Fendrick returned to his bedroom. On the bed lay Katarina, fast asleep, utterly exhausted from bearing his desire.

He lay beside her on his side, gently brushing his fingers through her red hair as he thought:

‘Whether Loretta has a lover or not… I couldn’t care less.’

He had barely any time or attention for the woman in front of him.

Whether his fiancée had fallen for someone else or had left to be with someone more suitable, it didn’t matter to him.

Katarina’s sleeping face was peaceful.

The reddened corners of her eyes looked pitiful yet precious.

He remembered the smiles of happiness she had shown that day: the awe on her face when she stepped into the Imperial Library, her small hand tightening around his in the marketplace, and the way the ice cream melted on her lips.

Because of that, their lovemaking that night was long and relentless. But even after taking her like that, the drug he used to suppress his urges left him completely unsatisfied.

Lying beside her, he was still aroused and desperate to make her cry beneath him again.

‘If I wake her now, she’ll grumble in the morning, saying she still has work to do.’

Yet by dawn, she would rise like a ghost, return to her room, change into her neat maid’s uniform and return as if nothing had happened.

Fendrick didn’t want to keep Katarina as a maid forever. But she had been the one to refuse his offer.

When he suggested that she move into the room next door, she reacted as though it were a horrifying suggestion.

‘Asking to return to the maids’ quarters? When you came here to bear my child, isn’t that too much?
You act like you’ll enjoy this just a few times and then toss me aside.’

Part of him wanted to drag her straight into his bedroom and keep her there. If she needed to go out, he could simply accompany her himself.

‘But Katarina… the fact that you’re my maid is something I like as well.’

She existed solely for him. She followed him everywhere, tending to his every need and thinking only of him. Every aspect of his daily routine was handled by her: from dressing him, to preparing his tea, to making his bed.

Fendrick liked watching Katarina when she was absorbed in something she enjoyed. But he enjoyed watching her focus entirely on him just as much. Even if she did it out of duty.

That was why he’d let her remain by his side for so long. He was simply waiting for her to grow used to him.

‘It’s about time she stopped being a maid.’

Fendrick pressed his lips gently to the sleeping girl’s forehead.

***

“What… did you just say?”

Even after hearing it, Markus asked again, as though he couldn’t believe it. Fendrick answered lazily.

“I said find someone who can give Katarina a respectable noble identity. Someone who can attach a ‘von’ to her name.”

“You mean… someone who could serve as her adoptive parents?”

“It’s fine if they’re real, but even better if they aren’t. If Katarina has nowhere to return to, she’ll stay by my side.”

She had lived in a convent her entire life, and now that she was an adult, she could never return there unless she became a nun. At most, she could visit briefly to pray.

In that case, he could simply become the place she returned to.

“We could even adopt her under the name of someone already dead.”

Markus let out a pained groan and pressed a hand to his forehead.

“Normally, in cases like this, one would arrange a nominal husband for her to marry…”

“Absolutely not. I’m not letting her leave this estate.”

“Then what do you intend to do about Lady Pescar? As I said before, I’m against breaking the engagement.”

“You were the one who suggested keeping her as a marquis’s wife in name only. I’m agreeing to that—so why object now?”

Markus shook his head.

He had meant it as advice to keep a mistress lightly, not to keep her at his side like this, not to prepare an entire life for her.

‘He’s awfully sentimental… must be because she’s his first woman. It won’t last anyway.’

Markus inwardly regretted not having pushed Fendrick to take a woman at sixteen or seventeen. But back then, Fendrick spent every spare moment throwing himself into war on the front lines—there had been no chance.

“Understood. I’ll find someone.”

Granting a maid the status of a minor noble was hardly difficult. It wouldn’t tarnish the Lorhast name, so Markus nodded obediently.

But Fendrick was already thinking far beyond that.

“Once her identity is settled, next is property.”

“…Property, sir?”

“You said it yourself. I’m no different from an ordinary man. I’ve got ten years at best. She’ll need wealth that Lady Pescar—or her future adoptive parents—can’t seize after I’m gone.”

Markus’ jaw dropped, but no words came out.

“I’m planning to transfer a few of my private villas into Katarina’s name. Rest easy—they’re not family property.”

Fendrick gave a lopsided smile and patted Markus on the shoulder.

***

Katarina slipped a piece of bread and some cheese into her apron pocket before heading to the archives.

She wanted to revisit the notes she had copied from the Imperial Library and compare them with the records stored there.

She pulled out several books, but she couldn’t focus on any of them.

Her mind kept drifting back to Fendrick.

‘Once I run away… he’ll find other women, won’t he.’

Fendrick was treating Katarina well for the time being, but that would only be temporary. His lifespan was short and, since he found it so difficult to conceive, he would eventually follow in the footsteps of his ancestors, who had many partners.

Fendrick would soon do the same.

That is, until one of them conceived.

Would he treat those women kindly, too?

Would he smile at them with that irresistible charm?

Would he offer to play coachman just to please them?

‘…I hate it.’

The thought of Fendrick smiling at or holding another woman made her skin crawl.

But even if she remained in this mansion, it wouldn’t make a difference.

Firstly, there was Loretta, who would become the Marchioness the following year.

If Katarina failed to conceive, it wouldn’t be long before Fendrick looked elsewhere for a child.

Then…

Then there was…

Katarina squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head violently.

“Ah! What am I even thinking!”

Hadn’t she been brought here under threat of having to raise another woman’s child?

Even Fendrick thought she was sleeping with him just to get pregnant.

In such circumstances, love was a luxury and an obstacle.

Nevertheless, no matter how hard she tried to stop them, her thoughts kept drifting towards Fendrick.

“Hasn’t there been a single man in this family who only ever loved one spouse? How many women did the others go through…?”

Driven by foolish hope and useless curiosity, she dragged out every record of House Lorhast she could find and began examining them.

‘As if they’d record how many mistresses they had…’

Surprisingly, however, she found some notes.

They were neither detailed nor complete, but there were scattered passages describing various lovers.

One entry in particular caught her attention.

It said that the 10th Marquis had slept with an unusually large number of women and changed them frequently.

He had fathered his heir with a woman who was not his wife, and the moment the child was born, he left the baby with the marchioness while he went back to chasing other women.

The marchioness was furious and returned to her own family, leaving the child to be mostly raised by a vassal house — the Barons of Halden.

“At that rate, the whole ‘I need an heir’ excuse is just nonsense.”

Katarina frowned as she turned the page.

There were also records about the mistress of the eighth Marquis, who had lived an unusually long time for a Lorhast.

This Marchioness had borne two children, both by her lawful husband.

True to the Lorhast name, she had taken several male lovers, but unlike the other marquises, she hadn’t discarded them frequently — she had merely enjoyed their company in moderation.

This unusually small number of lovers was so remarkable that it had been recorded.

‘What about the other female marquises?’

Unfortunately, there was almost no mention of the lovers of the 11th Marquis, who had died at thirty-two. Only speculation that the child she bore likely hadn’t been her husband’s.

‘She married at seventeen… but didn’t have a child until twenty-eight? That means she must have gone through quite a number of men, doesn’t it?’

A ridiculous thought suddenly crossed her mind.

‘What if the more partners they have, the shorter their lifespan becomes?’

She actually forgot to breathe for a moment.

Then, the next moment, she burst out laughing.

“Haha… that’s absurd. What am I even thinking? There’s no way…”

But even after laughing like that, the idea wouldn’t leave her. Instead, it grew—branching out in one thought after another.

‘They say the Lorhasts are descendants of the Schneeberg wolves, the Nachjäger. And Schneeberg wolves only ever take one mate in their entire lifetime, right? What if they incurred the wrath of a god by rejecting the instinct written in their blood? Northern tribes used to worship local gods, not the almighty Erios…’

She began searching for records about the old northern deities that had nearly disappeared three hundred years ago but then shut the book with a sharp slap.

“Just great. I loved myths and old tales so much that now I’m trying to turn reality into a myth. I really must be losing my mind.”

Right—no matter what she searched for, it wouldn’t change the reality before her.

Before she knew it, lunchtime was nearly over. She quickly tidied the books before Fendrick could come looking for her in the archives.