He had assumed it was an act — an exaggerated performance designed to extricate himself from a difficult situation. After all, it was absurd to drown in water that was so shallow. That was why Aiden hadn’t pulled her out straight away.

But beneath the rippling surface, her pale face was etched with raw terror and bitter resignation. The triumphant smirk on the face of the maid standing nearby told him everything he needed to know.

“…So that’s how it is.”

“In any case, she’ll wake once she’s had a good, deep sleep. Do comfort her well.”

As Ivan left the bedchamber, Aiden’s half-vacant gaze traced Sveta’s features.

“Her lips… they’re a bit—”

The bluish tinge to her lips made her look almost dead.

‘Is she really OK?’

He carefully pressed his fingers to the space beneath her nose. Her soft lips yielded slightly under his touch. Finally, a warm breath escaped against his skin, and only then could he regain his perfectly composed expression.

By the following morning, Sveta had not woken up. Only the occasional movement of her lips and the subtle rise and fall of her shoulders reassured him that she was in a deep sleep.

He spent the entire night seated in the armchair by her bed.

When Aiden finally arrived in his study at the start of the day, Dennis’s report pierced his drowsy haze.

“My lord, a maid named Mary has been found dead.”

“…And who is that?”

Aiden asked indifferently.

“The maid from the laundry room—the one who caused a commotion yesterday, my lord.”

“Ah.”

Only then did he remember. Although he could not remember her face, he could still picture that devilish smirk and malicious expression etched in his mind.

“She was found stabbed at the entrance of the laundry room. It’s a murder case, my lord.”

“…Who would dare.”

Who would dare commit murder on the ducal estate? The death of a maid was not what mattered here; what mattered was the audacity of spilling blood within his domain.

“For now, we are interrogating the maids who might have borne resentment after their dismissal.”

“……”

Aiden furrowed his brow, pouring white wine into the crystal glass set in the corner of his desk. The sweet yet bitter liquid slid down his throat as he gave his orders in his usual calm tone.

“Keep this quiet.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“If word of this reaches my mistress, I’ll hold you accountable.”

“…I understand.”

Dennis’s face, already pale, turned even paler. He hastily withdrew.

Left alone, Aiden sank deep into his chair and gazed beyond the wide window at the narrow hedge maze garden outside.

The duke’s study was unusually located on the ground floor, and its design was equally unique. Three walls closed it in, while one entire side was glass, enabling the duke to see anyone approaching while remaining safely inside.

The architecture reflected his anxieties all too well.

Suddenly becoming aware of his unease, Ivan remembered the nonsense he had dismissed earlier.

“When you’re with her, you feel safe.”

He couldn’t deny it. But he could not bring himself to admit it, either.

After all, she was the daughter of his enemy.

Reason screamed that it was impossible. That was why he refused to acknowledge it. Yet deep down, he already knew. He felt something for her.

Whenever Sveta looked hurt, his mind told him to be satisfied, but his mouth turned bitter. Whenever he touched her, he found it repulsive enough to want to pull away; yet he could never bring himself to let go.

No, even worse — his body trembled. His flesh stirred.

It was desire. Plain, unmistakable desire.

Objectively speaking, Sveta Luce was beautiful. Her fragile yet defiant manner drew the eye. In its own way, her honesty was almost pleasing.

It was only natural that desire would arise. He was a man, after all.

And she was his mistress. There was no reason not to claim what was already his.

Had she not approached him herself, declaring that she wanted to be his mistress? This was her choice as well, then.

Aiden smirked.

Now, nothing could restrain him.

◯◯◯

When Sveta opened her eyes, she was greeted by an unfamiliar ceiling.

The embossed plaster patterns resembled either arrowheads or closed flower buds. She stared blankly for a moment, then slowly turned her head.

A voice, as though waiting for her, spoke up.

“My lady, you are awake.”

A middle-aged woman with tightly coiled, platinum-blonde hair and a narrow nose bowed politely. Her thin mouth gave her a stern appearance.

Sveta pushed herself up; her back was stiff with tension.

“I am Meriette, the head maid. I’ve come to apologize for the disgraceful incident yesterday.”

“……”

Sveta struggled to take in the bewildering turn of events.

The head maid seemed to misinterpret her silence, bowing even deeper.

“We will ensure there are no further inconveniences in matters such as laundry. Until then, I shall personally attend to you, my lady.”

“…Thank you.”

“……”

Meriette clasped her hands together and waited with gentle patience—as though expecting Sveta to speak, or to issue some kind of order.

“Where am I?”

Sveta swallowed hard as she asked the question. Although she had managed to speak with a semblance of authority, the words felt awkward on her tongue.

“This will be your chamber from now on, my lady.”

“My… chamber?”

“Yes. Through that door, you may enter His Grace’s bedchamber directly.”

“……”

Meriette pointed toward a small oak door at the side of the room.

“It has no lock, so you may come and go at any time.”

“Ah…”

Her jaw went slack on its own. She could not make sense of it.

‘The last thing I remember is defying him and then falling into the water.’

“The indoor garments you purchased from the dress shop arrived this morning. They have been placed in the wardrobe, so please let us know when you would like to change.”

“……”

“Your belongings will be moved in before noon.”

“…Yes. Thank you.”

When her eyes met the head maid’s again, Sveta dismissed her with quiet politeness.

“You may go.”

“Very well, my lady.”

Meriette withdrew with a brisk, unembellished stride. Watching her go, Sveta rose from the bed.

The Duke’s main residence was nothing like the West Wing, where she had previously lived.

Madam Elise, who remained secluded in the West Wing, favored quiet above all else. Her servants moved like shadows to avoid notice, and the interiors reflected her austere taste.

The main residence, however…

“…It’s dazzling.”

That was Sveta’s first impression.

It was as though an entire gold mine had been melted down to create it. Wherever she looked, she saw gold: delicate gilded carvings; carpets so fine that walking on them felt almost sinful; and shimmering gold leaf inlaid into the wooden panels along the walls.

When she had once crept through here like a thief to the duke’s chamber, she had never noticed its overwhelming grandeur. Now, it took her nearly a week just to grow accustomed to the sheer opulence.

As her surroundings changed, so did the way people treated her.

Servants stopped to bow whenever she passed. The mocking whispers she used to overhear had ceased entirely.

‘And yet…’

Something felt off.

Days passed and the Duke neither summoned her nor came to see her. Although only a wall separated their chambers, the distance between them felt immeasurable.

She felt like a buoy floating alone in the middle of an enchanted, windless lake.

The loneliness weighed heavily on her.

◯◯◯

“His Grace wishes to take tea with you.”

Receiving the head maid’s message was like being lifted from the water once more.

Following Meriette, Sveta entered the maze garden. After passing through a corridor of clipped green hedges, they reached a small, round clearing.

Under a gazebo covered in lavender-coloured wisteria, Aiden sat perfectly upright. He must have sensed her approach, but he did not look up from the thick stack of documents in front of him.

“You called for me, my lord?”

“Sit.”

When Aiden set the papers aside, his aide gathered the stack of documents and stepped back with the head maid.

“Do you like black tea?”

“…Not particularly.”

“Drink it anyway.”

With an impassive face, he tipped the teapot and slid the filled cup toward her.

“Sugar?”

He asked, holding a cube delicately between silver tongs. Sveta slowly shook her head.

“I don’t like it.”

A displeased crease formed between his brows.

With a soft plop, the sugar cube dropped into the tea, dissolving in mocking swirls.

‘Then why bother asking me in the first place…’

As Sveta fiddled idly with her cup, his crimson lips shaped silent words.

“Drink it.”

“……”

She obeyed, taking a sip from the cup. Only then did the stiffness at the corner of his mouth soften into a faint smile.

Aiden raised a crystal glass of pale, straw-colored wine and drained it.

She couldn’t read him, and it gnawed at her. The sweet, fragrant tea felt coarse and sharp as it slid down her throat.

His beauty. His imposing presence.

It all left her uneasy.

As she fidgeted with the handle of her cup, the head maid brought over two large oranges.

“Oranges. Do you like them?”

“……”

He seemed strange today. Was there a hidden meaning? Was it a test? Was there some other plan lurking beneath the surface?

Her thoughts tangled into knots. She pressed her lips together and narrowed her eyes, trying to read his intentions. But, of course, there was nothing to see.

“……”

Frowning again, Aiden picked up an orange. With gloved hands, he began tearing at the peel, clumsily and forcefully.

Sveta’s eyes widened in shock. She had thought he was good at everything.

‘Has he never peeled fruit himself before…?’

“My lord…”

Finally, he lifted a half-mangled orange segment, juice dripping from the crushed flesh.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

His strength was such that the fruit was nearly pulp in his hand, liquid running down his fingers.

“It’s nothing.”

He held out the misshapen piece.

“Eat.”

“…Thank you.”

Flustered, Sveta steadied herself and reached out timidly. But Aiden shook his head sharply once.

“With your mouth.”