“Step aside.”

“I refuse.”

Flames flared in his father’s eyes.

“……”

“Then it is my turn to be cut down. Go on. Try it.”

In an instant, Aiden’s expression turned cold and unreadable as he faced his father.

His neatly combed-back hair. His upright posture. The unyielding spirit in his bearing—so strikingly similar to the man before him.

“I did not pass the ducal seat to you so you could disgrace yourself with something so filthy.”

“I am well aware.”

“If you are aware, then why do you hold something so vile in your arms?”

Aiden lowered his gaze to Sveta, who lay crumpled on the floor.

Barely conscious, she weakly reached out towards Pailin. Her slender arm trembled in the air like an arrow shivering mid-flight.

When he saw the tears streaking down her pale cheeks, Aiden’s brows knitted together sharply. A shadow crossed his face as he turned his icy gaze on his father’s knight and reprimanded him mercilessly.

“How dare you raise your blade against my knight.”

The duke’s voice was low, yet carried undeniable authority. The knight immediately withdrew his sword and stepped back.

“Take Pailin to the physician at once.”

One of the knights guarding the balcony quickly removed his outer coat and draped it over Pailin’s back, hiding the gruesome wounds caused by the blade in the process. Limp and barely conscious, Pailin was carried out through the balcony door without delay.

Finally, Aiden bent down and gathered the trembling Sveta into his arms.

Despite her heavy, ornamented gown, the woman in his arms felt heartbreakingly light.

As her warmth seeped into his chest, he let out a quiet, unsteady breath.

“Did you not hear me?”

“And yet, did I not agree to marry the noble marquis’s daughter?”

“How dare you compare Matwood to the royal family! You carry royal blood.”

“…There are many watching.”

With a subtle gesture, Aiden dismissed the knights. His father’s knight bowed deeply and withdrew, leaving them alone.

A razor-thin tension now stretched between the former duke and his son.

“You arrive and, without hesitation, attempt to kill my partner as though it were some grand display. That is very much like you, Father.”

There had likely been no thought given to the consequences. To his father, it would have been no more significant than crushing a trivial insect beneath his heel.

“Are you so desperate to mingle with the royal family?”

Reading the anger beneath his son’s composed tone, the former duke slowly lowered his sword.

“…It is a place we rightfully deserve.”

“In that case—”

A deep furrow carved itself between the old duke’s brows.

“You may remarry into the royal family yourself.”

“What?”

“Carry on that noble bloodline personally. And leave what is mine untouched.”

Aiden stepped closer and whispered.

“As you well know, I do not forgive those who lay hands on what belongs to me.”

The old duke’s stubborn lips twitched.

“Even if they are family, Father.”

***

After making a grand entrance, Aiden brought the banquet to a close.

He expressed his regret that the evening had ended sooner than expected and extended a special invitation to the Strilland family’s autumn hunting festival. The guests left feeling thoroughly satisfied.

When Aiden entered the corridor adjoining the bedchambers, Ivan had just emerged from Sveta’s room, accompanied by a maid.

“How is she?”

“She’s not injured. Fortunately.”

“…”

“She seems to have been very frightened. I prescribed a sedative to calm her down, so there’s no need to worry.”

Sweat beaded on Ivan’s brow, and he looked deeply exhausted. The sleeve he used to wipe his forehead was stained red with blood — he must have come straight from treating Pailin.

“And Pailin?”

“Thankfully, the wound was to his back, not his abdomen. No organs were damaged, and the muscles are not severely torn. But he will need to focus on recovery for some time.”

“Thank you.”

Ivan gave him a faint, exhausted smile and walked slowly down the corridor. Only after he had turned the corner and disappeared from view did Aiden step into the bedchamber.

The door connecting their rooms seemed smaller than usual tonight. It was no different to how it had been before, yet for some reason it looked pathetically fragile.

Aiden let out a quiet breath, almost scoffing at himself for feeling sorry for something as insignificant as a door.

“Ha…”

Pouring himself a glass of wine, Aiden carried it into the bath.

“If you are aware, then why do you hold something so filthy?”

Filthy. Filthy.

‘Filthy…’

Why did that ordinary word, which he had uttered countless times before without a second thought, provoke such a deep reaction in him now?

In an attempt to scrub away his father’s voice, which clung to his mind like sticky, stubborn mud, he washed himself more thoroughly than usual. When he had finished, he put on a robe and carefully arranged his nightclothes until they were immaculate.

Only then did he cross the threshold into her room.

“…Sveta. Are you asleep?”

“……”

There was no answer.

But her thin back rose and fell unevenly, trembling occasionally.

He carefully climbed onto the bed. As the mattress dipped beneath his weight, her body tilted towards him.

Drawing her into his arms, he gently wiped the tears from her damp cheeks.

“Pailin is safe. And so are you.”

“……”

“And you will remain so. I promise. So please, be at ease.”

His fingers brushing beneath her eyes grew wet again in an instant.

“I will protect you.”

“……”

Aiden continued stroking the face of the woman he loved over and over again until the dark night slowly gave way to a pale, translucent dawn.

***

Close to midnight, the physician paid Dalia a visit.

“His Grace personally sent his attending physician?”

“Yes, madam.”

The physician examining her looked utterly exhausted.

‘To send someone this weary without allowing him rest…’

Dalia was deeply moved by how attentively the duke cared for her.

‘At last, I reap some benefit from having such a daughter.’

Her vanity swelled.

But her delight lasted only a moment.

“What is that blood on your sleeve? Surely not—surely my daughter wasn’t injured?”

Whether or not he was bound by an order of silence from the duke, the physician gave no answer. After administering Dalia’s medicine, which had caused her nervous agitation to flare up again, he quietly took his leave.

The next morning, Dalia went to see Sveta as soon as she woke up.

Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock.

Rapping irritably against the antique oak door, she muttered under her breath without pause.

“She must have been struck by a blade. That blood was surely… Her lovely face mustn’t be scarred. What am I going to do…”

The instant the door opened, Dalia thr*st her foot into the gap.

Yet she could not take a single step inside.

The duke was standing firmly in the doorway.

“Y-Your Grace?”

Dalia’s sharp gaze swiftly swept over his rumpled robe.

His languid voice settled over her like a weight.

“Sveta is asleep.”

“Then last night, Your Grace and she—”

“Thank you for informing me promptly last night.”

“Of course…”

Trailing off, Dalia rose slightly onto her toes, trying to peer past him. But the duke’s broad frame blocked her view completely.

“My daughter—our Sveta—is truly unharmed?”

“She is.”

“Oh, thank heavens.”

Dalia dramatically placed one hand against her forehead and sighed dramatically. She regretted not wearing her usual large teardrop diamond ring. Nevertheless, she was relieved that the duke had at least noticed the smooth, unwrinkled back of her hand — her source of pride.

“There is something for which I must ask your understanding, madam.”

His cool gaze lifted from her hand to her eyes.

A faint trace of lingering sleep pooled in his green irises, lending them an alluringly decadent quality — achingly beautiful and almost suffocating.

Despite the considerable age difference, Dalia felt like a young girl again. Her cheeks flushed.

“Oh my, ask my understanding?”

‘Do as you wish, Your Grace. I would give you anything!’

She swallowed the words and instead offered a radiant smile.

“I would like to assign a maid named Madam Nora to attend Sveta. Would that be acceptable?”

“Madam… Nora?”

“I will assign a separate maid to attend to you, madam.”

“Your Grace will personally… choose a maid for me? Personally?”

“That is correct.”

“It would be my honor!”

Once again, Dalia’s vanity swelled, expanding like the hem of an overinflated skirt.

What expressions would the ladies of society, who looked down on her, wear if they heard this? Just as she was about to relish the delicious image—

“You should return for now. Sveta did not fall asleep until nearly dawn. She will be exhausted.”

“Dawn… Oh my. Of course. Naturally.”

Without another word, the duke closed the door.

It was discourteous to leave a visitor standing at the threshold, but what did that matter? Dalia began walking away with steps as light as a butterfly’s.

‘I thought he was cold, yet he shared a bed with her even on the night of their engagement. There is nothing left to worry about.’

Even when the Baron died and the old Madam was on her deathbed, she survived. She would continue to live in comfort and security for the rest of her life.

She had inherited Baron Luce’s wealth — in fact, she had inherited even more. The Duke of Strilland, one of the richest men on the continent, was firmly on her side.

With years of anxiety finally lifted, a soft melody escaped her lips. As she stepped beyond the main building, she turned back to gaze at the imposing stone structure.

“I should check again tomorrow.”

***

When Sveta woke up in the afternoon, she went straight to Ivan’s clinic. She could not bear to worry about Pailin any longer.

He was lying face down, fast asleep. His usually sun-kissed face was pale.

“Why hasn’t he woken up?”

Ivan, standing nearby, explained.

“He was given a strong painkiller. He will likely remain like this for a while. But he is recovering, so there is no need to worry. Sir Pailin has always had remarkable stamina—and an even stronger will.”

“That is a relief, but still…”

“By the time you return from Czernok with Aiden, he will be as lively as ever. So do not fret.”

Czernok.

Ivan’s words reminded her of the most important matter that she had momentarily forgotten.

Following the former duke’s attack the previous night, Aiden had been on edge. This was evident in the way he held her all night and whispered softly in her ear.

‘I always thought him a man like a drawn blade…’

Yet, at some point, she had started to notice the subtle changes in his mood.

Generous Aiden.

The contented Aiden.

And the anxious Aiden.

He was clearly anxious.

Although he hadn’t locked her in her room, there was no telling what he might do.

‘If he refuses to let me out of his sight even for a moment, then I will have to make him lower his guard.’

“Mr. Bartley. I have a request.”

“Anything.”

“Could you prescribe a strong sleeping draught for me?”