It felt like nothing less than a rebuke. Perhaps it was a punishment for tarnishing the noble Duke’s name.

“This will be a good chance for you to learn responsibility.”

Maybe that was why Aiden’s cold words still echoed in her ears.

Sveta obediently lowered herself, placing her knees on the floor.

“Of course, Madam.”

“……”

Elise’s eyes widened slightly, as though she had not expected such compliance. Yet soon enough, she offered her feet to Sveta.

With delicate care, Sveta poured water over the tops of her feet and gently rubbed them clean.

“How does that feel?”

“……”

Their gazes met. In that instant, Elise’s wrinkled eyes curved in wicked amusement, as though she had been waiting for this moment.

She pressed both feet hard against the rim of the porcelain basin. The basin tipped and water suddenly spilled out. The liquid mercilessly soaked into the folds of Sveta’s skirt.

“Oh dear. It’s an accident.”

“……”

Her gaze bore down on Sveta, probing and curious. It was the kind of petty cruelty with which a child might torment an ant for fun.

Utterly juvenile.

Faced with this childish malice, Sveta’s lips curved faintly. For some reason, the sensation it stirred within her was strangely complex.

Beth used to be that way, too…

Up until she was about ten, Beth often tormented Sveta with one mischief or another.

“I’m sorry, Sveta. I was too childish back then. Will you forgive me?”

Beth had carried the regret with her for years and had offered countless apologies.

This was the first time that anyone had cared enough about her feelings to apologise. That alone had moved her deeply.

And so, the lady’s petty cruelty now stirred both a small sorrow and a vast longing. In that moment, Sveta ached for Beth’s absence.

“Best you stand up now.”

Elise urged, pulling Sveta from her thoughts.

“Bring me tea.”

“…Me?”

“Who else is here, if not you?”

“…Yes, Madam.”

Still feeling a little dazed, Sveta made her way to the kitchen. Thankfully, the maids were kind. In no time, they had set out a silver tray bearing a round teapot and two teacups with gold rims.

Sveta balanced the tray and returned to Elise with it.

“Bayton tea is so sought after one can hardly drink it these days.”

“It does smell wonderful, Madam.”

Sveta carefully tilted the pot and began to pour. As the amber liquid trickled softly into the cup, a familiar fragrance rose up. She realized, her heart fluttering foolishly, that it was the same tea that the duke had once ordered her to drink.

“Ugh…!”

Elise suddenly grimaced, spitting the tea straight onto Sveta’s dress.

“It’s far too strong. Bring another one.”

“…Yes.”

The flat reply was met with a disapproving click of Elise’s fan against her palm — sharp, deliberate slaps.

Brushing her damp front, Sveta returned with fresh tea.

“Oh dear. Would you pick that up for me?”

“Of course, Madam.”

This time, it was a cube of sugar that had fallen onto the floor. She had almost come to expect such petty antics by now. In fact, she almost thought Elise was being merciful for not demanding that she lick it clean like a dog.

But, as she bent down to pick it up, cold tea suddenly poured down her face. Elise had poured the tea over her head.

At least it wasn’t hot; the long walk from the kitchen had cooled it down.

Sveta stared blankly as the fallen sugar dissolved in the spreading puddle.

“My wrist isn’t what it used to be.”

“……”

Who would have believed that the second most important woman in Aetania, after the queen, would stoop to such antics? They were no better than the pranks of a wild child.

A hollow breath escaped Sveta’s lips.

At the same time, a sharp sigh sounded from behind her.

“…Ha!”

“Why are you here?”

Elise asked, her tone brittle with disdain.

“I’ve come to take my woman.”

The voice was low and even, carrying an air of finality. The sound of his unhurried footsteps and the weight of his scent were familiar and unmistakable.

Aiden.

Her heart leapt helplessly as he approached. He slowly and deliberately closed his hand over her wrinkled fingers. The stream of water falling onto Sveta’s head stopped at once.

◯◯◯

An hour earlier, in the duke’s study.

“Quite the fit of jealousy, isn’t it? Firing a stable boy just for exchanging a word with your woman.”

Ivan had a tendency to exaggerate things like this.

Yet Aiden had never despised him for it. Perhaps that was precisely why they remained friends.

“……”

As always, Aiden responded to such nonsense with silence.

Yet the report that followed from Failin was impossible to ignore. It had clearly struck a nerve.

“Madam has summoned the young lady again today, just as she did yesterday, my lord.”

“For what purpose this time?”

“She only said it was something urgent.”

“…What urgent matter could there possibly be.”

She probably hadn’t had breakfast yet. She always woke up late, getting up around midday to eat. He could easily guess why his mother had demanded his mistress as soon as she woke up.

‘So she thinks she’s found my weakness.’

A hollow laugh slipped across his lips.

‘Weakness? What weakness.’

She was a woman he could discard at any time.

Having failed to persuade the Queen, she was now redundant — a false mistress destined to die once the promised year was over. His mother was merely venting her fury in the wrong place.

And her cruelty? At most, it would be petty.

Would Sveta Luce even raise an eyebrow at such childish torment? Hardly. Not after she had stood up to him so boldly the previous day.

There was no reason for him to interfere.

“Anything else?”

“Nothing, my lord.”

“Go, then.”

Failin bowed low and withdrew.

Aiden poured himself a glass of white wine and sat at his desk. Watching him, Ivan suddenly asked:

“When was it you said you’d be leaving for Czernok?”

“Two weeks from now.”

“Mm. You’d better make peace with the young lady before you do that. Otherwise, you’ll regret it later.”

“……”

“You won’t answer, as always. But deep down you know I’m right!”

Ivan puffed out his round cheeks, muttering in annoyance.

“Leave.”

“You didn’t see her expression yesterday. She really looked hurt.”

Still grumbling, Ivan set down the list of medicinal herbs to be brought in through Czernok’s port. Then he shuffled out reluctantly.

Aiden tilted his crystal glass and fixed his gaze on the desk. His vivid green eyes skimmed the documents quickly at first, then more slowly, repeatedly lingering on the same line.

‘He said it was an wounded expression…’

But all he could recall was the way she laughed. Laughing so freely with the stable boy.

“What wound.”

And yet, it was strange. Why had both Failin and Ivan shown her such favor?

After all, she was going to die in a year.

Being kind to her was pointless generosity. Empty compassion.

He leaned back in his chair and looked up at the clear sky beyond the tall glass window. As if by reflex, he thought of her eyes: sky-blue, restless and wandering.

Those were the same eyes she had turned on him when they drank tea together that day.

“…Perhaps I’ll let her live.”

Aiden recalled pressing the crushed orange to her lips. He remembered how she had obediently taken it, how the tips of her ears had flushed red, and how her cheeks had burned with the same hue.

When had he become so soft?

Realizing how frayed his resolve had become, Aiden sneered at himself.

Finally rising, he stretched out his long legs and checked the time.

‘I have some time to spare.’

And so, on the way to Madam’s chambers, one thought circled endlessly in his mind:

He could kill her at any time. Nothing had changed.

This step, every step, was driven by impulse alone.

At the end of the corridor leading to his mother’s rooms, Aiden caught sight of Sveta, who was soaked through and dripping with water as she walked.

He had not yet decided whether to intervene, so he slipped back into the shadows of a pillar.

Moments later, she emerged again, balancing a tea set in her hands; the stains on her dress were darker than before.

Aiden’s reaction was instinctive, almost primal: a sharp sense of violation.

Hurting her himself was one thing. But when another hand dared to touch her, he felt sick.

“Ridiculous.”

Sveta went back inside, tea set once again balanced in her hands.

For the last time, Aiden asked himself if this was worth it.

It was not.

But she was his. And that meant no one else had the right to touch her.

Resolving himself, Aiden pushed open the chamber door without hesitation.

“What are you doing here?”

Elise Strilland’s voice was sharp with outrage.

“I’ve come to take my woman.”

Even as he crossed the room towards her, Elise was still holding the teapot above Sveta’s head.

Aiden snatched it out of her hand.

“So this is how you waste fine tea.”

He said this coldly, then threw the pot behind him without a second thought.

The sharp crash echoed through the room, heightening the tension. Elise’s wrinkled hand trembled as she held her fan.

“Seeing my son at this time of day is so unusual! What a rare event!”

“Indeed, Mother.”

He pulled Sveta up by her arm. Her arm felt fragile, as though it might snap beneath his grasp. Her face was flushed, but he could not tell whether this was due to humiliation or the heat of the scalding water.

None of it pleased him. Not her reed-like arm, not her flushed cheeks, not his mother’s dagger-like glare and not the sordid scene as a whole.

“We’ll be leaving at once.”

It was a command. But Sveta hesitated, unable to take a step.

“What are you doing. Move.”

“……”

A peculiar look of triumph bloomed on Elise’s face.

“I’ve been unwell, Sveta was tending to me.”

“Why would my mistress act as a nursemaid?”

“If she shares your bed, then she is as family. I’m teaching her how to serve her elders.”

Aiden’s crimson lips twisted into a crooked smile.

“Since when is a mistress family?”

“……”

“She is nothing more than a woman who warms my bed.”