“The performance will begin soon.”

It was a dance invitation devoid of any pretense of courtesy. They hadn’t even danced the first waltz yet, but the man’s strictly businesslike attitude radiated nothing but a sense of duty rather than affection toward his partner.

“How utterly insincere.”

Even as she chided him, Aveline gently placed her hand atop his.

After all, refusal was never an option for either of them.

Slowly, the two made their way to the center of the ballroom. The crowd naturally parted, their gazes piercing like arrows.

Aveline squeezed his hand firmly, a triumphant smile playing on her lips. As if to proclaim their relationship to the world—proudly, possessively.

It was the kind of satisfaction one might derive from owning a well-bred horse, a smug sense of ownership.

But he was no horse—he was a man. Not just any man, but the Duke of Evuteren, one of the highest-ranking nobles in the empire.

Every time Aveline treated him like a mere decoration, Kazerre wondered if she had ever truly considered respecting him as a person.

To her, he was, at times, a prized trophy, the most expensive ornament, or a doll she refused to let anyone else have.

‘This disgusting feeling never gets any easier.’

Annoyance welled up in him once again, but there was nothing he could do except endure the moment at her side.

Like it or not, she was still his fate.

Since the conclusion was already decided, it was better to shut off unnecessary thoughts and conserve his emotions.

Kazerre mentally ran through his tasks for the night.

Two dances. Exchange pleasantries with acquaintances. Socialize appropriately by Aveline’s side.

‘Eventually, even this wretched night will come to an end.’

With that thought, Kazerre focused on leading Aveline through the steps in time with the music. As a soldier, he was used to following predetermined rules without overthinking them.

“What are you thinking about?”

At the sudden question, Kazerre lowered his gaze to meet hers.

The dazzling chandelier lights illuminated her face, making it impossibly radiant.

For a moment, he understood why so many men turned into fools in her presence, blushing and stumbling over their words.

Had he not known just how sharp the barbs could be behind that dazzling smile, he might have been tempted to join their ranks as well.

“Nothing.”

“Still a terrible liar, I see.”

Her blunt remark made his brow twitch, though Aveline remained as composed as ever, her smile unwavering.

“If you’re going to lie, at least do it properly. Put some effort into your performance—make me want to believe you.”

Spoken like a woman well-versed in deception. And no proof was needed beyond the charming, perfectly controlled smile she wore now.

Aveline’s smile was like a poisonous flower—vividly beautiful yet deadly. It drew people in, only to prove fatal once they got too close.

“You must put a great deal of effort into deceiving others.”

Kazerre’s tone was laced with quiet derision, but Aveline merely laughed, as if amused rather than offended.

“Lies should always be told with sincerity. Even more so than the truth—so convincingly that you fool even yourself.”

Her voice dropped into a whisper as she leaned in, pressing a hand against his shoulder and running it slowly down his arm.

Even through the layers of thick fabric, the sensation was unsettlingly vivid, like bare skin being brushed.

Kazerre shut down the conversation as if shaking off her touch.

“Save your pointless advice. Whatever I think about is none of your concern.”

“Fine. Personally, I prefer men who are bad at lying over those who are too good at it.”

He wanted to retort that he hadn’t said it for her sake, but at that moment, Aveline spun away with the next step, momentarily breaking their connection.

Since he had wished for the conversation to end, Kazerre simply refocused on guiding her through the dance, carrying out his role without complaint.

Then, as she spun back toward him, something familiar brushed past his nose.

A fleeting scent—one he had encountered before. His grip on her waist reflexively tightened.

It was an odd fragrance, one that always felt both familiar and unfamiliar at once.

Not the perfume Aveline usually wore, but a subtle, natural scent he only noticed when they were pressed close like this.

A scent like a lone wild rose blooming amidst a thicket—fragrant, yet tinged with solitude.

Of course, whatever scent clung to Aveline was of no importance to him.

And yet, that faint, ephemeral fragrance lingered, persistently scratching at his nerves, refusing to be ignored.

The irritation was so intense that he felt a sudden impulse to uncover its source, bury his nose in it, and take in a deep breath.

‘That’s insane.’

A surge of instinctive resistance flared up within him, accompanied by an unplaceable sense of self-loathing.

Since the day he took up the sword on the front lines in his father’s stead, his goal had always been singular.

To protect everything that belonged to the name Evuteren.

Be it people, possessions, or even a mere title of honor, Kazerre bore the duty of carrying it all as the Duke of Evuteren.

However, this sudden and savage impulse rattled his firm reason in an instant.

There was no way he could welcome the helplessness that threatened to reduce him to a mere beast rather than a man. The overwhelming repulsion he felt was directed squarely at the one responsible for making him feel this way.

‘She really knows how to exhaust me in every way.’

As always, Kazerre wished for the dance to end quickly. He wanted nothing more than to let go of her hand and put distance between them.

As if she had read his thoughts, Aveline suddenly halted her movements just as the piece was drawing to a close.

“Aveline?”

She never let him go easily when they danced, often forcing him through two or more pieces. Yet now that she had stepped away first, Kazerre found himself taken aback.

Despite this being what he had desired all along, the unexpectedness of it left an unpleasant feeling behind.

“Let’s stop for tonight. Let’s go in.”

Her commanding tone was reminiscent of a capricious queen issuing an order. However, contrary to the imposing nature of her words, Aveline gently brushed the back of his hand, which had been resting on her waist. Then, she lightly placed her own hand atop it.

They looked every bit the affectionate lovers.

Kazerre instantly realized that it was now his turn to stand beside her as her prized display, surrounded by watchful eyes.

Just as expected, the moment they stepped toward the edge of the hall, the crowd swarmed around them as if they had been waiting. Though none dared to approach too closely, their curiosity was palpable.

“That was a splendid dance, Lady Croeta.”

“Thank you for the compliment.”

Aveline smoothly led the conversation with practiced elegance. Those speaking with her seemed quite familiar with her.

Despite her sharp nature, she was always surrounded by people. Given that she was destined to become the Duchess of Evuteren, it was only natural that they sought to stay in her good graces.

And as always, Kazerre stood a step away from the social stage, silently fulfilling his role as a mere spectator. Watching closely in case an irritated Aveline might turn her claws on some unsuspecting victim.

“Duke Evuteren.”

At that moment, a gentle voice called him out directly. Kazerre turned his head as if waking from a deep sleep.

A woman with neatly braided black hair and a simple green dress stood there, smiling softly.

Her fiery red eyes, rather than appearing intense, carried a warmth due to her gentle demeanor.

“Princess Beatrice.”

Kazerre, who had been standing stiffly, immediately greeted her. His previously impassive face, as cold and unyielding as a statue, seemed to slowly warm with life.

“It has been a while.”

“Have you been well?”

Instead of answering, Beatrice smiled and gave a small nod. Then, after briefly glancing around as if troubled, she spoke again.

“Oh dear, it seems I am not the only one who wishes to speak with you, Duke. Would it be better to postpone our conversation?”

“No, I am fine now.”

Kazerre stepped toward her without hesitation. The moment the princess and the duke met, the crowd instinctively stepped back, making way for them.

As he escorted Beatrice with natural ease, Kazerre glanced back over his shoulder.

Aveline did not appear displeased. Instead, she wore a neutral expression, her gaze flickering slightly before she abruptly turned away.

Without a hint of concern, she turned her back on them and shifted her focus to other guests, distancing herself.

“Shall we take a walk, Duke?”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“I’d like some fresh night air.”

Understanding her intention, Kazerre moved without hesitation.

Leaving behind the watching eyes, they passed through the doors leading to the outdoor garden.

Even after stepping outside, they strolled quietly through the moonlit garden where few people lingered. Perhaps due to the stifling heat inside the ballroom, the early summer night air felt pleasantly cool.

The occasional chirping of insects and the soft rustling of their garments against the grass helped dissipate the banquet hall’s lingering warmth.

Once they were far enough from prying eyes, Kazerre spoke in a low voice.

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

“Now that it’s just us, must you still use such formal speech? Brother.”

Beatrice smiled softly. Her honorifics carried the familiarity and bond they had shared since childhood.

Beatrice was Kazerre’s kin. More precisely, her mother, Empress Consort Elise Evuteren, was the sister of the late Duke Dominic Evuteren, making her Kazerre’s aunt.

Empress Consort Elise had once been a proud knight of the Snowfield Order, so committed to her Evuteren identity that she had forsaken the position of Empress Consort to uphold it. The Evuteren siblings had supported each other in battle, their bond forged in the harshest of trials.

Perhaps that was why they shared the same tragic fate.

Both perished together on the battlefield, never to return from the monster subjugation campaign they had embarked on.

For young Kazerre, losing both of his most trusted elders at once had been an unparalleled devastation. And yet, he could only respect Elise, who had remained true to her identity as an Evuteren to the very end.

His greatest concern, however, had been for those she left behind. At the time, Beatrice had been only eight years old, and her younger brother, Prince Leonard, had been a mere infant.

Before Elise’s lifeless body, Kazerre had sworn to protect her children at all costs. It was the only way he could honor her legacy as the next Duke of Evuteren.

Because of that, even now, despite Beatrice having grown into a refined young lady, he couldn’t help but still see her as the little girl who had once toddled after him.

“And didn’t we agree that you would stop thanking me? Though I suppose I might earn some resentment from Aveline for stealing you away.”