Chapter 2

"I…"

Emory Belen hesitated as he faced the wheelchair-bound woman before him—Cora Madison, whose beauty and grace outshone even Scarlet's. For a moment, he nearly refused.

Then he remembered Wilson's words: "You must marry a Madison woman."

Steeling himself, Emory asked, "You're a Madison?"

"Yes. Cora Madison. Pleasure to meet you." She smiled, sweet as spring water, fragrant as wildflowers. The warmth in her gaze left Emory momentarily spellbound.

"Then I'll marry you," he declared.

"Perfect!" Scarlet clapped her hands, her voice dripping with triumph. "Let's get you two to the city hall before this backwater nobody changes his mind!"

Without waiting for objections, she ushered Emory and Cora out of the Madison estate.

After they left, one of the Madison family members turned to Madeline, who was seated at the head, and said, "Mom, are you seriously letting Cora marry that man? Even if she's disabled, she's still a Madison. We could've used her for a political alliance—like with the Langdon family's… special heir."

"Exactly. Doesn't the fool from the Langdon family have feelings for Cora? If we—"

"Enough," Madeline interrupted, pressing a finger to her brow. "This ends Emory's claim on Scarlet. A cripple's sacrifice for our golden girl's future? A worthy trade."

At her words, the Madison family members exchanged glances. No one spoke further.

…

Half an hour later, at Goldspire City's city hall, a clerk handed Scarlet the documents.

"Miss Scarlet, the marriage license is processed."

"Thanks." Scarlet tossed over a wad of cash and finally let out a breath.

"Emory, now that you've married Cora, just focus on building a good life with Cora. A peasant should know their place. I'm out of your league. You think some small-town nobody like you could ever land me? Don’t kid yourself."

Just then, her phone rang.

"Yes, Grandma. They've registered their marriage. Understood. I'll bring them over right away."

Hanging up, she snapped at Cora, "The family's hosting Master Quentin tonight. Be there."

"Master Quentin?" Emory asked.

"The only Grandmaster in Goldspire," Scarlet sneered. "Stay silent around him, hillbilly. Your kind shouldn't speak to legends."

…

When Emory returned to the Madison estate, the estate was buzzing with elite guests.

A relative eyed Emory's black pouch. "What's that?"

"It's a specialty from the Vale of Cameron—red truffles. It's a gift from my master for my first visit here."

Emory offered it to Madeline. "But now that I'm married to Cora, I suppose… Consider it my bride price."

Inside the pouch were twenty red truffles.

On the international auction circuit, each truffle could fetch 300 to 400 thousand dollars—and even then, they were hard to come by. Twenty truffles meant a rough value of seven million. It was by no means a modest gift.

Yet Scarlet burst out laughing. "Emory, do you really have to try this hard to look impressive? Mushrooms are still mushrooms—don't try to pass them off as something fancy.

"I've heard of white truffles and black truffles, but red truffles? Did you make that up? If you can't afford a proper gift, maybe just don't give one. Don't pretend to be something you're not."

She folded her arms, scoffing. "Thank goodness I didn't marry you. If word got out that my bride price was a sack of moldy mushrooms, I'd never be able to hold my head up again."

Emory opened his mouth to explain that red truffles were known for their longevity properties.

But before he could speak, Madeline casually passed the pouch to one of the servants. "I heard Master Quentin has a fondness for wild vegetables. This works out. Take Emory's gift and make some chicken and mushroom stew."

"Yes, Madam," the servant answered, bowing before walking off with the truffles.

Emory was left speechless.

Then, quietly, Cora slipped her fingers into his and said, "Emory, I really like your gift. Thank you."

She said it for his sake—so he wouldn't feel ashamed.

Just then, a murmur came from the entrance of the estate.

Moments later, a woman in a fitted office suit entered.

"Yvette, you're here alone? Where's Master Quentin?" Madeline asked as she spotted Master Quentin's personal assistant.

"Madeline, Master Quentin was called away for something urgent. He'll be joining us later. He said to go ahead and start the meal," Yvette Dole replied with a polite smile.

"Something urgent?"

Madeline blinked.

"The High Commissioner summoned him," Yvette said casually.

At the mention of "the High Commissioner," Madeline instantly dropped the matter.

Soon, the servants began serving the dishes.

There were mountain delicacies, lobster, king crab—dishes from all across the country, with a particular emphasis on cuisine from Sacholles. It could have passed for a royal feast.

But when Emory saw the red truffles he'd brought being boiled in soup with wild chicken, he couldn't help but shake his head.

God, what a waste.

Red truffles were best eaten raw to preserve their flavor. In stew, their taste fell flat.

Scarlet caught his grimace and smirked. "Oh, don't tell me the mountain boy's heartbroken over a few rotten mushrooms? Christ, Emory, is your backwater village so starved for luxury that you think mushrooms are a delicacy?"

She narrowed her eyes. "Tell you what—tomorrow, I'll buy you a truckload of portobellos from Whole Foods. On me."

Madeline shot her a warning glare. "Scarlet. We have guests," Madeline snapped, then turned to Yvette with a smile. "Yvette, these are wild mushrooms my grandson-in-law brought from the mountains. Do give them a try."

"No thanks. I'm not really a fan of mushrooms," Yvette replied, smiling.

Scarlet, however, had already taken a bite of the red truffle. She immediately spat it out. "Ugh! What the hell is this? No wonder people say only weirdos come out of backwoods villages. Anyone who grows up eating this crap can't possibly turn out normal."

"You've gone too far," Cora said, frowning. "Emory brought those as a gift. You could at least pretend to be civil."

"Civil? Please." Scarlet scoffed. "You've got to be kidding me. This stuff is barely edible."

She tossed her fork down and dumped the rest of her red truffle into the trash. "Not even dogs would eat this. Whoever wants it can have it."

"You—!"

Cora bit back her anger. "Fine. If you won't eat it, I will."

She picked up one of the truffles and put it in her mouth.

It was dry. The texture was nothing like an ordinary mushroom. Not quite unpleasant, but far from delicious. It was chewy and bland.

Soon, she had eaten nineteen of the twenty red truffles—the only one untouched was the one Scarlet had thrown away.

"Tsk, tsk. You really finished them all?" Scarlet jeered. "No wonder you and Emory are a match. Makes perfect sense."

Around the table, some of the Madison family members stifled laughter.

And just then—

The dining room doors swung open.

Grandmaster Quentin strode in, his tailored white suit immaculate, a Patek Philippe glinting at his wrist.

"Master Quentin, you finally made it," Madeline exclaimed as she rushed forward, all smiles. "It's such an honor to have you here."

"Master Quentin."

"Master Quentin, welcome."

Scarlet and the others greeted him with reverence. After all, getting in good with a Grandmaster like Quentin Kale meant skipping thirty years of hard work.

Quentin waved off the flattery. "Apologies for my delay. High Commissioner Brady required an urgent meeting."

"Of course, of course. The High Commissioner's matters come first. We understand," Madeline said, eager to please. "Please, Master Quentin, take a seat. I'll have the kitchen prepare a fresh table for you."

"No need, I'll just eat a little. I've got other business to attend to later."

As he spoke, his eyes swept across the room—and happened to land on the trash can by the table.

He suddenly froze.