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– We’ll have to postpone the wedding, – Guyon sighed sadly, shoving the last piece of sausage into his mouth and taking a large gulp of brine. – There won’t be your dress. There won’t be rings. There won’t be a cake from Alaria… – He glanced cautiously at Beata, but she maintained a stony expression, – …so we’ll just keep living as an unmarried couple, yay, – he sadly saluted with the jar of brine.
– Guyosh, are you an idiot? – Beata snorted. – What will this wedding give us? An official status – that’s cool, of course. More rights and opportunities and all that. But…
– …and you also said that I could officially list my marital status as “slave” when we get married, – Guyon giggled into the jar.
– I’ll hit you right now, Guyosh, – she smirked.
– Heh, and you smiled for the first time this evening.
– Because you’re a jerk. You know how to cheer me up, – Beata smiled shyly, lowering her gaze.
– Glad to be of service, my lady, – he smirked in response.
– …that’s what I was leading up to – we’re closer to each other than husband and wife, even without a wedding.
– …but I’m still not sure if I should introduce you as my lady, and you introduce me as your…
– Just as yours, – Beata snorted. – Forget it, seriously. That damn curse has been gone for almost a month, it’s time for you to get used to freedom.
– And I have. I felt freer even under the curse when I was with you. Because you’re the best.
– Okay, you convinced me. We’ll order rings from the boss, I’ll make a dress out of a curtain… And I’ll bake a cake, fine.
– Oh no, no, no, you’re not going to bake a cake.
– …?
– Margel has had enough disasters. Or do you want the port district to turn into a crater just like the center?
– Oh, I don’t cook that badly.
– Okay, okay. By the way, there are many different no-bake cakes. Tiramisu, cheesecake, just take cookies and spread them with condensed milk…
– Guyosh, Guyosh…