“Speak.”

Aiden slowly filled his glass with wine.

“Shall we question the Zloytan remnants we’ve captured as well?”

“No. I don’t trust those creatures.”

“…Yes, Your Grace.”

“We’ll need to cross-check the informant’s account. Look into whether there are any slaves or prisoners who escaped from Zloytan.”

“Understood.”

He stared at the pale golden liquid in his glass for a moment.

Then he thought of Sveta’s sunset-colored hair, which was said to be the same shade as Beth Gould’s.

The Duke’s estate was beyond Jace Gould’s reach.

‘And yet she claims to be Beth Gould of her own will…’

She must have been close to Beth Gould. That much was certain.

Judging by the marks on her body, it was more plausible that she had been a slave than a servant, and more likely a lady’s maid than a servant.

‘A slave.’

Zloytan was considered a barbaric tribe, partly because of its slaves.

When the Empire fell, slavery was abolished. Yet the Zloytanians clung to this vile custom.

Among those savages, slaves were considered the lowest of the low.

Aiden slowly swirled his drink, his gaze drifting idly through the air.

At the edge of his vision, the radiant crest of Strilland gleamed.

“The noblest among nobles, the exalted House of Strilland.”

That was what they said of him and his family.

His father, Charles Strilland, had taken greater pride in those words than anyone.

“Our bloodline—yours and mine—will remain noble forever.”

Aiden had never fully embraced his father’s beliefs. Yet he had never imagined himself falling for a woman like Sveta, either.

This was why the possibility that Sveta might once have been a slave disturbed him so much. He despised himself for being affected by someone of such lowly status.

And yet, when he recalled the moment she told him she loved him and then lied without hesitation…

It hurt

A dull ache spread along one side of his chest.

Aiden pressed his hand against his heart and forced himself to breathe evenly. Beneath his palm, his heartbeat continued as though nothing had happened: steady, unhurried, and indifferent to the quiet fracture within him.

“There’s no need to summon Ivan.”

“…Pardon?”

Dennis, who had been watching him, widened his eyes in confusion.

“Never mind. You may go.”

The aide bowed and withdrew.

For some reason, the wine tasted unusually bitter that night, and Aiden drank it down again and again.

***

The Duke had never been one for words.

She remembered the day he had made her tell him that she loved him. She also remembered the day he called her a barbarian and turned away from her.

After that night, Aiden had become even more silent.

He would summon her without warning, show her fleeting kindness and then leave her alone for days. Sveta had thought this time would be no different.

But Aiden came to her unfailingly.

Every night. Sometimes even during the day.

This gave her a small, fragile happiness — and an even deeper sorrow.

Once their intimate moments were over, he would rise and leave the bedroom with perfect composure, as though nothing between them had ever meant more than a passing indulgence.

“I love you.”

“……”

“I love you, Your Grace.”

Once she had confessed, she could not take it back.

He did not answer. He was a man of few words.

Gathering her courage, Sveta reached out and stopped Aiden from leaving.

“Tonight… may we sleep together?”

“……”

“I don’t want to be alone.”

She even offered that clumsy excuse. But after a long silence, the answer that returned was simple.

“I am tired.”

Tired of what? Of me? Or are you the one who’s tired?

The missing word in his sentence sent her thoughts spiraling towards the worst possibility.

It sounded almost like You exhaust me.

To hide the way her eyes began to tremble, Sveta lowered her head.

His voice — neither harsh nor gentle — fell evenly over her.

“If you do not wish to be alone, I will send the head maid.”

“No… that won’t be necessary.”

“……”

With slow yet measured steps, he walked away.

Over the fading sound of his footsteps, Beth’s gentle voice rose in her mind like a stain.

“Why would he refuse you as a bedroom slave?”

Sveta was well aware of how Aiden saw her.

Nevertheless, she had once believed that a single gentle glance from him would make her happy. She thought she would gladly give her life for that much alone.

At first, she truly felt that way.

But not anymore.

Now, she found herself wishing that his feelings for her were not merely possessive desire, but something softer and warmer.

She knew it was a foolish hope.

Nevertheless, yearning for even a trace of the warmth that had already faded, she quietly pressed her cheek against the spot where he had been lying, as if it might still hold his memory.

“…I love you.”

She whispered the words weakly into the empty air.

And so she spent the night awake.

By the time the inky-black sky began to bleed into the pale light of dawn, she slowly rose from the bed.

A chest of drawers stood against the wall. She walked towards it and took out the small bottle of medicine that Lady Norma had given her.

Twisting open the narrow cap, she carefully tilted the vial over a cup of water. Drop by drop, the liquid fell, rippling faintly on the surface.

Watching in silence, she lifted the cup and drank without hesitation.

There was nothing unusual about the day. It was no different from any other day.

Only the sudden wave of nausea that followed was different.

“Ugh—!”

Her eyes flew open wide, the rims flushing red with shock.

***

“Your Grace, Viscount Oitbern has sent a letter expressing his gratitude for permitting the visit.”

Aiden skimmed the letter, displaying visible indifference, before handing it back to his aide.

It was from Hazel Strilland, the eldest son of House Strilland.

Its contents, sent earlier by his notoriously libertine brother, were outrageous to say the least.

[My fifth son has been born. This one is legitimate. I would like to present him to you. Grant me permission to visit.]

Just as their mother had disliked Aiden, their father, Charles Strilland, had despised Hazel since childhood.

There was, however, one difference. To some extent, his mother’s resentment towards Aiden was understandable. His father’s hatred of Hazel had no such justification.

Over time, Charles Strilland removed Hazel from his sight altogether, granting him a modest estate on the outskirts of Czernok.

Thus, Hazel became Viscount Oitbern.

He repaid his father’s so-called ‘affection’ in the only way he knew how: thoroughly and without restraint.

Countless mistresses. A string of illegitimate children. A wife of common birth.

Eight daughters. Five sons.

With unsettling diligence, Hazel had devoted himself to building a vast and unmistakable family.

“The blood of Strilland must never be tainted.”

That had been the old duke’s constant refrain.

By bringing his son—born to him by a commoner—to the ducal estate in the capital, Hazel was effectively announcing to all the nobles of Aetania that the blood of Strilland had been irrevocably tainted.

It confirmed that the bloodline had been corrupted.

In other words, it was a direct mockery of the old duke.

‘So this is how he intends to use me.’

Aiden let out a faint, humorless laugh, knowing that his brother’s intentions were obvious. But that was all he would say.

What transpired between his father and brother did not concern him. He permitted the visit.

“Your Grace, we will prepare chambers in the East Wing for the Viscount and his wife.”

Aiden nodded in agreement.

His gaze lingered briefly on the orange sitting on the edge of his desk before he took a few measured sips of white wine.

After reviewing his schedule, he started to check on several ongoing matters. He also asked about the order he had placed days ago.

“Have you found the one who killed that maid?”

“…We are still searching.”

On the day he was informed of Mary the maid’s death, Aiden went to inspect the body himself.

According to the report, her body had been positioned as though on display at the entrance to the laundry room. The curved stab wound he had seen with his own eyes left little room for doubt.

It was Zloytan’s work.

It was the method of those barbarians.

Perhaps it was a warning from Jace Gould intended for him.

Very few would dare commit murder on the Duke’s estate.

But Jace Gould was no ordinary man.

He was a madman who had slaughtered the heirs of royal and noble families across the continent in an attempt to wipe out their bloodlines. He was reckless beyond reason and so unpredictable that calculation itself became meaningless.

Aiden’s green eyes gleamed with a cold, lethal light.

“Reinforce the perimeter of Revenew Forest.”

“Yes. I will deploy additional guards immediately.”

“Reinvestigate the backgrounds of the newly hired maids, especially those assigned near the laundry room.”

Dennis nodded like a white dove.

“Yes. It will be done.”

“Trace every movement from their birth until now. If there is the slightest irregularity, detain them at once.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

Aiden had never lost anything that belonged to him.

Everything that took place within his domain remained firmly under his control, whether great or trivial.

This would be no exception.

It was only a question of time.

And, as always, time was on his side.

Tilting his glass with deliberate ease, Aiden drained the last of the wine and rose to his feet.

With long, unhurried strides, he left the study. As he walked, he lightly tapped the orange in his palm, idly brushing its smooth, unblemished skin with his black, leather-gloved fingers.

“Your Grace, how shall we proceed with the next appointment?”

His aide, who already knew where he was headed, fell in step beside him.

“Postpone it three hours.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

Without hesitating, Aiden turned towards the bedroom. It was the only thing he could hold completely in his hands without gloves — something wholly his own.

He wanted to see her. He wanted to run his hands over her slender back and bury his face in the fragrant hollow of her neck.

“Your Grace, shall Sir Pailin deal with the Zloytan remnants we captured last time?”

“……”

Aiden stopped.

Sensing his mood, Dennis stammered.

“I shall… postpone that matter as well.”

“……”

Aiden continued down the corridor at a relaxed pace, leaving his aide bowed and standing behind him.

Zloytan: Jace Gould. Beth Gould.

And what is mine?

Sveta — my lowborn mistress.

He wanted to dismiss the pull he felt towards her as nothing more than impulse.

But deep down, he knew better.

Was it truly only impulse?

The faint, mocking smile that he had once reserved for Hazel now turned inwards.

Nevertheless, he did not slow his steps.

When he entered Sveta’s bedroom, a warm fragrance drifted from behind the tightly shut bathroom door.

Carried on that scent came the sound of soft laughter.

It rang out like clear water slipping over smooth stones — bright, gentle and untroubled.

For a moment, the light, ticklish sound felt strangely unfamiliar to him.

‘Had she ever laughed aloud for him?’

Something stirred strangely within his chest.