Chapter 15

Erich von Schwert was sitting under the willow tree in a relaxed posture.

Although Beatrice had rushed quickly until she arrived at the garden, she paused at the entrance. At the end of her gaze, a man was seated.

Erich von Schwert, with his legs crossed, elbows resting on his knees, and chin propped up.

He looked utterly at ease, the perfect image of a gentleman of leisure.

Once, the hand that couldn’t let go of the sword now held a foxtail, toying with a cat. Near his tapping shoe, a gray rabbit was munching lettuce.

The tip of the foxtail traced an arc.

A white cat, full of rage, leapt but couldn’t beat its master’s speed. The foxtail flicked again, and the cat, just as quickly, was tossed to the ground.

Meow!

Apparently furious, the cat dug its claws into its master’s pant leg.

“Why are you getting annoyed with me for being slow?”

Hiss—!

He really knew how to rile up a cat.

Beatrice genuinely sympathized with the angry white cat. Regardless, the man moved his hand and this time tickled the rabbit’s head with the foxtail.

The gray rabbit tilted its head, then went right back to eating, ignoring the foxtail tapping its head.

“Your master’s here. Aren’t you going to greet?”

The rabbit paid no attention. The white cat, pressed close to the rabbit, started grooming itself.

“Not greeting is just like your master, huh?”

After hearing that biting remark, Beatrice hesitantly stepped into the garden. As she approached, his sharp gaze swung and locked onto her.

Beatrice froze like a broken doll, unable to close the distance further.

The reason… even she didn’t know. She couldn’t figure it out.

Erich von Schwert was no different from usual, yet somehow he felt more difficult to approach than ever.

This isn’t good.

Definitely not a good sign.

She kept thinking, trying to come up with the most natural greeting.

“Would you kindly explain why you smashed your own statue, Grand Duke? Not any other statue, but your own.”

Yes. This sort of… this kind of confrontational start was ‘normal’ for them. After their breakup, their conversations always started this way.

Feeling she’d chosen the right opening, Beatrice relaxed. She cocked an eyebrow and stepped closer.

Erich kept his chin propped, only turning his head. His handsome features openly showed boredom.

Like a student enduring an endless class. Sigh.

As Beatrice stepped closer, his sulky expression melted away like the first snow, replaced by a cold sarcasm.

“I was annoyed at a guest who didn’t greet the homeowner. I wanted to see that expensive face, so I dragged you out. Why?”

“So you smashed your own statue? You’ve finally lost it?”

“I’m sick of that insult too.”

“Don’t argue.”

“Yes, yes.”

Erich now lowered his head to observe the rabbit and cat. Seeing him so clearly ignoring her, Beatrice bit her lip.

What did she do wrong?

Not coming to greet him? For that reason? Usually, they avoided meeting as much as possible. Unless absolutely necessary, they both did their best to avoid each other.

Erich waved dismissively, as if to break her confusion. A blatant gesture to get rid of her.

“If you’ve restored the statue, send me the bill. I’ll pay. Now leave.”

“…How’s your body?”

“……”

“Because, well, we only did it once.”

“Ah. Amazing, Beatrice Winter. Even admiration comes out. Such a diligent researcher—the Ivory Tower will praise you forever.”

Beatrice moved right up to his face. Close enough for her leg to touch his knee.

She would’ve liked to kick his shin or stomp his foot, but she’d learned a valuable lesson from their last headbutt.

“How’s your body? Aren’t you going to answer?”

“……”

“I’m asking because I care, you bastard. Can’t I even worry?”

Erich visibly flinched.

He stared at her with complicated eyes, then finally, finally, sighed deeply.

He raised a hand.

The tremor in his fingers wasn’t severe, but it was visible to the n*ked eye. Apparently, the frequency of symptoms was related to the number of times they were together.

She’d need to do it more often when there’s time.

Chewing over the obvious conclusion, Beatrice pressed his shoulder with her finger.

Erich obediently leaned back, relaxing his posture. Now he looked up at her from the chair’s back.

He seemed a bit apologetic. Beatrice considered twisting his handsome nose but just sat herself down on his knee.

His hand naturally wrapped around her waist.

“I’ll come tonight.”

“…Okay.”

She recalled her calculations that fl*id exchange was essential for calming symptoms and pulled Erich’s head toward her. He tilted his head back obediently.

His prominent Adam’s apple, sharp jawline, and smooth nose.

Beatrice slowly lifted her gaze. As she buried her hand in the back of his head, he realized what she was about to do and smirked.

Even as she lowered her face, he didn’t close his eyes. Even as she gently touched the corner of his eye with her thumb.

Breaths mixed. Fl*ids mingled.

Beatrice bit Erich’s lower lip gently, then pressed her body closer, cupping his soft cheeks. To get as close as possible.

It wasn’t a wild, stormy kiss—they moved slowly the whole time.

They explored each other’s mouths, rubbed the roofs of their mouths, entwined and released their tongues as if it were choreographed.

It was an act of exposing the depths of each other’s souls. It also pulled up distant memories.

Beatrice didn’t realize she was greedily holding onto her partner. Too many thoughts invaded her mind, and she was doing her best to chase them all out.

“Haa…”

Only after Erich exhaled languidly and rubbed her earlobe did Beatrice realize something small.

That she was disappointed—deep down—by the uncertain suspicion that he hadn’t trusted her.

That’s not a good sign.

Beatrice thought in her dizzy mind.

To feel discouraged by a hypothesis that shouldn’t matter at all—she must not let herself do that…

She hid her tongue and bit his lower lip with a mix of affection and irritation. Ignoring his soft protest, she bit again, making his facial muscles visibly twitch.

“I always think—”

She grabbed Erich von Schwert’s earlobe.

“Not always, but since we started being together again.”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t know what your s*x life was like after we broke up. Actually, I don’t care, so don’t answer. The problem is you—”

“Mm?”

The man, who was already kneading her thigh beneath her dress, asked with an innocent expression. Thankfully, she was wearing a one-piece dress; if she’d been wearing separate top and bottom, his bad hands would be kneading her chest instead.

“You’ve become much more of a pervert than before.”

“I also—ugh. Don’t pull my ear.”

“Take your hand off my thigh.”

Instead of letting go, Erich hugged her waist tighter, burying his face in her chest.

Was it intentional or not? Beatrice sighed deeply and rolled her eyes skyward.

While Beatrice exhaled, Erich inhaled deeply beside her. The forget-me-not scent filling his nose brought back old memories.

Whether the woman remembered or not, after every battle she would always hug him like this. With her small arms, despite him being twice her size.

As if to protect him from all the trials of the world.

Whenever she held him like this, Erich von Schwert would pray that time would just stop.