“…Duke?”

His neat eyebrows had lost their shape, and he looked at me with contempt. He looked confused, caught somewhere between anger and bewilderment.

“Did I… do something wrong?”

“…The one at fault is your father.”

“Then why…”

“Do I need a reason?”

It had been nothing more than a whim.

It was like casting aside a straw doll that had lost its novelty, or discarding a once-cherished pebble whose shine had suddenly faded.

The humiliation seared her, and her eyes burned with the sense that she herself had been deemed worthless. To conceal it, Sveta turned her head away.

But only for a moment.

Knock, knock, knock.

The brisk sound of knocking was followed by the door bursting open.

“…Come in.”

The duke’s permission, albeit late, was irrelevant in the face of the sound of heavy, hurried footsteps echoing inside.

It was Ivan, the physician whom the duke had sent for earlier.

“Sorry—I should have come sooner…”

But the sight before him—the bedridden Sveta, and Aiden sitting half-n*ked—made him drop the silver tray he was carrying.

Clang—!

The sharp sound split through the air. The physician’s frantic eyes darted about, and he exclaimed in shock:

“It was real… It really was! But how?”

“….”

“No, no, that’s not it. My ointment must have worked. That’s it, right?”

“Impossible.”

“Not true? Then how on earth—?”

His calm tone contrasted with the physician’s frantic babbling.

‘He seemed like such a composed man.’

Sveta thought, revising her impression of him. From quiet and proper, he had become a little amusing and scatterbrained.

When she pulled the blanket up to cover her exposed skin, the doctor finally realized his mistake and bowed his head. Even that, done in silence, felt oddly noisy.

“Just give the medicine and leave.”

“Ah… yes, yes, of course.”

Ivan fumbled open his medicine box, placed the pills on the silver tray, and offered it forward. Once Aiden picked up only the pills with his fingertips, Ivan muttered something under his breath and quickly slipped out of the room.

The thick muscles of his throat shifted slowly as he swallowed.

Turning her gaze away from him, Sveta asked.

“Did you show yourself to the physician on purpose?”

“You’ll have to endure this a few more times.”

“….”

“Remember—no one must know of our arrangement.”

“Not even Sir Failin?”

After a short silence, he answered stiffly.

“When I say no one, I mean no one.”

“….”

“Finish it.”

She only realized that she had left his bandages half done when Aiden raised his arm again.

“This time, don’t move.”

“….”

Even with his upper body partially concealed by the fresh bandages, his taut muscles retained their commanding presence.

He draped a grey silk robe over himself and lit the censer on the bedside table with slow, deliberate movements. The room was immediately filled with a heavy, sweet fragrance that surrounded her.

“It’s a sleeping incense.”

A dismissal, clearly.

“Yes… rest well.”

Sveta replied softly as she stepped down from the bed. The duke was already lying back, looking languid and drowsy.

“Her Majesty has invited us both to the Spring Banquet.”

“Ah.”

“Are you not afraid?”

“Not everyone can draw their bow at such a distant target, like you, my lord.”

“….”

“When I begged for my life, I never expected Her Majesty would want to see me herself. That’s why… I am afraid.”

For once, he let out a laugh. It was closer to a scoff, but the upward curve of his lips was dangerously beautiful.

Sveta found herself staring at them for a moment before speaking on impulse.

“I want to ask you something.”

“…Go on.”

“They say you use a rare horn bow, don’t you?”

“….”

“But the bow you aimed at me was only a wooden practice bow. And you had only one arrow. Why… why did you do that? Did you truly mean to—”

His half-closed eyes snapped open, sharp as blades. The duke’s hand shot out and seized Sveta’s wrist in a crushing grip.

She toppled forward instantly, falling hard to her knees.

“A wooden bow is more than enough to pierce your heart.”

His hand clamped down on her shoulder, tight enough that she wondered if it might break her. A cry escaped her lips.

“Ah…!”

“It would be wise not to jump to conclusions again.”

“…It hurts.”

And just as suddenly as it came, the pressure eased. She sprang up as if flung back.

Closing his eyes slowly, the duke said.

“Return to your place.”

‘My place…’

She crossed to the sofa at the far end of the room in silence. Her shoulder and pulled arm ached.

He was both gentle and savage. Tender and cruel.

There was no way that all these contradictions could be genuine. Surely the kindness was his true self, while the cruelty was a mask he wore only for her?

Her heavy eyelids fluttered under the weight of misery. The sleep incense seeped deep into her lungs, pulling her down. Soon, she drifted off to sleep.

◯◯◯

Aiden awoke from a shallow sleep.

‘Has the incense burned out?’

Without it, he could never rest. This meant that, while Sveta Luce was staying in his chambers, he had spent every night awake.

Knowing how hard he was struggling, Ivan had undoubtedly prescribed a potent dosage — more than the standard amount. The dull throb at the back of his skull was proof enough of that.

“….”

He stretched and rose, unwilling to lie again in a bed stained with blood.

Instead, his gaze followed the faint sound of steady breathing.

In the dim light of the chamber, her face shone pale and innocent, as if gathering all the light there was.

“Why… why did you do that? Did you truly mean to—”

Had he meant to kill her?

Why had he chosen the wooden bow?

The small lips that had asked him that question parted softly with each breath.

His fists clenched.

Whenever he touched this woman, he initially felt a sense of relief, which would suddenly turn into an unbearable loathing.

She reminded him of death, of his sister’s death. It was as though her very existence accused him of being the one who had survived alone.

So yes. He had meant to kill her. He had to.

However, it had unsettled him to aim at such a fragile, trembling woman. That was all. It was a pang of conscience that had stopped him.

“Mm…”

She stirred with a faint sound. Her eyelids quivered, and then those sky-colored eyes opened. Their gazes locked at once.

“When morning comes, there is somewhere we must go.”

But to her, it sounded strangely gentle, and Sveta’s heart eased at once. Foolish as it was, she knew herself well enough: no matter how harsh his words, she would always cling to the warmth hidden between them.

It was a relationship tilted beyond measure.

Mocking herself for starving after his affection, she asked.

“Where are we going?”

“You are going to become a luxurious mistress.”

‘Are we going shopping?’

Whenever an invitation to a banquet arrived, Dalia’s first instinct was always to go shopping. Sveta guessed the duke’s intentions from this.

She stood up, straightened her disheveled clothes, and draped a soft shawl around her shoulders. Then she looked up at the duke.

“You, my lord, will play the role of a man hopelessly in love with his extravagant mistress.”

His well-groomed brows twitched for a moment.

“You must smile and speak as if no other thoughts exist in your head.”

“You must smile at me too, my lord.”

“But you must never take Strilland lightly.”

“…I understand.”

Her answer was swallowed at once by his unspoken demand.

Behave utterly as a mistress would.

◯◯◯

On the southern bank of the Brimiya River, which flowed through the capital of Aetania, Renan, was a district filled with luxury shops.

On Uniburn Street, famed for selling the most extravagant dresses, jewels and indulgences, a splendid carriage came to a halt.

Rene Pedy, the shop owner, stood at the front of her entire staff, who were assembled in neat formation. She drew a deep breath.

‘Good heavens! The rumors were true, and he really came here himself.’

Like an arrow flying above the rolling waves, the gleaming crest carved into the carriage left no doubt. Strilland.

But the longer the door remained closed, the tighter the tension wound itself around her chest.

“I heard His Grace the Duke of Strilland has taken a mistress. Could she be inside?”

“That mistress will be Her Majesty’s rival then, won’t she?”

“A rival? Don’t be absurd.”

“Of course she is. One of the queen’s conditions for marriage was that His Grace must never stray. If that isn’t love, then what is?”

The attendants whispered nonstop.

Rene knew she should silence them, but the gossip was far too intriguing; she couldn’t help but prick her ears.

“The first condition is that she must be pure. Secondly, she must quickly provide him with an heir. What was the third condition again?”

“Right, what was it?”

Rene knew, and her tongue itched with the urge to say it aloud.

‘She must become his unwavering pillar of support.’

To overthrow the brother who had staged a rebellion and stolen the throne, the queen had borrowed the power of both the Strilland dukedom and the neighboring kingdom of Prisada.

In other words, her domestic power was far from secure.

And she longed to shed the stain of being known as the young queen who invited foreign hands to place her on the throne.

That was why she clung so desperately to this marriage. The reason whispers about her conditions spread so openly.

‘A warning, no doubt: do not covet His Grace.’

A warning sent to every noble maiden.

Which made it all the more shocking that the duke had gone and flaunted a mistress.

“What kind of woman could she be?”

The sudden words from an attendant named Betty struck Rene like a dart.

‘Yes. Just what kind of woman is she?’

Fortunately, they did not have to wait long.

Soon, the Duke of Strilland descended from the carriage. As always, he was immaculately dressed, fine Muwieosan leather gloves encasing his hands.

And that face, which was too strikingly handsome not to draw every gaze, remained unchanged.

With formal courtesy, he turned to escort the woman behind him.

“Ah…”

Rene felt her whole body go rigid the moment she saw the mistress take his hand and step down.