Chapter 10

Beatrice was so startled her heart nearly dropped. Turning her creaking head, she caught sight of the end of a leg sticking out over the sofa armrest.

…She hadn’t sensed any presence at all.

Beatrice didn’t blame herself. It was understandable she didn’t notice.

Just as she was skilled in miscellaneous arts, Erich von Schwert was also deeply knowledgeable in many fields. Maybe not as much as swordsmanship, but she’d heard his stealth skills were impressive.

“Why are you here?”

Beatrice strode toward the sofa, firing her question.

Avoiding the trap-like shoes scattered around, she arrived in front of the sofa, only to face the annoyingly elegant man.

Grand Duke Erich von Schwert was sprawled out like a dandy, using a cushion as a pillow. Even though she was right in front of him, he didn’t open his eyes.

In the sunlight, his black hair shone like the finest silk. Lush eyelashes, neat lips, fair and smooth skin, and sharp features.

Beautiful.

Beatrice admitted it bluntly. If someone captured this scene in a painting, it would surely become an immortal masterpiece.

Annoying. How could one person be so full of annoying charm?

His massive build and height seemed too large even for the huge sofa.

Beatrice mischievously pondered how to make him open his eyes. At the same time, Erich suddenly opened his eyes and looked up at her.

“Why keep them closed?”

“I had a bad feeling.”

“Hmph.”

“…Isn’t it too obvious to use the armistice anniversary as a password?”

A hundred times better than an ex-lover’s birthday. 

Beatrice glared, hands on her hips.

“I didn’t ask how you got here, I asked why you’re here.”

“Here.”

Erich raised his hand. Between his index and middle finger was a hairpin. One she’d been searching for, so Beatrice scratched her head, slightly embarrassed.

She must have left it at the Schwert ducal residence.

“…Thanks. It’s my second favorite hairpin.”

“What’s your favorite?”

“This one.”

Beatrice pointed at the hairpin currently holding her hair. The black hairpin, shaped like plum blossoms with amethyst, had been with her since the distant past.

Erich glanced at the hairpin and shrugged.

“I see. Anyway.”

He waved his hand lightly.

Watching his hand, not the hairpin, Beatrice slowly crossed her arms.

His neatly trimmed nails and beautiful hands were trembling slightly.

“Is it a spasm before paralysis?”

“Yeah. The last spasm was two weeks ago.”

“So the cycle is about two weeks. We did it seven times then, right?”

Erich’s eyes curved.

“You remember? You looked like you passed out at the end.”

“Is making someone faint something to brag about?”

“In this area, it is.”

Beatrice rolled her eyes skyward.

The sofa groaned faintly. Erich sat up.

Watching him tidy his hair pressed by the cushion, Beatrice tried to sort out her feelings.

Strictly speaking, she wasn’t angry at Erich von Schwert’s intrusion. She was angry at the damned Ivory Tower elders and the way things hadn’t gone as she wanted.

So she shouldn’t take out her twisted feelings on him.

…But that wasn’t easy.

Erich, legs stretched out, watched her with a boyish innocence. Even though she wasn’t performing acrobatics.

His dark blue eyes sparkled so purely that Beatrice had to grit her teeth.

“Whugh rrugh rr vunnd (Why are you looking at me like that).”

“I’m curious who improved our Tower Master’s cursing skills.”

“It’s the Ivory Tower’s business.”

“Not surprising.”

“So you came all the way here just to hand over a hairpin… Ah.”

It couldn’t be because of the hairpin. Beatrice smirked crookedly.

“Did you come because you wanted s*x, Schwert? I didn’t know you were so obsessed with it.”

“You didn’t know?”

“…”

“That’s disappointing. It’s fine if every woman in the world doesn’t know, but you should.”

Beatrice had to recall their dating days. And admit it.

The madman before her really was obsessed…

The dear Grand Duke wasn’t interested in women in general, but once he met one, he went all the way.

Erich seized the moment as she hesitated, reaching out. In the blink of an eye, Beatrice lost her balance and fell into his arms.

He smelled of magnolia, as always.

Instead of making a hopeless escape attempt, Beatrice adjusted herself for comfort. So she could look at his beautiful face up close.

“I thought you’d mellow with age.”

“So did I. But after years of starving, a feast makes anyone go crazy.”

“What if I don’t feel like it today?”

“Then nothing to do.”

Did he really come because he was desperate? The Grand Duke smiled leisurely.

Even though not doing it meant he’d be paralyzed and die.

Beatrice pressed her forehead to his. Then, with all sincerity, pushed her head forward.

Erich raised an eyebrow, then pushed back harder. Beatrice’s forehead was pushed back.

She nearly lost balance and rolled off, but instead, she smiled and pulled away.

Bang!

The one who boldly tried the headbutt and ended up knocked out was Beatrice.

“Aagh!”

She rolled on the floor, clutching her forehead.

“Blockhead!”

She screamed, half in earnest.

She really saw stars. Her vision was dazzlingly white.

It hurt so much Beatrice rubbed her forehead, almost crying. The unfair part was that she was suffering, but the man sitting on the sofa with crossed legs looked perfectly fine.

Erich wiggled his toes, looking down at her rolling on the floor. When she finally looked up, his handsome face was half incredulous, half pitying.

“Blockhead!”

She shrieked, only to get an obvious sneer in return.

“Of course my head is harder than stone. Good grief, Beatrice Winter. How much did you underestimate the body of a martial artist who’s trained energy?”

“…”

“You smashed your head against steel. So, I’m a blockhead in the literal sense. But figuratively, maybe you’re the blockhead, not me?”

Beatrice was sad she couldn’t deny it.

Even sadder, her suffering didn’t end there.

As she sat pitifully on the floor, rubbing her forehead, Erich didn’t leave her alone. Like a raptor hunting, he picked her up and carried her to the bed.

To her messy bed, strewn with paper, pens, ink, stains, scribbles, and more.

He seemed shocked by the dirty scene, freezing for a while.

“A thousand years of l*st would die here.”

He finally grumbled, glancing at her.

“Is this a pigsty or a human bed?”

“…It’s a human pen.”

Offering a compromise answer, Beatrice caught a hint of subtle contempt in his dark blue gaze.

Ah, why.

It’s better than a pig’s bed, isn’t it?

She sadly clapped her hands twice. At the cheerful sound, two dolls near the pillow got up and started cleaning.

They stacked papers, wiped stains, put away pens and ink, and handled crumbs.

Very helpful dolls.

“Seriously, Beatrice. Is it worse that you use little dolls because you hate cleaning yourself, or worse that you don’t even clap twice to clean when you could? What do you think?”

“Quiet…”

Now the contempt in his cold gaze was clear. Beatrice felt even sadder.

Having dragged her to the bed, Erich didn’t undress her.

He just tucked her into his large embrace. She could feel the heat from his thigh under her, but he didn’t move.

Beatrice slowly, carefully squirmed.

The warmth on her back, the breath in her hair… all uncomfortable. Very.

His strong arms around her waist, his hands that softened when touching her—things she didn’t want to remember.

Whether he knew her thoughts or not, Erich held her tightly. Even if Beatrice Winter wore a prickly expression, he knew exactly that what she really wanted was a warm hug.

Whether he wanted to remember it was another matter.

Countless emotions stirred uneasy waves inside her. Trying not to analyze her true feelings, Erich just hugged her tighter.

Beatrice Winter was still the same.

Still pale, comfortably loose, and smelling of forget-me-nots.

In his arms, she kept twitching. She looked like she wanted to escape, but Erich mischievously didn’t let go.

Only when Beatrice tapped his arm did he reluctantly release her. Freed, she climbed onto him.

“Let’s do it.”

Beatrice pulled out her hairpin.