“Perfume?”

“Yeah, the perfume you always wore from the first time we met.”

It was such an absurd statement that she couldn’t answer right away. She had never in her life used perfume—barely even proper cosmetics.

“Every time you came to see me, you wore that scent. I used to think you were unusually mature for your age… But after you became an adult, you stopped wearing it, and I couldn’t help but wonder why. Did they stop making that perfume?”

“I… never wore perfume.”

“No way. The scent was so strong.”

“…Really?”

“Yeah, I could catch the scent from a mile away—thought you’d practically drenched yourself in it. So, they don’t make it anymore?”

At some point, Lucien had pushed his teacup aside and propped his chin on his hand, leaning his elbows on the table. He pressed her for answers with a persistence that bordered on stubbornness.

But Ines had nothing to say—because she had never once worn perfume.

“I really never used perfume. That stuff… it’s expensive. I couldn’t bring myself to ask for it.”

With only three dresses to rotate between, she couldn’t afford perfume—she could barely think of buying new shoes.

“Our storeroom manager’s salary isn’t exactly low, though.”

“…”

Again, Ines couldn’t answer. She couldn’t tell him that most of her pay went straight to her mother.

When she stayed silent, Lucien stared at her for a moment. But soon, as if losing interest, he turned his head away.

They sat in silence, gazing at the roses around them, until the head maid appeared in the distance, walking toward them.

“Ah, is it that time already?”

Lucien pulled a pocket watch from the inside of his jacket to check the time. Ines, catching a glimpse of its design—so similar to her own—let the corners of her lips lift slightly.

“Oh, you just smiled.”

“…I’m human, of course I smile.”

“Try doing that more often. Whenever I see you pass by, you look like a ghost. If you could just glide while moving, it’d be perfect.”

“Hey, did you just call me a ghost…?”

She replied lightly to his teasing remark, but fell silent when she caught the sharp glint in the head maid’s eyes.

“Johanna, she would’ve come back on her own. Why did you go looking for her?”

At Lucien’s question, the head maid stepped closer and answered politely,

“Her Ladyship has asked for Miss Silverdust to be brought to her.”

“My mother? Why?”

“She said there’s something she wishes to request.”

“Is that so?”

Lucien rose from his seat and walked over to Ines. He rested a hand on her shoulder and gave it a light pat as he spoke. Looking up at someone who was nearly one meter ninety tall from a seated position was no easy task.

“You still get along well with my mother. Well, it’s been… what, fourteen years since you and I became friends?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

Because the head maid was present, Ines kept her tone formal, and Lucien’s brow narrowed almost imperceptibly. Still, he said nothing more and withdrew his hand.

It was the kind of casual contact they had shared since childhood, but even that small touch was enough to make her heart flutter.

“Alright, go on. I need to head back in as well.”

He turned to leave before he had finished his sentence, striding away on his long legs until he disappeared from view. Ines watched him go until the head maid nudged her.

“Her Ladyship is waiting. Please hurry.”

“Understood.”

She already knew why the duchess was calling for her—it was nearly time for his rut cycle to begin.

Three years ago, on the day of her academy graduation, she and Lucien had drunk together for the first time alone. She had planned to stay overnight at the ducal residence, so they had spent the evening in comfort.

During her academy years, she had quietly harbored feelings of hurt toward him, but that night, all those grievances had melted away. One drink led to another as they reminisced about the past, and before they knew it, they had both drunk far too much.

That would have been fine—until the moment she tried to return to the guest room, and his rut cycle suddenly began.

It was then that Ines truly had it seared into her mind that he was an Alpha.

According to old records from the time when Alphas, Omegas, and Betas all existed, Alphas were overwhelmingly superior in intelligence and physical ability compared to Betas and Omegas.

For this reason, high-ranking noble families once went to great lengths to produce Alphas, ensuring that their heir would be one. However, that era has long since passed. One day, Omegas began to disappear, and before long, even the Alpha bloodlines started to die out.

Lucien was born into a world that had known only Betas for almost two hundred years. No one truly understood what an Alpha was; they only knew what was written in books.

The only exception was Ines, who had spent a rut cycle with Lucien.

For three days, they were consumed by an unrelenting desire for each other. By the end, she could hardly tell whether she was awake or asleep. They had had no time to experience the joy of being together, only the mindless, instinct-driven pursuit of pleasure.

During those three days, one thought had taken root in her mind, over and over again:

Maybe… this happened because he was interested in her.
Maybe… after this, he would see her as more than a friend.
Maybe…

But all her fragile hopes were shattered the moment she regained consciousness after a full day of unconsciousness, when she heard him say that he didn’t remember anything.

It took her a while to properly take in those words. She couldn’t believe it. Could all those heated touches and burning kisses have been fake?

Still overwhelmed by confusion, the Duchess spoke with unhidden derision.

“How convenient. I was just thinking it’s about time to assign my son a bedmaid. Better you than some stranger, don’t you think?”

Three years had passed since those words, yet they still rang vividly in her ears.

Now, standing before the door to the duchess’s private drawing room, Ines steadied her breathing.

‘It’s nothing unusual.’

She told herself, forcing calm, before stepping inside.

⬤ ⬤ ⬤ ⬤ ⬤ ⬤

On his way up to his office, Lucien’s steps slowed. Remembering the conversation he’d had with Ines earlier, he muttered in a tone edged with disbelief,

“Acting like she’s never worn perfume…”

It was a scent he had known for over a decade. He had always wondered what perfume she used, but had never felt the need to ask. Then, right after her academy graduation, the scent had vanished.

“…Hm. Maybe it’s because she no longer needs to wear it around me.”

His mind wandered to the faint marks he’d sometimes noticed on the pale skin of her neck—subtle bruises that could only have been love bites. She clearly had someone, yet she had never said a word.

The thought left him with a dull sting… and, to his own annoyance, a trace of betrayal.

“Surely she’s not just in a physical relationship with someone…”

The Ines he knew would never be like that, but it was dangerous to judge people too quickly. Being the sole Alpha in the Romarin Empire, not to mention a duke, had made it difficult for him to trust others. Even without those circumstances, he was naturally cold and calculating.

“Who knows. Maybe Ines only acts differently in front of me.”

During her academy years, he had heard countless rumors about her. About half had been so absurd they weren’t worth listening to, but there was one common thread among them—

That she stayed close to him for the sake of using him.

He wasn’t particularly interested in whether it was true. It wasn’t because he trusted her as an old friend—rather, it was because even if it were true, it could never harm him in any way.

In truth, Ines was one of the rare few he wouldn’t mind being used by—at least, up to a certain point.

Resuming his steps, Lucien muttered under his breath,

“She seemed so reserved, but she’s quietly doing whatever she pleases.”

Yes—better that she know how to look out for her own interests than be a fool. That was a noble’s virtue, after all.

“She’ll need that much sense to get along with my future wife someday.”

Lucien naturally assumed Ines would always remain by his side. But he had never once looked at her as a woman. In truth, it was more accurate to say that he had never considered her a candidate for his spouse at all, lacking the qualifications from the very start.

Back in his office, he was reviewing documents when he remembered—it was almost time for his rut cycle.

Lightly tapping the desk with his fingers, he thought of the courtesan who visited him for each cycle.

Ever since he became an adult, his mother had arranged for a courtesan—not a sedative—to manage his rut cycles. It was an unpleasant necessity, and though he hated the arrangement, he couldn’t deny that ever since meeting this particular courtesan, his condition had noticeably improved—even if he couldn’t remember the encounters themselves.

Invisible pheromones were far more troublesome than most people imagined. At times, he even longed for the existence of an Omega who could share them with him.

Of course, he knew such luck was unlikely to ever come his way.

With a faint, cynical smile, he brushed away the idle thought and refocused on his work.