Chapter 8

Looking at the cold, composed face of the Grand Duke, Beatrice felt a shock to her mind and body.

She swore, his act of pretending to be shy was far more annoying than her own act of pretending to be clueless. She hadn’t realized he was talented not only in performance, but in acting as well.

“I did.”

Swallowing her sharp assessment, Beatrice corrected the situation.

Come to think of it, Schwert should have been careful regarding children and pregnancy.

If the head of a high noble house didn’t manage the heir issue, that would be a problem in itself…

“So there’s no risk of your succession getting tangled.”

“Beatrice.”

“The reason I came here in the first place was to have *ntercourse with you. Why would I not use contraception?”

“…That’s true.”

Erich added in a flat voice,

“You wouldn’t want my child.”

Beatrice shrugged.

Just then, as if fortune was finally on her side, breakfast was ready. It was enough to break the unpleasant silence.

Beatrice made a show of being extra delighted as she grabbed her utensils.

Not long after starting breakfast, Beatrice remembered why she disliked sharing meals with this man. With an awkward look, she wiped her neat lips, scrubbing harder with the napkin.

Across from her, Erich von Schwert was eating toast in the cleanest way possible. Surely, he was the only person in the world who could eat bread so tidily.

Not a crumb spilled. Not a drop of jam on his lips.

Just by eating, he showed he was born noble and raised accordingly. Given Erich’s lifelong status as a high noble, it was natural his eating manner was elegant.

Beatrice slowly put down her napkin.

She didn’t want to defend Erich von Schwert, but to be fair,

He had never once nagged her to eat without spilling or making a mess. He had never once destroyed her self-esteem in this area.

So the feelings she had now were entirely her own psychological issue.

But sitting before someone with perfect table manners, she couldn’t help but feel embarrassed about her own shortcomings…

“Why? Is it not good?”

Erich silently set down his teacup. With a gaze full of curiosity, Beatrice shook her head.

“No, it’s delicious. Really delicious.”

“Then?”

“Hmm, I just remembered some things to talk about.”

Beatrice poked at the walnuts and cranberries in her salad with her fork.

“As you probably guessed, I don’t think I can lift the ‘Name’ curse right away. The ritual needs quite a few ingredients, and three key ones are missing.”

“I see.”

“While I’m gathering those three, I’ll cooperate fully with you. So don’t worry about that part.”

Erich’s eyes narrowed.

She expected a sharp remark, but he surprisingly thanked her gently.

“Thank you.”

“…The curse seems to be alleviated through fl*id exchange, so using contraception that blocks the member won’t work. I’ll handle contraception, so don’t worry.”

“How will you do it?”

“I’m considering mixing a contraceptive drug into my cigarettes.”

Taking medicine at the same time every day was troublesome and easy to forget. Beatrice knew she could get absorbed in research for hours without noticing the time.

“Side effects?”

“Nothing serious.”

“Mix it into mine.”

“No. It’s less risky for women. Women only get slight headaches and nausea, but men can become infertile if they overdose.”

Even at the word ‘infertile’, Erich’s expression didn’t change.

“What’s considered overdose?”

“More than seven cigarettes a day.”

“Put it in mine.”

Beatrice tried to object.

“Why? Are you afraid I’ll try to have your child on purpose?”

A sharp sneer danced on his lips.

“No thanks. I wouldn’t want to plant seeds in a woman who doesn’t want my child.”

“…”

“Put it in mine.”

Beatrice quietly raised both hands in surrender. Signaling her agreement, she stuffed the walnut and cranberry she’d been attacking into her mouth and chewed.

As expected, it was delicious.

One was savory, the other sweet. Satisfied, she washed them down with water and spoke.

“I’ll prepare the missing ingredients as quickly as possible. Since nothing’s available on the market now, I may have to go find them myself.”

“I’ll go with you.”

Beatrice was about to refuse, but realized he couldn’t be separated from her.

“…Alright. If I go out to find them, I’ll let you know.”

“Finished eating?”

“Yes.”

“You’re eating less.”

“What about you?”

You hardly ever ate breakfast.

Beatrice stopped herself from saying it, ruffling her hair.

Erich had been paralyzed for two days. Naturally, he hadn’t eaten, so it was only right for him to eat breakfast now.

He hadn’t eaten for two days, yet had the energy to keep going… That was even more surprising…

Beatrice decided not to dig further into that issue.

“If there’s any other problem, contact me. I’ll check as fast as I can.”

“I’ll do that.”

Beatrice quietly stood from the table. She grabbed just two medicine bottles and prepared to leave the room.

* * *

Erich simply watched the woman’s back as she left. Seeing her act exactly as he expected, he raised one eyebrow.

Even after sharing bodies, Beatrice Winter was still Beatrice Winter—unchangingly cold.

He wondered what she thought as she faced the barrier he’d set up. Did she remember explaining each ingredient to him when she set it up?

Of course, Erich didn’t ask.

Naturally. He had no taste for self-t*rture. Instead, he tried to diagnose the feelings he was experiencing.

He’d slept with his ex-lover.

…So?

What had he gained? Was it the unpleasant realization that things buried deep in the subconscious could come alive with the smallest trigger? Was it the conflict of not knowing how to act now, not wanting to admit the origin?

He scoffed inwardly.

He kept thinking about it, but he had no taste for self-t*rture. He hated clinging to hopeless things.

Erich blinked slowly. Watching the woman walk away without hesitation, he pondered a simple question.

Would Beatrice Winter ever look back at him?

When she passed the sofa they’d tangled on and reached the door, Beatrice spun around to look at the man still watching her.

His dark blue gaze was calm, without highs or lows.

A flawless, chilling smoothness and terrifying perfection—thus, arrogant composure.

That was the essence of Schwert.

Beatrice dismissed her trivial thoughts. Turning her feet, she approached the man, who raised an eyebrow.

“I forgot to ask you something.”

“Hm?”

“You, don’t tell me you have lingering feelings for me?”

The man didn’t react immediately. He blinked as if slapped, then showed emotion a beat later.

His noble features filled with incredulity. It felt like his skin was asking, ‘Are you crazy?’

Erich twisted his head and asked with a cheerful voice,

“Me? For you?”

“Then why is the password to this bedroom my birthday, Erich von Schwert?”

“Ah. Sorry. I forgot that was your birthday.”

His answer was smooth, not an excuse, but an explanation. Beatrice pondered his reason and snorted.

“What’s with that face?”

“I was considering how you can remember my pleasure points so well but forget my birthday—what a hopeless type you are. Why?”

“…Ah.”

“It’s fine, I’m not going to say anything. You’re not my man anymore.”

Beatrice waved her hand lightly.

“You don’t have lingering feelings for me, and I don’t have lingering feelings for you. So nothing changes just because we slept together. Right?”

One corner of the man’s mouth twisted. The crooked smile was akin to a sneer.

Beatrice deliberately put strength into every word.

“I’m not trying to be open about it. I’m conservative in this area too. But we didn’t have s*x purely by choice. Did you want to do this with me?”

“Huh.”

“There’s only one reason we had s*x. I wanted to save you. You wanted to use me to survive.”

Declaring it like hammering a nail, Beatrice scrutinized his dark blue eyes. To see if a crack would form in that terrifyingly calm gaze.

“Am I wrong?”