At that time, Tenetta had been fiercely jealous, just as she wanted—and in the process, he had forced a few insolent young men into early retirement for good.

Isabelle had openly despised him for it.

“You’re such a nuisance.”

“And you’re a bother.”

Tenetta snapped back irritably.

That very morning, he had broken the leg of a young man who claimed to love his wife. Even after losing the duel, the young man had insisted that his feelings were genuine.

Although she knew it was just a game she played for fun, Tenetta felt as if he were going mad with irritation.

If he hadn’t been so sure that Isabelle loved him, he might have beheaded every young man in the capital.

“I’m not joking. How is it that a man can turn into an idiot after exchanging just a few words with you? Why don’t you teach your husband that skill? It’d be useful when capturing prisoners in war.”

He didn’t need to emphasize it himself — Tenetta was an exceptionally difficult opponent. In all his years of battle experience, he had never left the slightest doubt in any duel; he won them all decisively.

And yet, after meeting Isabelle only once or twice, young men from the capital would challenge him to duels. Unless they were foolish enough not to calculate their chances or delusional enough to believe that miracles favored them, it was no easy thing to do.

Isabelle frowned faintly.

“That bad?”

“You wouldn’t know if you were sleeping in a warm bed until late, but these days, lunatics have been roaming Rosina since dawn.”

‘Which makes it only natural that I want to keep you tied to the bed.’

Tenetta justified the desire he had yet to voice.

Curiosity flickered in Isabelle’s eyes.

“How insane are they?”

“You’re really curious about that?”

Holding back a sigh, Tenetta chose words that wouldn’t outright insult her and spoke with a hint of mockery.

“Those deranged fools act as if you’re a maiden caught in a dragon’s claws and they’re righteous knights. You’re already married—and your husband is very much alive and watching.”

Isabelle let out a brief laugh before replying,

“They probably know that too.”

“D*mn right they do.”

They knew perfectly well that Isabelle was a married woman and that he was her husband.

That was precisely why they challenged him to a duel.

Leaning casually against the bedpost, Tenetta folded his arms.

Isabelle sat before the vanity, idly swinging one leg as she gazed into the mirror. Reflected in the mirror was her bare face, untouched by adornment. It was a face she showed only to him, along with her bluntness and unrestrained whims.

That kind of vulnerability was Isabelle’s way of showing love.

Tenetta knew it. And that was why he could never let her go.

If not him, who else could accept her completely?

And if not her, who else could he ever love so deeply?

“It’s not even a technique. You just… don’t give them anything.”

Returning to the earlier topic, Isabelle opened the vanity unit drawer and answered his question. Even now, her clear green eyes, seemingly innocent at first glance, searched through its contents.

Tenetta scoffed briefly and walked over to the bedside table.

He picked up the silk ribbon that Isabelle had carelessly dropped beside the bed the previous night, then stepped behind her.

“You should take better care of your things,” he muttered, tying back her thick, jet-black hair with the dark green ribbon. “Or just consider it lost and use something else.”

This was already the third time that week he had found her hair tie for her.

“But this one suits me best.”

Grumbling softly, Isabelle adjusted the hair he had tied and shook her head.

“Anyway, when it comes to dealing with men…”

“For now, you give them nothing—yet make them believe that, under different circumstances, they could have everything.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it. You just leave them like that.”

Isabelle met his gaze in the mirror, giving a slight, playful scrunch of her nose.

It was an arrogant expression that didn’t quite match her cute appearance, but Tenetta didn’t deny it. He already knew that women often understood men better than men understood women.

He also knew that the question he was about to ask would seem ridiculous to her.

However, if men could always choose the right words in front of the women they loved, the term ‘lover’s quarrel’ would never have been needed.

Ultimately, Tenetta couldn’t hide his irritation as he asked,

“Did you train me the same way?”

“And if I did?”

Isabelle shot back sharply and turned around quickly.

Her green eyes instantly turned cold.

Even her bare, unguarded face seemed distant and indifferent.

Tenetta hesitated, knowing that Isabelle was merely being spiteful towards him because he had been irritable that morning. Although it had all started because of her, Isabelle was shameless enough to act that way.

It was then that she broke into a soft, melting laugh.

Pulling one knee up beneath her chin and wrapping her arms around it, she looked up at him.

“But you still love me, don’t you?”

The deep green velvet women’s robe, embroidered with gold thread, had slipped down. One of her bare legs, unrestrained by undergarments, was dangerously exposed. Against the dark fabric, her pale, unblemished skin looked strikingly alluring.

Despite knowing it was a transparent trick, his blood rushed through him. The reaction was so immediate that it was almost instinctive.

With a low groan, Tenetta seized her and lifted her up.

“On the stupidity of every lunatic crippled by sacred duels—yes.”

Isabelle laughed softly and slipped her arms around his neck. The disdain she had initially displayed had been an act; she had only wanted to amuse herself.

Tenetta buried his face in her soft, pale arm and took a deep breath. Her scent was sweet — almost dangerously so — and stirred something deeper within him.

He lifted her with ease, carrying her to the bed and laying her down. Then he leaned over her. His shadow fell across her body.

Swallowing quietly, Isabelle reached out to him. A faint flush warmed her cheeks as she looked up at him, her gaze bright and unmistakably inviting.

“I love you too.”

Tenetta caught her slender fingers—lightly tapping against his cheek—and pressed a firm kiss to their tips. Gripping her hips without hiding his possessiveness, he spoke in a low, heated warning, driven by instinct.

“You’d better keep doing that. It’s the only reason I tolerate all those bastards throwing down their gloves in challenge.”

What had Isabelle said that day?

As Tenetta retraced the memory, his brows drew together slightly.

Had she given him a clear answer? Or had she simply laughed it off?

Either way, he felt as though she had nodded, but he couldn’t quite remember.

Cender’s rough voice pulled his attention back to the present.

“Not a single one of those Dawn bastards in sight. Acting all refined, yet they’ve got no manners…”

“They’re not brave enough to show up uninvited, so it’s understandable.”

“You didn’t send them invitations?”

Instead of answering outright, Tenetta gave a silent affirmation. Catching on immediately, Cender let out a small exclamation.

“The vice-captain must’ve had quite the headache.”

Of all the Knights of Twilight, only Aaron kept in touch with the Knights of Dawn. Whenever a Knight of Twilight treated a Knight of Dawn unfairly, letters would soon arrive at Aaron’s office.

In high society, failing to invite someone to a wedding was an overt act of exclusion. As all of the Knights of Dawn were of noble birth, they would undoubtedly take this as an insult.

Tenetta placed his empty glass on the tray of an attendant passing by.

“I’m sure he did. I just hope Aaron doesn’t go bald too early.”

“Losing your hair really does change a man’s impression.”

“Exactly.”

During one of his many duels, when countless challengers had competed for his position, Tenetta had started shaving the heads of his defeated opponents. He had grown weary of the fools who refused to accept defeat — not to mention those who suggested eloping with Isabelle in the dead of night.

After leaving a trail of bald knights and sending them to monasteries, Tenetta finally issued a warning: anyone who came near his wife again would have their spine broken, leaving them unable to stand as a man.

Unaware of just how many promising knights he had driven into exile, Cender merely laughed.

“And you’re the one worrying about someone else’s hair?”

Tenetta turned his head.

A young man with thick, wheat-colored hair was approaching them.

Like most people who had approached him that evening, he was carrying two glasses. He handed over the one filled to the brim.

“To the bride’s unfading beauty and health.”

It was a formal toast commonly used by the nobility when offering a drink to the groom.

Before going to war, Aaron had lived as the son of a distinguished family, and traces of that upbringing were still evident in all his movements.

A person’s nature did not change easily.

Tenetta accepted the glass from his adjutant, who still carried himself with an unconscious air of refinement.

“I did you a favor.”

Among those whose heads he had shaved for overstepping their place were members of the Dawn. Nothing would stop the same thing happening again. If it did, Aaron would face far more than a few complaints from those who hadn’t received invitations — there would be a real protest.

Taking it as mockery, perhaps, the crease between Aaron’s brows deepened.

Tenetta watched him, laughing along with Cender, but then suddenly found himself tired of it.

At some point, a stifling sense of boredom had begun to creep in without warning.

He drained the drink that Aaron had offered him in one gulp and spoke.

“I’ll be heading in.”

Aaron and Cender looked slightly taken aback, but neither tried to stop him.