Chapter 8 (Part 4)

“What nonsense! Release these chains at once!”  

The chains attached to his ankles were connected to a heavy iron ball, leaving Count Pablo unable to move far from the wall.  

“If there’s someone behind you, or if there are more captives, now would be a good time to confess.”  

“You think I’ll be intimidated?!”  

“You should be.”  

Roshan’s sharp gaze fell to the small, thick hands that might have dared to touch Therese.  

Shhhk.  

He threw the Shamshir in his hand, and it landed squarely on the back of the Count’s hand.  

Blood and flesh splattered everywhere, filling the air with a metallic stench.  

“Arghhh!”  

As Count Pablo collapsed from the unbearable pain, Roshan smiled faintly.  

“Why should a Pasa like me fear a Caspian noble?”  

Roshan’s deference to Therese wasn’t because of her status.

Especially in situations like this, such considerations were even more meaningless.  

‘The great leader of the Pasa Empire, the Caliph, summons Roshan Jawad.’  

Roshan’s brow furrowed deeply as he recalled the letter he had received not long ago.  

He had already heard rumors about the turmoil in Pasa. A bloody wind had swept through the empire, and many of the Caliph’s sons had died—those half-brothers who had treated him like vermin.  

‘To Roshan Jawad, the Caliph’s son and loyal servant.’  

That was how the letter was phrased.

When they had cast him aside as a useless illegitimate child, they hadn’t cared. But now, they dared to call him their son?  

Yet, Roshan had never been the Caliph’s son—not in any meaningful way.  

He had received nothing from the man, except for that cursed name.  

And because of that single name, he couldn’t entirely turn his back on them.  

‘If you accept, we will formally record your deceased mother as a legitimate wife.’  

Even Roshan barely remembered her name anymore. Swarda.  

The Pasa Empire had offered the name of a woman who had been nothing more than a one-night amusement to the Caliph as a bargaining chip.  

“…Ha.”  

As Roshan crouched in front of Count Pablo, the Count shifted his eyes and struggled in resistance.  

“Stay away! Stay away, you devil!”  

Shhhk.  

Roshan pulled the shamshir from the back of Count Pablo’s hand. Blood gushed from the open wound, and the pain and terror were even worse than before.  

“Arghhh!”  

The Count screamed and collapsed, unconscious. Roshan’s face remained expressionless as he looked down at the man.  

***

True to his word, Duke Richard obediently took his medicine, allowing Therese to prepare for bed without issue.  

“…Ha.”  

Lying side by side on the narrow bed, Therese felt as if her nose was filled with the scent of exhaustion.  

‘It seems I won’t be getting any sleep tonight.’  

Pulling the blanket up to her chin, she stared blankly at the ceiling with wide-open eyes.  

‘I’d really like to know what’s going on in the Duke’s head.’  

If his wound were to worsen, it would be a disaster. He might lose an arm—or worse.  

‘How can he be so carefree?’  

Even without the hunting competition, the responsibilities that came with the name Duke Richard were monumental.  

Yet, it seemed Therese was the only one feeling anxious about the Duke’s injury.  

At that moment, the Duke’s hand moved under the blanket, gently brushing against the back of hers.  

“May I hold your hand?”  

“…What?”  

Asking for permission after already taking action.  

When Therese tried to pull her hand away, he leaned slightly toward her.  

“I wasn’t really asking for permission.”  

“…Ha.”  

She was far too tired to argue with the Duke over something like this.  

‘Holding hands isn’t a big deal. Maybe it’s better to just ignore it.’  

Turning her body away from him, Therese felt the Duke inch closer.  

“Please don’t hate me too much. Visiting your bedroom tonight was unavoidable.”  

“What do you mean by that?”  

“Well, my bedroom was flooded. Someone left the window open on a rainy day. The bed, the floor, the furniture—everything was soaked.”  

Therese had no idea such a thing had happened over the past two weeks.  

“I thought about using a guest room, but that didn’t seem like a good idea.”  

“Why not?”  

“Because, as you said, this isn’t a situation where we can afford to be careless.”  

The Duke parroted the words Therese had once said to him.  

“It’s better for people to think we’re passionately in love, as the rumors say, isn’t it?”  

“Oh, that…”  

Apparently, he had already heard the rumors Sophia had mentioned earlier.  

There was no room to argue.  

If people found out he was injured and receiving treatment, it would cause problems. It was better for them to believe the two had just returned from a honeymoon.  

But to act out a nonsensical romance for such a reason…  

Therese was so dumbfounded that she couldn’t even speak. Meanwhile, the Duke shamelessly continued.  

“Since it wouldn’t make sense for us to use separate bedrooms, we should share one from now on.”  

Moving closer, he whispered. The Duke’s warm breath easily passed through the thin fabric of her chemise.  

“And besides, I can’t fall asleep without you.”  

“…”

If Therese hadn’t been lying with her back to him, he would have seen her flushed face.  

‘I’m sensitive and can’t sleep with someone else next to me.’  

Where had the man who once said those words gone?  

But there was no point in questioning him now.  

‘I swear to Diana, I never said such a thing.’  

That would undoubtedly be his response.  

And, technically, the Duke wasn’t wrong.  

He hadn’t yet said those words in the present.  

When Therese didn’t respond, the Duke held her hand as if it were a cherished object.  

Though it was just a simple touch, Therese had to summon all her strength to keep her breathing steady.  

Much time had passed.

The sound of the Duke’s soft breathing filled the room.  

Now was her chance to shake off his hand.  

‘But I’m too tired.’  

Therese didn’t even have the energy to move a finger.  

Soon, the room was filled with nothing but the sound of their breathing.  

***

From early morning, Georges was running laps around the training ground, his face flushed with exertion.  

“If you keep running like that, you’ll tire yourself out quickly.”  

Despite Thomas’s remark as he kept pace beside him, Georges didn’t respond.  

It wasn’t that he was angry.  

He just felt a little embarrassed to look at Thomas’s face right now.  

Noticing Georges’s serious expression, Thomas asked,  

“Is this still about the issue you mentioned last time? Didn’t that turn out to be a simple misunderstanding and get resolved cleanly?”  

“Are you mocking me right now?”  

To poke at someone’s wounds so casually, even when the answer was obvious…  

Thomas Hammer really didn’t seem to understand the concept of tact.  

Frustrated, Georges stopped running and sat on the steps surrounding the training ground.  

Huff, huff. His breath came in gasps, sweat dripping down the back of his neck from his brown ponytail.  

“If you stop suddenly after running like that, it’ll strain your body.”  

Thomas approached him with concern.  

“Don’t forget, we’re the same age.”  

So, Georges wasn’t interested in hearing nagging as if Thomas were an older brother.  

Annoyed, he shot Thomas a sharp glare, but the man merely shrugged.  

His condescending attitude was infuriating.  

“At least wipe off your sweat.”  

“You should’ve handed me that earlier.”  

Snatching the towel Thomas offered, Georges roughly wiped his neck and forehead.  

‘I shouldn’t have confided in him.’  

If he could turn back time, he would.  

But that wasn’t possible.  

It had all started with a trivial misunderstanding on his part.  

‘Does His Grace like me?’

From the day the Duke had asked him about divorce, Georges had been lost in thought.  

‘Baron Dupont, have you ever considered divorce?’  

The Duke had spoken as though dissatisfied with his own marriage. He had confided such a personal and private concern—not to anyone else, but to Georges.  

There had been other suspicious incidents as well. The Duke had insisted on sparring with him despite his injured arm, and when they went undercover to investigate a tavern, he had insisted on sitting next to Georges instead of Thomas.  

‘Does he like me that much?’  

But it was a troubling thought.  

Georges respected His Grace, Duke Richard, the greatest knight in the empire, but this was far from the feelings of love.  

However, this worry, which had plagued him for a month, was resolved in the simplest of ways.  

‘The honeymoon of Duke Richard and the Duchess!’  

The rumor was so widespread that there wasn’t a single person in the Caspian Empire who hadn’t heard it. The Duke’s face, upon his return, was full of the bashful shyness typical of a newlywed.  

‘Ah, I completely misunderstood!’  

While it was a relief, Georges also felt utterly foolish for having worried over nothing.  

‘I think I embarrassed myself by clinging to Thomas while drunk.’  

He had cried, and possibly done even worse, though he didn’t want to remember the details.  

“…Ha.”  

As Georges let out a deep sigh, Thomas, who had somehow gotten a bottle of water, handed it to him with a grin.  

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re oblivious?”  

“Me? Oblivious? Me, the famous socialite?”  

It was the most absurd thing he had ever heard.