“What’s your name?”

“Ah! Ahh! Eu, Eurene! Eurene Eifel!”

“Eifel? A count’s family?”

“Yes! Yes! Aaah!”

The pleasure was so intense that tears came to her eyes. Between sobs, she realized she didn’t even know his name. Blushing and whimpering, she asked. And you? Who are you? The strange man twisted his lips strangely.

Me?

Eurene reached climax, her body trembling as his p*nis thrust up hard into her. He watched her completely, then withdrew and rubbed himself against her navel. White s*men splashed abundantly on her pale body. Waist, br*asts, face, hair. Wiping the white fluid from her lips with his thumb, the man smiled languidly.

Behind him, dawn was breaking.

Golden blonde hair, dark reddish eyes deeper than even the dawn could penetrate. A face resembling an unnamed wildflower blooming at night.

“The man who will continue doing this with you.”

* * *

Eurene opened her eyes but stared blankly at the bedside where morning sunlight streamed in.

She couldn’t even move a finger, and her head felt limp like thoroughly unraveled yarn. An overwhelming fatigue, the languid and satisfied elasticity that comes after s*x, and a tiny bud of guilt sprouting from the depths floated like an early morning mist. In truth, even that fingernail-sized sense of guilt stemmed less from sleeping with a married man and more from feeling sorry for her friend Rona, whom she’d be having brunch with in two or three hours—which, considering the premise, might make her a terrible woman.

In her defense, Duke Van Carca felt unreal, like someone from another world. As mentioned before, Eurene knew her place well. A scandal between an unremarkable lady of a count’s family and the emperor’s favorite courtier, the Empire’s most popular bachelor, Duke Carca? The very premise was detached from reality.

Eurene was an ordinary—even somewhat lacking—woman who, until she turned twenty, hadn’t even held a man’s hand, let alone received marriage proposals, and hadn’t attracted proper advances from men at social gatherings. So she couldn’t help feeling bewildered. Even now, nearly half a year after their passionate first meeting.

Despite having passionate s*x yesterday that started in his office and continued on the sofa, floor, and finally the bedroom, it’s a bit funny, but if asked whether she loved Van—she’d find it hard to answer.

Of course, s*x with him was always good. The sensible and witty Duke Carca was sufficiently splendid, stylish, and charming, and their time together was enjoyable. Though she occasionally tried to withdraw passively due to the risk, she had never actually rejected him—in Eurene’s daily life, nothing was as stimulating and thrilling as Van.

To Eurene, Van was exactly this: a man thoroughly detached even while physically attached. Like a shooting star or bolt of lightning suddenly appearing before her. Like having s*x with an actor from a theater stage she’d always glimpsed in passing.

Perhaps an ordinary woman would be hurt and exhausted by this empty disconnect and try to end this twisted relationship somehow—through a breakup, demands of divorce, obsessive hysteria, and so on—but Eurene suffered no psychological or emotional damage. The reason Eurene continued sleeping with Van in secret was simply because she was captivated by the hot s*x and clandestine meetings themselves. Well, it also helped that he was handsome.

Naturally relaxed and sometimes absent-minded yet impulsively doing odd things, she newly reflected on herself, wondering if she had an unknown inclination for danger and thrill. Though she started feeling a bit sorry for Rona, who had a crush on Van, she became incredibly excited when receiving Van’s kisses as he secretly entered her room, almost crossing paths with her friend, and grew aroused by the sensuality of his hand sliding under her skirt while wearing his wedding ring.

Wow, I must be a pervert. I’ve been calling Van a pervert in my mind every day. Eurene pouted, dumbfounded. The phrase “birds of a feather” flashed through her mind, but she deliberately ignored it. No, that’s not it.

“What are you thinking about so intently?”

A soft breath touched her ear, and Eurene hunched her shoulders, whimpering. Not because her ears were sensitive—but because his long fingers were caressing her br*asts. Don’t. When she timidly mumbled this, Van laughed playfully, said he understood, and planted small kisses on her hollow cheeks. Meanwhile, his other hand subtly touched her still-moist private parts. Something heavy pressed against her b*ttocks… ah right, it’s morning. She groaned inwardly. This contrary frog. Says he won’t do it, then does it; tells him not to, and he does it more. Van stroked her flushed face, which showed traces of dissatisfaction, with his index finger. A strange pleasure flashed in his violet eyes.

“You’re really unique.”

“How so?”

“At first glance, you seem surprisingly simple and timid like a young girl, but sometimes I can’t figure you out. Your thoughts seem written all over your face, but your actions bounce around unpredictably.”

“Ralph said that too. That I seem to have no worries or thoughts, but occasionally cause unexpected trouble.”

“Ralph?”

The hand that had been brushing her curly pink hair behind her ear stopped abruptly. Eurene felt a slight “oops” moment. True to the rumors circulating in society, the duke continued his promiscuous lifestyle as a supposed advocate for free love, and that hadn’t seemed to change much even after meeting Eurene. During the first month they met, she had directly witnessed him creating ambiguous atmospheres with other women twice.

Yet contradictorily, he couldn’t stand Eurene seeing other men. Whether it was controlling territorial management or simply a man’s immature pride, she wasn’t sure. She thought it was an odd possessiveness, but since she had neither interest in other men nor the ability to attract them, Eurene obediently followed his wishes. Thinking that if he demanded this “chastity” from all women, it must be quite troublesome.

She hastily responded to his staring gaze, which seemed interrogative. His manhood, rubbing roughly as if angry, felt ominous.

“My brother! Count Eifel!”

“Ah, right. Count Eifel. I apologize. I forgot his name.”

I have so many people whose names I need to remember. Van muttered softly. Since it was true that Duke Carca was busy, Eurene made no particular response. After inheriting his title from his uncle, he was a rare case who quickly gained the emperor’s trust, and it was more accurate to see him as an exceptional talent who appeared like a comet rather than an elite who showed promise from childhood and followed a smooth path. In fact, among the nobles trusted by the emperor, he was considered the most idle.

Due to his brilliant mind and outstanding intuition, he handled tasks assigned to him with ease, but he refused to take on important positions. In this aspect, Eurene, as a kindred spirit, knew well that Van, a safety-oriented hedonist, declined out of dislike for responsibility and inconvenience while pretending to be modest. Yet he accumulated one of the Empire’s top positions and wealth, so that too was a kind of ability. Though a quarter of that wealth came from the vast plains his wife brought as a dowry.

Eurene massaged her languid neck and checked the time. It was about time to leave. She needed to enter the count’s mansion through the back door, change clothes, and keep her appointment with Rona—it was already tight. She turned slightly and mumbled to Van, who was massaging her nape and sucking on her soft earlobe.

“Shouldn’t you leave now that it’s daylight? You’re busy, aren’t you?”

“I’m not busy. I’m the idle duke.”

Van licked Eurene’s small lips. Her eyelashes fluttered like cicada wings, and he tapped her cheeks. “Idle duke”—this was what jealous nobles used behind Duke Carca’s back to mock him. They said he was an opportunist who produced mediocre results just enough to curry favor with the emperor, lived lavishly on his wife’s money, and enjoyed pleasures. Yet the subject himself didn’t seem particularly offended by this assessment.

—I am an opportunist, aren’t I? At least they’re not calling me stupid. It means they think I’m smart.

He seemed to like this “compliment” so much that he often mentioned it publicly as a joke. Each time, it got good reactions as a jest, while those who had gossiped about him appeared as petty individuals. Seeing this behavior that seemed to enjoy attention, Eurene thought again how different they were.

“Aren’t you the one in a hurry to leave?”

Van rested his chin on his hand and spoke while looking into the blue eyes of the woman in his arms. He hit the mark. Her scrunched her nose, avoided his gaze, and rolled her eyes around. She was honest to a fault, terrible at lying. Usually, Van liked Eurene’s transparent simplicity. It was easy, comfortable, and cute. She easily succumbed to pleasure with her sensitive body and didn’t waste energy on complicated emotions like jealousy as other women did. He thoroughly enjoyed her straightforward, childlike gaze and careless personality. As if she was made for him.

But at times like this, it was a bit annoying.

“But I need to take care of this before you go.”

Eurene jumped in surprise as his long hand approached and pulled her waist close. Van’s face had changed subtly, clouded with thick desire. And a bit of spite too. She wanted to shout, I have an appointment! But that would only delay the ending further. They might even end up showering together. Eurene muttered to herself. Just give up, sigh.

She grabbed the bed sheets and suppressed her moans as she felt him deeply intertwining with her again.

* * *