came to him to say his goodbyes, my husband reacted by holding him harshly, refusing to let go to the point of even trying to confine him. However, the librarian, worried when the childhood friend didn’t return, bravely appealed to the former marquis, who realized what was going on, separated the childhood friend and my husband, and forced my husband into an arranged marriage with me.

Right before they were separated, the childhood friend tearfully said, “I loved you. I don’t think I’ll ever find anyone who loves me as much as you do. But even so, I can’t be with you.” After that, my husband became so apathetic that it looked as if his soul had left his body.

The wedding still took place, and about a month after being officially married, my once earnest and capable husband started throwing himself into his work managing the territory, as if to shake something off.

Incidentally, while my husband and his childhood friend were fighting for love, I was fighting for my promotion in the royal palace…

As a low-ranking civil servant, I worked diligently, and during a certain day when I was discussing the current policies with my colleagues during lunchtime, I caught the attention of the Vice-Chancellor’s assistant. In my fifth year, I was transferred to work directly under the Chancellor. The job was high in responsibility and heavy in workload. For the first few years after the transfer, I was so busy that I couldn’t go home, and frankly, I wasn’t even thinking about the arranged marriage. So when the marriage got delayed, I honestly didn’t mind. Of course, I was anxious about marrying someone who clearly didn’t want to be with me, but the marriage with the powerful marquis family was clearly beneficial to my own family, whose territory was constantly suffering from floods. So when my kind, concerned family said, “If you don’t want this, we can make it stop,” I shook my head.

Once I got used to the job and my hard work was gradually being recognized, the overtime decreased. Around that time, I received word that my husband had finally come to terms with everything and wanted to proceed with the marriage. When we finally met – though we had met a few times a year out of formality – I was shocked by how drastically his appearance had changed. His eyes were dull, and the once confident, firm man had become a shadow of his former self. I couldn’t help but marvel at how terrifying love could be.

By the way, during our engagement, my husband, being the high-ranking nobleman he was, didn’t treat me rudely or hint at the existence of his childhood friend after the first incident. I assume this was arranged by the former marquis, but gifts would arrive on my birthday without fail, and we would exchange brief words during New Year’s greetings. Still, despite our efforts to meet and keep up appearances, rumors still reached me, and there was a time when I was vilified in high social circles as the one who had ruined the pure love between the two of them. It seems the former marquis did everything in his power to deal with this, though.

There was, of course, no wedding night. Since our wedding took place two weeks after our marriage, my husband was still in an apathetic state. While his handling of guests was indeed flawless, the moment we moved into our new home, all his energy seemed to vanish. But I suppose it’s understandable. After all, he was forced into a marriage with the very person responsible for his breakup, not even a month after being given the cold shoulder by his lover. I didn’t mind and devoted myself to my work as usual.

That said, I don’t particularly enjoy awkwardness at home. Even if there’s no romantic feelings, it’s too stressful to live in constant hostility or silence. So, I decided that I, the young man who has destroyed the relationship between those two, I should be the one to try and create an atmosphere where we could at least coexist. I’ve been trying to do so for three years now…

But honestly… yeah, I’m tired…