The man who would be her husband in the morning – Benjamin Ishpern, with his firm, fresh body like an unripe wild plum and his dangerously divine eyes, as if sent by the gods to test her – held his lips to the back of her hand and murmured.

“This may be our first meeting… but Lady Winston, would you do me the honour of the first dance?”

And his deep, low voice – why did it have to be so sweet?

It was as if she could taste chocolate through her ears.

Before she could even think of playing coy, Helena found herself replying.

“Even if we danced from the first song to the last, I doubt anyone would object. After all, we’ll be husband and wife by morning, Count Ishpern.”

He smiled at her words.

Helena saw the slight curve of his full lips form into a wry grin.

As the corner of his mouth turned up to the left, she caught a glimpse of a sharp, white canine tooth between his parted ruby lips. And that, too, was impossibly charming.

They stepped between the rows of dancers and faced each other.

Surrounded by people, they exchanged a light bow, their eyes locked on one another.

‘This is really bad…’

Helena couldn’t take her eyes off him, as if under some kind of spell.

Her black pearl held out her hand to him.

As she placed her hand in his large, firm palm, Helena felt a thrill even greater than when she had danced her very first waltz on her debut in society.

“…!”

The next moment, Helena’s body spun gracefully in a full turn.

By the time she regained her senses, she was already stepping in time, held securely in Count Ishpern’s strong arms.

She could feel his warm breath on her forehead.

“Forgive me if I’m clumsy. I haven’t had many opportunities to dance at events like this.”

An intoxicating mixture of cologne and his own body heat drifted from his silk shirt – so rich and intoxicating that words couldn’t do it justice.

His sweet voice, murmured close to her ear, was like sugar syrup dripped directly into her mind, and his scent was almost enough to make her lose all reason.

It was like falling into a jar of golden honey – and in the midst of it, Helena was fighting to keep her sanity.

“For someone who says so, your steps are impeccable, Count Ishpern.”

Her words carried the subtle meaning of “Don’t lie – not if you’re a count”.

But Count Ishpern seemed to take her remark as a compliment.

With the proud smile of a child receiving praise, he leaned forward and whispered sweetly in her ear.

“I have practised… just for today.”

A dizzying wave washed over her.

Helena had to close her eyes carefully.

‘He’s got a dangerously sexy body, an unbearably handsome face, and now he’s even showing signs of being cute? This is the worst…’

She felt like she’d have to write a letter of apology to Empress Clarissa tonight.

‘Your Majesty, I’m sorry. I think I’m the one who fell for the honey trap…’

As she stood with her eyes closed, Count Ishpern whispered to her.

“Lady Winston?”

“……”

“Miss Helena?”

“……”

“Are you all right?”

Helena opened her eyes wide and replied.

“Call me that again.”

Count Ishpern’s eyes widened slightly at her reply.

“And why is that?”

“Because after today you’ll be calling me your wife, won’t you? I’d like to hear ‘Lady Winston’ or ‘Miss Helena’ a bit more while I still can.”

At her words, that familiar, slightly crooked smile tugged at his lips.

He leaned forward and whispered in her ear.

“Anytime. I’ll call you as you wish – Lady Winston and Miss Helena.”

The music stopped.

As she slipped from his firm embrace, an unexpected emptiness washed over her.

But she couldn’t show any signs of attachment for the time being.

With a languid smile, Helena said.

“I’m feeling a bit dizzy. I think I’ll go and rest.”

He also offered a faint smile.

“Please do, Lady Winston—and Miss Helena. The night is long, after all.”

‘The night is long.’

‘The night is long!’

It was such a common phrase, yet when it flowed from those alluring lips of his, it sounded like the most seductive whisper imaginable.

Helena swayed slightly as she made her way back to her seat, not sparing even a glance for her followers, who were trembling with jealousy.

‘…What should I write in the letter?’

They had only met once, but Helena already felt certain—Count Ishpern wasn’t a bad man.

He was young and beautiful, with the body of a strong knight and the heart of a gentle gentleman. Add to that his title and vast lands.

There was no way someone like him could be connected to the dangerous group rumored to threaten the empire’s peace.

‘Even if, by some chance, he’s the tiniest bit involved with them… I can handle it.’

She would marry him.

As a refined and wise woman, she was confident that she could enchant him so thoroughly that he would never think of dark thoughts again.

In her arms, with her gentle comfort, he would forget whatever ominous past he carried and be reborn.

To calm herself, Helena sipped at her chilled cider, the clinking of the ice helping to steady her thoughts – until her eyes suddenly caught sight of Count Ishpern standing on the opposite side of the hall.

A knight, cloaked and wearing a crest that marked him as one of the count’s retinue, was speaking to him from behind a column.

At the knight’s words, the count’s face hardened more than it had all evening.

Without a word, he followed the knight out into the garden.

‘What was that about?’

Her excitement cooled, giving way to curiosity.

Helena didn’t hold back. She put down her glass and glided quietly to the terrace that opened onto the garden.

The terrace had been designed to give a full view of the garden, but thanks to the neatly trimmed shrubbery, those in the garden couldn’t easily see into the terrace.

From inside, however, the outside was perfectly visible – and even the faintest sounds could be heard clearly.

Helena smiled mischievously to herself.

‘Count, have you let your guard down? This still falls within my domain, you know.’

By sheer luck, Count Ishpern and his knight seemed to be speaking just below the terrace, just behind the garden hedge that lined it.

Helena held her breath, listening intently to their voices.

“You seemed to be enjoying yourselves. I take it you’re pleased with your bride-to-be? That’s a relief.”

The knight said, offering his polite congratulations.

Count Ishpern replied… with a sharpness that seemed far too much.

“Don’t talk nonsense.”

Helena blinked, startled.

‘What was that?’

And then came the next words.

“This marriage is about money. Nobles… they disgust me.”

Helena’s mouth dropped open.

She couldn’t believe what she had just heard.

But Count Ishpern drove the point home.

“A typical depraved noblewoman.”

Count Ishpern sneered, his mouth refusing to stop.

“Dragging men around like some kind of queen – absolutely pathetic.”

Helena’s heart pounded.

“The look on her face when she saw mine… I thought I could just put her in a separate wing and pretend to check on her every now and then.”

“A separate wing? What if she ends up asking for a divorce?”

“I’ll have spent the dowry by then. She can go back with nothing.”

“You haven’t changed a bit.”

It seemed that this kind of coldness was nothing new to him, as he turned to business in a matter-of-fact tone.

“More importantly, the Gate travel costs. I know we’ll have to add the Countess’s share for the return trip. Will we be able to cover that within the budget?”

“What? We’ve already run out of money?”

“Well, Your Excellency, the rental fee for your formal wear was higher than expected.”

“It was expensive. Who would have thought a piece of cloth like that would cost so damn much?”

That was all she needed to hear.

Helena rose from her seat like a ghost, her movements faint and trembling.

She couldn’t comprehend what had just happened.

It felt like walking through water—unsteady, surreal—as she stumbled back toward the banquet hall.

The guests, still merrily enjoying the evening, raised their glasses and cheered at her reappearance.