Okay. Let's do this again.
"Hello, Mr. Emil. I'm your new wife. Kumiko Haruno."
I immediately shook my head.
"No," I muttered. "Way too boring. He's going to fall asleep while listening to me."
The chicken on my head, Momo, clucked loudly, like she agreed.
Maybe I should add a cartwheel…
I squeezed the fabric of my worn dress in my hands, lips pressed together as I sat stiffly on the expensive leather seat of the car Mr. Darcy had called a limousine. The leather was smooth and cold beneath my fingers, the kind that smelled faintly of polish and money. Everything inside the car gleamed; dark wood panels, tiny golden details, soft lights hidden in the ceiling like fake stars.
The car was long.
Unnaturally long.
I glanced forward, then backward, then forward again.
How could a car need this much space? What were they transporting, royalty? Livestock? A small army?
All my life, transportation meant farm tractors, old trucks that rattled like they were about to fall apart, and bicycles that squeaked in protest. This felt less like a car and more like a moving living room.
I shifted nervously and glanced at the elegant lady sitting beside me.
She looked like she had stepped straight out of a magazine that only rich people were allowed to read.
Her blonde hair was styled perfectly, not a strand out of place, falling smoothly just past her shoulders like it belonged there. Her eyes were a calm, sharp green, the kind that noticed everything without ever staring. Her dress hugged her figure in a way that whispered expensive rather than screamed it, dark fabric tailored flawlessly, simple but powerful. Her face was beautiful in a quiet, ageless way; soft lines, high cheekbones, skin untouched by stress or time.
If she had ever been young, she had been terrifyingly stunning.
If she was older now, she wore it like a crown.
My mother-in-law.
Mrs. Darcy von Richter.
Mother of my husband:
Emil Matthias von Richter.
I squealed internally. Even his name sounds expensive.
I swallowed and lifted Momo off my head, hugging her against my chest as excitement fizzed through me.
If Emil looks anything like this goddess sitting next to me, then I am already happier than ever.
Just then, I felt her gaze settle on me.
I panicked.
Then immediately cleared my throat and copied her posture: legs crossed gracefully, back straight, chin lifted. I placed Momo carefully on my thighs. She clucked once, offended, but settled.
Mrs. Darcy's lips curved into the smallest, most composed smile.
"Good," she whispered.
My chest puffed with pride.
I turned my head toward the window and froze.
Switzerland passed by like a different world.
We were in Zurich, Mrs. Darcy had told me earlier.
The streets were clean, too clean. People walked briskly along the sidewalks, all of them dressed neatly, coats tailored, shoes polished, faces focused. Everyone looked busy, important, like they were heading somewhere that mattered.
No one shouted. No one lingered. No one laughed too loudly.
Compared to Nagano Fields back in Japan; where mornings smelled like soil and animals and people waved just to wave, this place felt sharp and fast and intimidating.
My stomach fluttered.
I felt excited.
And terrified.
I was really here. About to meet my husband. In a country I'd only ever seen in old newspapers.
I smiled without realizing it and turned to Mrs. Darcy.
"Mrs. Darcy," I said softly, "so… what's Emil like? Is he tall? Taller than me? Or cheerful like me, maybe?"
She laughed at the last part.
Not mocking. Not cruel.
Her laughter sounded rich and polished, like it belonged in concert halls.
"Cheerful," she repeated, amused. "No. That is not a word I'd use to describe him."
She laughed again and added calmly, "He's quite the opposite."
She gave me a knowing glance. I was about to ask what she meant when the car slowed. Something massive appeared ahead.
A gate.
Golden. Tall. Beautiful and intimidating all at once.
My jaw dropped.
Were we… was this my new home?
The car stopped, and the gate slowly opened as if answering my question.
Yes.
Inside, a stone wall curved around a wide driveway. At its center stood a statue of a creature I had never seen before; half beast, half myth, water shooting powerfully from its mouth. For a moment, I almost thought it was alive.
The grass around it was impossibly green, trimmed so perfectly it looked like a rug. The ground beneath us was tiled, smooth and pale.
Then I saw it.
The mansion.
White. Massive. Towering.
My breath caught as I pressed my face against the window.
"Wow," I whispered.
The air smelled clean, like stone, water, and something faintly floral. Everything felt unreal, like I'd stepped into someone else's dream.
Momo stood up on my thighs and fluttered onto my shoulder, peering out the window beside me as if she, too, needed to see what had stolen my breath.
The car stopped.
The driver stepped out and opened Mrs. Darcy's door. I climbed out as well, the cool Swiss wind brushing against my skin and ruffling my curly brown hair. I held Momo close to my chest as my heart tightened, was it joy? Excitement? Fear?
I wasn't sure.
All I knew was that my husband's home was breathtaking.
A wide white staircase stretched before us.
Mrs. Darcy stepped beside me and leaned close, her voice soft.
"Welcome," she said, "to your new home."