Located inside the Lacey Kingdom, Leodids was one of the largest territories and blessed with abundant nature. To put it bluntly, it was the countryside.

It was a region specializing in wood production. I understood that there was a vast quantity available. Most of the territory was not suitable for farming or raising poultry or cow. The main issue, though, was that the neighboring Kingdom which bordered the territory were quite hostile. Even if we weren’t dealing with that, the forest beasts are quite aggressive.

Due to this, they’d developed a specialty for producing good soldiers. They’d been trained by skirmishes that took place on their land. The army of Leodids was so strong that all of the Kingdom knew of them. At the head of the army was nonother than Margrave Eduard Bartoshuk. He’d inherited his position at eighteen and now at twenty-six stood as the famous “Shield of the North.”

The black hair, green-eyed stalwart Margrave possessed skills and ingenuity so great that even his son, Alfred, still deferred to him with a “I’m still no match for my father.”

He’s the Dark Warlord of Leodids who never shies away from standing at the forefront of battle.

…To the point where the Royal family had gone slack in their attitude thinking that, “There’s no need to worry, Bartoshuk can handle it.”

Well, back to me.

I thoroughly drilled in my mind all the information that I could about the place where I was to be married. All in three days. Then, I, Justina, finally arrived in the countrysi— I mean Leodids.”

As for the heart pounding first meeting with Eduard I’m quite sure you’re curious about…nothing of that sort happened. Hell, I haven’t even seen his face yet and it’s been two days since I came here! No word from him either! I’m starting to doubt if we’re living in the same mansion!

Of course, it wasn’t like I sat on my hands and waited for him.

I told the butler that I’d like to greet my husband now as soon as I’d arrived but was rejected with “the Master is quite busy right now.” Of course, he followed up with “Please don’t worry about such formalities. Think of this as your own home and relax.”

All I could do was laugh dryly in response and make a strategic retreat. (Besides I was tired from traveling for five days.)

I tried again the following day.

“I would like to greet my husband and speak with him—”

“If you’d like to speak about the wedding then I’ve been told that the ceremony will be held at a later date after everything has settled down. Please forgive us as there’s so much to deal with after the war.”

Kuh. There’s no way I could say anything about that after coming from the Royal family.

Their attitude was completely “It was your side who brought this up so figure it out by yourself, we’re not accommodating you.” I was blatantly an unwanted bride.

If I’d been a naïve, young girl dreaming of her marriage I’d have been crying right now, you know? Cold reception, no ceremony, blatantly being treated like a pest and unable to meet my husband—you wouldn’t think it the kind of reception a Royal would receive.

However, even I—whom no one wants—have aspirations. The glittering aspirations known as ‘Alfred!’

Still, it was impossible to have a child without meeting the husband. Even I, a sheltered princess, knows this.

I just want to meet my cute son, Alfred, damnit and they’re standing in my way. As they keep denying me, there’s only one option. That’s right: force!

How about a more peaceful option, like a letter, you ask? Impossible, the other side will surely dismiss it saying: “the Master is busy and has not had a chance to get to the letter yet.” I could wait until I was reincarnated again, and it would make no difference.

They’re really going to milk this ‘busy’ excuse.

I mean if you’re going to lie then at least lie convincingly!

Don’t worry my unseen husband, I’ll make you regret leaving me alone without even bothering to think of a good excuse. No matter the age, the best way to negotiate is in person. I, who had a sales job in my previous life, know this best: if you want people to listen then show up unexpected.

…The problem was that I didn’t know which one my husband’s room was.

(By the way, the room I’ve been given is a guest room…even though I’M THE WIFE.)

Well, let’s get permission to walk through the gardens first. I’ll look through the window of each room—no, I’m not a peeping tom! Whether a room is significant or not easily comes across from the window dimensions and interior decoration. I’ll use my observation skills to guess the lord’s room.

The next step is having them give me a tour. (Of course, only to the extent that they’re alright with.)

In fact, managing an estate is the wife’s responsibility. There are no women in the Bartoshuk family right now, hence the only candidate is me. The titular mistress of the house is me! …Naturally I know that they won’t ask me to fulfill that role. I’m not even recognized as a proper wife yet.

I asked the butler, who was currently managing the household, to teach this naïve girl bit-by-bit. Well, again, how much will be taught depends on him. What to teach also depends on him…

The butler hesitated for a moment when a graceful young lady—that’s me, by the way—pleased for something with no obvious advantage. He conceded in the end saying that he’d include it in the house tour.

I kept an eye on the interior and servant’s movements as we walked around the mansion. You can tell by a servant’s actions if their master is close by or not. Even if they don’t intend to give it away, it’s just human nature.

Now all that’s left to do is match the information from the exterior and interior missions.

I’m totally a criminal? No, no, this is just the honest effort of a graceful young lady who is trying to become familiar with the house into which she will marry.

Anyway, that’s how I guessed which room was my husband’s study.

“I’m really sorry about the incident this time! Please forgive us!”

I knocked on the door and receiving after receiving reply, entered. There were two men inside, both look surprised to see me. Of course, as soon as I verified that there was a black-haired man in this room, I performed a dogeza and screamed out that apology. Ah, all of that happened within five seconds of entering.

I took advantage of the fact that they must be stunned to continue. “I’m aware that an apology from a girl of such low birth amongst the Royal family must not amount to much or soothe your anger but I believe it is my responsibility to apologize. If you’re satisfied with me then please feel free to do anything!”

I learned the hard way that bowing your head ain’t worth anything from my previous life. That said, just because it might not get you what you want doesn’t mean it hurts to apologize either.

Either way, the dogeza is a combination of calculations using two lifetimes of experience. A noblewoman groveling and begging for forgiveness in and of itself shouldn’t be allowed in this world. Moreover, the person in question is actually innocent so I don’t think there’s anyone that won’t sympathize with this pitiful girl.

As for my neck, I’m not worried that it’s in any danger. I should be forgiven. This is just a performance in the end. I’m not in the wrong but I’m apologizing on their behalf so please show me some mercy. Let bygones be bygones and have a child with me.

Pride? What’s that? Can you eat it?

“Princess Justina?! You don’t need to do that, please lift your face!” A bewildered man called out to me. While I don’t know what my husband sounds like, I feel like this isn’t him. I just knew instinctively. The owner of this voice should be the other gentleman in the room.

If it was Eduard Bartoshuk, he would sound more—

“…Princess Justina, raise your face.”

Yup, like that: a commanding voice that won’t allow any disobedience.

I looked up.

Standing in front of a desk filled with documents and framed by floor-to-ceiling windows and bookshelves was the personification of fortitude and vigor. The stern man with short black hair and green eyes continued, “I accept your apology. If you’re done here, then return to your room.” He said it without any amiability.

“N-no, lord husband, there’s something more…” He hasn’t introduced himself yet, but this man is definitely my husband and the future father of Alfred Eduard Bartoshuk. I quickly stood up and bowed. “This is our first meeting. I am Justina, and as your wife I—”

“…Didn’t you hear what I said about greetings from the butler?”

“…I have, however, as husband and wife we—”

“Then that’s enough. Return to your room.”

At least listen to the end!! I suppressed my urge to shout and straightened my posture. “I have a request, lord husband.”

“What is it?” He asked bluntly, raising an eyebrow.

Just looking at his face, I could tell that Alfred totally took after his father. Well, except for his eye color. If you just replaced the green eyes with purple, then you’d be set. “Please give me your love, lord husband.”

…The temperature inside the room dropped.

Both their expressions looked as if they’d heard something ridiculous. (Alfred is still more expressive than his father, though. Ah, I want to see Alfred’s different expressions in front of me.) That said, I don’t know what to make of a territory lord staring at a woman with wide eyes and an open mouth.

I smiled—well, it was a smile for my future son not my husband—and said: “I want to have your child.”

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