Aiden’s eyes opened, forced open by the searing heat churning inside his skull.

He slowly brushed aside the black strands scattered across the white pillow.

Sveta’s final trace.

A part of her, like a relic she had left behind.

A fragment of Sveta that had survived undigested within the belly of the Ballok wolf.

At some point, he had begun to feel at peace only when her hair was beside him.

He carefully bound the strands together, painstakingly combing and arranging them.

He treated them with quiet reverence, cradling them as though he were holding her herself.

“Pathetic.”

As his senses slowly returned, they mocked him mercilessly.

When had he taken off his shirt?

Hiding his face in her hair like this must look absurd to anyone who sees him.

A faint, humorless laugh escaped his lips as he poured himself another glass of wine.

He picked up a nearby vial, uncorked it, and carelessly emptied the powdered medicine into his glass.

He no longer even knew what it was.

A sleeping draught? A sedative?

Perhaps Ivan, worried for him, had replaced it with a harmless placebo.

“…Does it matter?”

Whatever the powder was, it would be enough, so long as it dulled the fever that threatened to kill him.

He was just about to lift the glass to his lips when a hurried knock rang out and the oak doors burst open with a crack. The man who strode in was his brother, Hazel.

He must have arrived only moments ago, as the damp scent of the wind still clung to him.

“You came quickly.”

“Yes. I rode without rest. But you—”

Hazel fell silent the moment he caught sight of Aiden’s bare upper body. His green eyes, strikingly similar to her own, flicked up and gradually darkened.

The composure on Hazel’s face crumpled into something strained and miserable.

Aiden, who had been staring at him expressionlessly, finally spoke in a casual tone as though it were of no consequence at all.

“I summoned one of the family elders from Czernok. He’s handling the affairs. Hazel, there’s nothing for you to worry about.”

“You think that means I won’t worry?”

Hazel snatched the wine glass from Aiden’s hand, tipping its contents out of the window. He threw away the medicine, then finished the wine in the bottle, before finally turning back to face her.

“Starting tomorrow, Caleb will begin his education. I’ve hired tutors.”

“My son takes after me. He’s a delinquent!”

Hazel ground the words out between his teeth.

“My son will become the Viscount of Oitbern. Not the next Duke of Strilland. He has no need for heir’s training.”

“……”

“That position would be too much for him.”

A wastrel worrying about his own son.

Aiden let out a faint scoff.

“…You’re not planning to die, are you?”

“You sound just like Ivan.”

“Look at what you’re doing. Please, Aiden. Don’t.”

“Why.”

The eyes that met his were gentle.

After a brief hesitation, Hazel muttered.

“Because I love you.”

“You’ve grown fond of spouting nonsense.”

“I mean it.”

In a voice devoid of heat, Aiden spoke the thoughts he had already settled upon.

“Until Caleb comes of age, he’ll need someone to stand behind him. I’ll endure until then.”

“And after that?”

“Who knows. I’ll think about it when the time comes. Caleb will inherit your estate anyway, won’t he? Consider it a quality education.”

“Why Caleb…?”

His brother could not finish the question.

What Hazel wanted to ask—but could not bring himself to say—was likely—

“Hazel, I have no intention of taking another heir.”

“You’re still young. At any time—”

“No. It cannot be anyone but her.”

“……”

He had said nothing extraordinary, yet Hazel looked as though he might break down in tears.

“…It has to be Sveta.”

Though his voice was low, the meaning was unmistakable.

At once, Aiden called for the head maid.

The moment he rose slowly and slipped on his robe, a polite knock sounded.

“Master, you called for me?”

“Come in.”

Meriette stepped closer and stood with her hands folded, waiting for his command.

“From today onward, you will personally attend to the Viscount and Viscountess of Oitbern and my nephew in the east wing.”

“Master…”

Meriette’s voice trailed off, her expression hardening.

Hazel raked a hand roughly through his hair. He paced the room with his hands on his hips, repeating the same broken words.

“Aiden, you… You really…”

“……”

The familiar heat burned behind his eyes. It felt as though scarlet ants were swarming there, gnawing at the edges of his vision.

He was tired.

All he wanted was to rest.

To hold his woman — the one who carried that soft, distant fragrance: Sveta. He missed her.

The moment he thought of her, Aiden finally understood the true nature of the consuming heat.

It was grief.

***

“The Duke of Strilland’s mistress is dead.”

That Baron Luce’s daughter had been eaten by wolves was the most sensational rumor in Renan’s social circles that year.

Lady Luce’s tearful laments only served to fuel the gossip, of course.

The Duke of Strilland did not return until the summer, during which time he did not appear at any official functions.

His continued seclusion only fueled the speculation. Throughout autumn and well into winter, the ducal household remained silent.

Unsurprisingly, no formal announcement was ever made regarding the dissolution of his engagement to Alyona Matwood.

“Why is this taking so long?”

Alyona paced the drawing room, feeling agitated and restless. She had arrived at the ducal estate unannounced, knowing full well that he would refuse to see her.

And yet, she had come anyway.

She had to stop the engagement from being called off.

In truth, she despised him.

Even now, whenever she remembered the incident with the gold purse, she could feel her face flushing. The memory still filled her with such intense fury that it nearly drove her mad.

But she had resolved to give Aiden one final chance.

Because he was Strilland.

The man who would make her shine.

The man who was meant to be hers.

After letting out a long, measured sigh, Alyona slowly turned her head.

“I was told you summoned me, my lady.”

The maid who had just entered the drawing room bowed politely.

“You’re the one who burns sleeping incense in his bedchamber, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Use this oil tonight instead.”

“……”

Alyona held out a small vial. A flicker of unease crossed the maid’s face.

“It was discreetly imported from Sweenia. Very fine quality. It will greatly benefit his health.”

“But…”

Meeting the maid’s hesitant gaze, Alyona deliberately let the ring slip from her finger.

“Oh dear. I’ve dropped my ring. Would you pick it up for me?”

“Yes, my lady.”

The maid retrieved the large diamond ring and extended it back with visible tension.

Instead, Alyona forced the vial of oil into her trembling hand.

“That ring is yours now. If you burn this oil in his censer tonight, I might even happen to drop my earrings.”

“……”

“They would be yours as well.”

Noticing the greed gradually filling the maid’s eyes, Alyona curved her lips into a smile.

***

Dressed in a negligee as thin as a cicada’s wings, Alyona carefully opened the door to the duke’s bedchamber.

‘…What is this?’

The wax from hundreds of candles had melted, streaming down their holders and hardening into grotesque stalactites along the stands and on the floor.

She frowned at this bizarre sight.

As she approached the canopy bed, she felt as though the air were growing thinner.

Was it the fragrance intended to stimulate the senses?

The scent seeped into her lungs, loosening her nerves. Her breathing became uneven and her cheeks flushed.

Finally, she reached the bed and took a deep breath. Carefully lifting the canopy, she saw that he was not there.

“Wh-what is this?”

Startled, she scanned the room and noticed a door leading to an adjoining chamber.

She stepped inside.

“…Who is it.”

Leaning against the windowsill, he asked in a low, husky voice.

Perhaps it was the effect of the oil—Aiden’s expression, too, seemed languid.

“It’s me.”

“……”

“Aiden.”

His eyes, clouded like the surface of ice, overlapped hers in a dazed stare.

“…I missed you.”

“……”

A low sigh escaped him.

With a hazy expression, Alyona let her gaze travel over her man.

He had thighs as sturdy as a warhorse’s, a torso as solid as armor, and a handsome face. Beneath his half-lowered lids, his green eyes gleamed with dangerous allure.

Tonight, he looked slack, like a snapped bowstring.

In the presence of his unmarred beauty, her entire body burned.

This man belonged to her.

Slowly, she whispered.

“Your woman has come.”

“……”

As she uttered the words she had only ever dared to think, her heart began to pound uncontrollably. Drawing closer, she slipped her arms into the soft silk robe he was wearing.

Her hands met the hard plane of his back, ridged with scars.

‘I thought he was a noble man without a single blemish…’

The scars hinted at a savage nature, which only served to heighten her excitement.

She raised her nails and lightly dragged them across his back.

Aiden did not move away.

He did not push her away.

Encouraged, Alyona let her hands slide lower.

Gripping his firm hips, she pressed her body tightly against his. His skin was hot.

“Ah, Aiden…”

She had finally crossed the line that he had drawn and redrawn so many times.

This was what Alyona had wanted.

By the time she left the bedchamber the following morning, her father, who had been notified in advance, would be waiting for her.

‘Father will take care of the aftermath.’

She was still the duke’s fiancée. The engagement was to be broken off, but not just yet.

If they were to spend the night together while still engaged, it would have far greater significance than if she were merely his mistress.

From a conservative perspective, they would be considered husband and wife in all but name.

Even her father, who had done little more than coax and persuade thus far, would have no choice but to protest forcefully.

‘Then the House of Strilland will have no choice but to yield.’

Alyona recalled the document that had been notarized at the neutral temple.

Was her bond with Aiden not already guaranteed by the family seals and God Himself?

According to their original plans, they should have been married by now.

If anything, this would merely delay their wedding night.

‘Wedding night.’

Enveloped in that strange heat, Alyona exhaled against his chest, rubbing her cheek against his stony hardness.

As she moved her hand forward, a brutal force pushed her away.

“Ah!”

Thrown violently to the floor, Alyona’s vision caught on the shattered wineglass and the empty vial.

‘It wasn’t the oil… He took something else?’

Startled, she lifted her head to look at him.

His face was parched and almost lifeless, and he looked extremely tired.

His gaze did not rest on her at all. It was as though he were staring at a wall. At something inanimate.

That expression struck somewhere deep inside her.

Then, the man’s crimson lips slowly parted, which had been closed until now.