Chapter3

I stopped halfway down the stairs. Lucien immediately stepped forward, deliberately blocking the young, weeping Elven girl from my view, looking completely ready for a confrontation.

"Evelyn, this is my cousin, Elara," he began. "And from now on—"

"Thanks!" I interrupted. I walked right up and snatched the expensive bags of Elven pastries straight out of his hands, flashing a polite smile. "I'm exhausted from last night, so please forgive my lack of hospitality. Make yourselves at home."

Without waiting for a response, I spun around on my heel and marched right back upstairs to my bedroom.

Because of that, I totally missed the hushed, frantic conversation in the foyer below.

"Cousin, I told you she'd misunderstand!" Elara hissed.

"Good. I want her to misunderstand. I want her to be jealous," Lucien grumbled. "Who told her to stare at other males during our wedding?!"

"You were flirting with other females first!"

"So what? The Fae are naturally flirtatious—"

Smack. Elara slapped his arm. "Our charm is meant for finding our compatible mate! Think about what you're doing, idiot!"

Upstairs, I sat at my bedroom vanity, eating a delicate berry tart. Once I was full, I pulled out a magical projection scroll and began flipping through moving illusions of handsome young men.

The door swung open. Lucien walked in, looking sulky. He sat heavily on the edge of the bed and refused to speak.

I looked at his brooding expression and realized my mistake.

Ah. I'm taking up space.

I stood up tactfully, but before I could walk away, he grabbed my wrist.

"What are you doing?" he demanded.

"Giving you and your cousin the room," I said. "The bed is big and comfortable, right?"

"She’s already left."

"Oh? That was fast. Why didn't she stay for tea?"

Just then, my communication crystal buzzed. I tapped it. "Hello? Yes, about Candidate Number 18. How's his stamina for twelve-hour banquet shifts? Great, send me his contact info—"

Lucien snatched the crystal and cut the connection.

"Evelyn!" he snapped, pointing a trembling finger at the illusion of the muscular male hovering above the scroll. The tips of his Fae ears flushed pink. "Is his face better than mine? Is his body better? How could you..."

To be fair, the man wasn't as good-looking as Lucien.

But...

I said. "Can he do the things you can not do?"

Lucien stared at me in disbelief. "Was I not enough for you last night?! What kind of wild games are trying to play?"

Half an hour later.

I pointed at the two large trunks I had brought from my previous estate. "Put this on."

Lucien shot me a glaring look. "I can't believe you're into this... Wait, is this it?"

He held up a perfectly tailored, midnight-blue velvet vest and an enchanted silver apron, looking confused. "Didn't you say you could do anything he could do?"

"You hired a male model... to act as a waiter ?"

I laughed. "What else would it be?"

I dragged Lucien around our massive bedroom, using an imaging crystal to take pictures. The luxury estate was gorgeous.

And so, on the second day of our marriage, I took over a thousand promotional photos of my husband.

This was the dream I had desperately wanted to pursue in my past life. Even before I married Alistair, I had always wanted to open my own high-end restaurant—a culinary empire fusing human recipes with magical Elven ingredients, complete with impeccable, aristocratic service.

My ex-husband, Alistair, had been disgusted by the idea.

"Do I not give you enough money?" he had sneered. *"Stop playing with pots and pans like a common tavern wench. You are a Duke's wife."

He had confiscated my tools, burned my recipe books, and locked me in the estate, demanding that I focus purely on breeding an heir.

"Wow! You made me look incredible!"

Lucien's eyes sparkled. His pointed ears twitched in excitement as he looked at the crystal projections. He was thrilled with the attention.

I reached out and rubbed his ears in praise. "You're naturally very handsome."

Lucien's cheeks flushed.

He pounced, tackling me onto the velvet sofa. He buried his face in my neck . We wrestled and pushed each other around the cushions for ten minutes.

By the time we settled down, the sample uniform he wore was a torn disaster.

"Ah! My prototype!" I groaned at the ruined garment. The enchanted preservation fabric was absurdly expensive. I shot him a fierce glare.

Lucien looked guilty, refusing to meet my eyes.

"Um..." he cleared his throat. "Why did you make these, anyway? Just for fun?"

I hesitated. But I decided to lay all my cards on the table.

He was going to find out eventually. I was gambling that a Fae Prince would spend his energy maintaining his own political reputation; he wouldn't have time to micromanage me.

"I plan on opening my own restaurant," I declared.

I braced myself for his mockery or refusal. No matter what obstacles this new life threw at me, I was going to make my dream happen.

Instead, Lucien's expression turned dead serious. He cupped his chin, falling into deep thought.

Then, he spoke.

"Have you secured a central storefront in the Capital? Are we targeting the aristocrats, or the new merchant class? Have you drafted the commerce treaties with the Registry?"

"...Huh?"

I stared at him, completely and utterly frozen.