Suddenly, an angry roar reverberated throughout the restaurant.
Irritated, I glanced toward the source of the noise and saw two men grabbing each other by the collar. A woman stood beside them, sobbing pathetically.
"Meriana’s my girl! You’ve got some nerve laying a hand on her!"
"Don’t give me that crap! Meriana is my fiancée!"
"Oh, no! Please, stop! Don’t fight over me!"
...A lovers' spat, huh?
It was the kind of quarrel where the general situation became clear after only a few words. It seemed these men were fighting over a single woman, but my eyes weren't so easily fooled.
The woman at the heart of the storm was putting on a show of tears, but her lips were curled into a smirk. She was clearly intoxicated by the drama, relishing the sight of men brawling over her.
"Rest, what are those people doing?" Viola asked.
"Ah... they're just fighting over a woman. It happens all the time."
"All the time? But... I thought relationships were things decided between families. Isn't it strange for them to fight like that?"
Viola’s eyes were wide with surprise. For a noble, courtship was a contract brokered between parents and houses. While love marriages weren't entirely non-existent among the lower nobility, it was exceptionally rare for high-ranking royals or nobles to choose their own partners.
"Commoners almost never deal with political marriages," I explained. "They don't care about mutual interests or the prosperity of their houses; they just unite with the person they fall in love with."
"I see... I’d heard stories, but the idea that you can marry anyone just because you love them... it sounds wonderful."
"I wonder about that..."
The term "free love" had a nice ring to it, but watching the scene unfold before us made it hard to agree.
"Whether it’s a marriage of love or politics, I think people can be happy as long as they respect one another."
In truth, I had found happiness through my engagement to the Rosemary sisters. I had been chosen for them because of my talent for magic; I was selected as a matrilocal husband to ensure the continued prosperity of the Marquis Rosemary House, a prestigious magical lineage. If I hadn't possessed any talent for magic, the Marquis and his wife would likely have refused to acknowledge our engagement, regardless of how much the sisters might have loved me.
"You're right," Viola said with a smile. She reached across the table and took my hand. "I feel the same way."
Even marriages born of love can end in divorce or heartbreak, just as political or arranged marriages can lead to genuine happiness. What truly mattered was the capacity to care for one's partner. I felt that truth deeply in that moment.
We sat there in the middle of a rowdy, shouting tavern, enveloped in a warm, peaceful atmosphere—until the mood was abruptly shattered.
"You bastard... die!"
The argument finally escalated into physical violence. One of the men grabbed a liquor bottle from a table and hurled it; the other scrambled to dodge.
"Look out!"
"Kya!"
The bottle missed its intended target and came sailing straight for our table. I stood up in a flash and snatched the bottle out of the air with my free hand.
"That was close..."
"Thank you, Rest. You saved me."
"...Yeah. Hold on a second."
I let go of Viola’s hand and turned toward the men.
"You... piece of shit!"
"Guh... take that!"
The men were still brawling, not even casting a glance in our direction. They hadn't even noticed that their bottle had nearly struck Viola.
"...Didn't your parents ever teach you how to apologize?"
If that was the case, then I’d have to teach them a lesson in their place. Gripping the bottle, I started walking toward them to give them the scolding they deserved.