Conscientiously, he couldn’t say it was because she was causing a disturbance. Celian was quieter than any other servant. She was just like a ghost.

Then it would be correct to judge that the reason for his sensitivity was due to inner turmoil rather than external commotion.

Izer closed his eyes again. Perhaps he could fall into a light sleep.

In his dream, he was in Celian’s bedroom. With his face buried in her crotch, he pinned down the moaning woman’s hands, rendering her immobile, and observed her reactions.

「Ah, Izer, stop, stop…!」

Her words were an absolute command that he had to obey. The man lifted his face that had been buried and climbed on top of the woman, overlapping their bodies.

The next step was f*cking. Every time Celian received his member, she would open her eyes wide and show an overwhelmed expression. Then Izer would deliberately thrust his c*ck as deep and roughly as possible into her lower part.

He was Celian’s slave. A disposable lover. He should only exist as a m*sturbation tool that moves purely physically, without emotions. That was all he should be to Celian.

That was the only way their relationship could continue.

Izer lowered his head and bit the woman’s neck. He was accustomed to controlling his strength. Right now — of course, in the dream — there would be teeth marks, but they would disappear without a trace in a few hours.

The thoroughly wet v*gina smoothly sucked in his p*nis. It took quite a lot of movement to pull out with just the tip of the gl*ns barely caught and then thrust back in.

It was now a familiar act. He hid his emotions rising with excitement and spurred on the movement of his hips before ej*culating.

The man glared at the woman’s face, feeling his s*men flowing into her.

Celian’s face was full of ecstasy. Izer couldn’t understand her at all, being happy looking at a young man who was only satisfying his own desires with a distorted expression.

The bedroom surrounding them collapsed. But Celian’s expression looking up at Izer was still happy.

That’s when Izer realized. Though he thought he was wearing a face full of contempt, the expression that woman was seeing now was infinitely affectionate.

Everything around them shattered to pieces, leaving only the n*ked woman and man.

Amidst the destroyed debris, the woman reached out to him.

“Izer, I love you.”

The sentence ending with a period was a command.

At the same time, it was God’s assertion announcing his end.

* * *

To commoners, the Chesterfield ducal mansion was a dream workplace. Ample salary, pleasant working environment, and even kind masters.

In fact, the servants working in the ducal mansion were generally satisfied with their positions. There were only a few things that made them mentally uncomfortable. For example, the young Duchess’s gloomy face, the cold air circulating between the Duke and the Young Duke.

Every family had one or two internal issues, and it was not within the servants’ scope to interfere. They were reluctant to gossip about the private lives of those they served. After all, there were more than enough people who wanted to work at the ducal mansion even if it wasn’t them.

Marsha was no exception. This year marked her thirtieth year working at the ducal mansion. Marsha, whose main duty was laundry, usually worked in the backyard where the water was connected.

She, who was hanging white sheets on the clothesline, turned her head at the sound of footsteps. The newly arrived young tutor, clutching something in her hand, was lingering around before making eye contact and approaching cautiously.

“Is that you, Miss Berienne? Do you need something?”

“Marsha, I’m not yet free to go out. How should I send a letter outside the mansion?”

A tutor was required to behave even more carefully than other maids. She had to be with the noble child she was taking care of at all times except when they were sleeping, and if she went out at night, she would often be criticized for being indiscreet.

For Celian, who hadn’t been at the ducal mansion for long, she needed Renéee’s permission to go out. But it wasn’t easy to meet Renéee, who spent most of her day lying in bed.

If not Renéee, there was also the option of getting Izer’s permission, but Celian wanted to minimize encounters with Izer as much as possible.

Fortunately, Marsha didn’t pry into the matter.

“Want to contact your sister, I reckon? Every morning at 9, a boy who delivers milk comes to this back door. If you can hand over the letter directly, it’s 2 pence, if it needs to go through the post office, it’s 3 pence including postage.”

“Thank you for letting me know, Aunt Marsha.”

Celian turned around with a pretty smile.

It was her tenth day at the ducal mansion. It had been arranged for Owen to take care of Beth for the time being. He even agreed to look into boarding schools for Beth.

She wanted to ask Owen why Izer had become the Young Duke, but it didn’t seem appropriate to write in a letter, so she omitted it.

‘9 AM.’

There were two hours left until the milk delivery boy arrived. Celian mentally calculated her schedule. Percy doesn’t wake up until after 8. Until then, Celian was free.

She thought so until she heard a voice behind her as she was walking lightly across the grass.

“You’re up early.”

It was that man again. Celian slowly turned around and bowed. It was more comfortable to look at the emotionless toe of his shoe than his cool face.

“Good morning, Young Duke.”

Izer spoke to her in a dry tone. His disheveled curly hair sparkled in the morning sunlight.

“Isn’t Percy still sleeping at this time?”

“I need to wake up before the young master does.”

Celian answered as she straightened her back.

Sleeping in was a privilege of the nobles. The lower class, with much to do, was accustomed to moving busily from early morning.

“Well, habits formed from waking up early aren’t easily broken. Look at me, still like this.”

“……”

The man’s eyes scanned the envelope the woman was holding.

“Trying to send a letter?”

“Yes, to my sister.”

“Ah, your sister. She must have grown a lot. How old is she?”

“Eleven years old.”

“With her sister in this house, what’s happening to her?”

“A friend is taking care of her. We’re looking into boarding schools.”

There was no emotion in the man’s voice.

“You still have friends left, Miss Berienne?”

“……”

Celian struggled to control her surging emotions. It was natural for Izer to have such doubts.

And it was true that most people had left her. Except for Owen, just one person.

“Fortunately, I have a friend who can look after my sister. Thank you for your concern.”

“A woman?”

“Personal questions are……”

“So it’s a man. You said you’re not married, but it seems you have someone to marry.”

Celian raised her head abruptly. She might have unknowingly raised her voice a little too.

“That friend and I are not the kind of relationship you’re thinking of, Young Duke.”

Modesty is an essential virtue for a tutor. And to Owen, the Chesterfield ducal family was one of his important patients. There was nothing good about Izer knowing about her relationship with Owen.

Izer tilted his head slightly.

“That’s what you think. We both know well.”

“……”

“That the relationship between a man and a woman is defined by those in high positions.”