Woken by the sound of birdsong, Ines rose from her creaky bed, stretched, and got dressed. She moved through her morning routine with practised ease, washing up and changing clothes before quietly heading to the dining room.

She didn’t usually make unnecessary noise, but her mother’s temper was especially short in the mornings, so it was best not to provoke her. Still, she needed breakfast before work — only then could she focus properly throughout the morning shift.

Perhaps because she had grown up accustomed to skipping meals, she found hunger especially hard to endure.

Easing the dining room door open, she saw that the rest of her family were already gathered there. Slipping inside carefully, she was met with an unusually warm greeting from her mother, Samantha.

“Oh, our eldest daughter. Come, have breakfast.”

“Did you sleep well?”

“Of course. With such a dependable eldest daughter, I can fall asleep happy every night. Now, sit.”

As Ines took her seat, she felt a small wave of relief — Samantha seemed to be in a good mood today. Even the food served by the head maid was different from usual: there was meat on the plate, and the bread was soft.

“Today’s the day, isn’t it?”

At her mother’s question, the hand holding Ines’s spoon trembled faintly. Today marked the start of Lucien’s rut cycle. His cycles were relatively predictable, rarely differing from the estimated date by more than a day.

That meant she would be staying at the Duke of Reinhardt’s residence for the next three or four days.

She hadn’t expected her mother to bring it up so openly in front of the household staff. Feeling her cheeks heat up, Inés replied in a quiet voice.

“…Yes, that’s right.”

“This mother of yours is so proud of you. There’s probably no other daughter who would dedicate herself to her family the way you do.”

At the saccharine praise, Ines lifted her gaze, her eyes cool as she looked at Samantha. Her mother was stroking the new ring on her finger as she continued,

“Normally I only serve you salad to keep your weight in check, but today is a special day—better to have a full stomach, don’t you think?”

“Thank you, Mother…”

“Hmm, Sarah? Don’t you think the steak is too small? Bring her more, will you?”

“Yes, madam.”

The moment the head maid disappeared into the kitchen, Ines’s younger sister Chloe, who had been idly picking at her food beside Samantha, spoke up without a second thought.

“Ah, I’m really jealous of you, Sister.”

“…What?”

“I mean, really—when else are you going to sleep with a man that incredible?”

Ines was at a loss for words at Chloe’s even more brazen remark than their mother’s. Pushing her steak around for no reason, Chloe went on,

“Just that alone makes you lucky—but you even get paid for it. You’ve got nothing in life to worry about.”

Whether it was meant as mockery or genuine envy, Ines couldn’t tell. Her appetite vanished, and she set her spoon down. The potato soup in her mouth suddenly felt so dry it seemed to stick in her throat.

“Chloe, sometimes you make me worry.”

Samantha said, chiding her youngest in a gentle but reproving tone.

“It’s not a good habit to blurt out everything you think. There are times when you should close your eyes to what you know. Especially for a young lady of a noble house—sometimes you must pretend not to see. How can you still speak so bluntly like a child?”

“…It’s not like I said anything wrong. Why am I the only one you scold?”

“Enough. Stop eating and get up. You’ve been putting on too much weight lately!”

“Tch…”

Chloe irritably jerked her plump arms down under the table before springing to her feet. The heavy thud of her footsteps echoed as she stomped out of the dining room.

Feeling just as uncomfortable now, Ines found she couldn’t enjoy the rare steak in front of her. She suddenly felt as if she were being stared at from all sides.

She didn’t dare look around, merely swallowing her food quietly. If she didn’t eat, she knew she wouldn’t have the strength to make it through the morning.

Samantha watched her in cold silence, and her father, Alex, who was sitting at the head of the table, looked equally disapprovingly at her.

This was her home, her family.

Yet she still didn’t understand why she felt so uncomfortable here that it brought tears to her eyes. But no tears came. She had long since given up hope of receiving any parental affection — she had become too resigned to the situation.

This place had never once been on her side.

So she left quickly for the Duke of Reinhardt’s estate—no less a place where she was used, but entirely different simply because Lucien was there.

If she was to be used all the same, she only wished she could remain in the place where he was for just a little longer.

⬤ ⬤ ⬤ ⬤ ⬤ ⬤

The day passed as usual. She attended to the occasional task that came in, and at three in the afternoon, she took tea with him. Afterward, she gave her report as if she were leaving for the day.

In the guest room allocated to her by the Duchess, Inés sat quietly reading until she realised that the sun had set completely. She closed her book and looked out of the window.

From far away, she thought she could faintly catch his scent.

On the days his rut cycle began, his scent always seemed stronger—so strong that it could be sensed even from a distance.

The fragrance of blue roses mingled with the rich aroma of whiskey spread through the entire mansion. It was the same scent that had filled the air the first time she had been with him, and the memory made her lower belly tighten involuntarily.

“…Once again, I’ll be the one to become accustomed to this.”

Sometimes she resented her body, which seemed to prepare itself automatically whenever she thought of his scent. With quiet resignation, she closed her eyes. Soon, the duke’s servants would arrive.

Knock, knock.

“Excuse us.”

Three servants entered the guest room. Their expressions were blank, their manner brisk and businesslike.

First, they filed down her fingernails blunt so there would be no risk of scratching his skin.

Second, they bathed her in water infused with salt for the skin, then rubbed fragrant oil over her body. This was not for her benefit, but for Lucien’s.

Third, they dressed her in a thin slip like that worn by courtesans, draping a robe over her shoulders.

Finally, they placed her dress and shoes into a bag and handed it to her—an unspoken instruction to change back into them after it was over and report to the duchess.

The entire process felt deeply humiliating. Aware of how it chipped away at her dignity, Ines pressed her lips together and endured it in silence.

No—she didn’t just endure it. She complied.

Because even if it meant suffering such indignity, she still wanted to remain by his side. This was a choice she had made for herself.

Walking down the unlit hall, she relied solely on the moonlight to guide her steps. The corridor was silent but for the sound of her own footsteps.

When she reached the door to Lucien’s room, she took a deep breath. Even here, the scent seeping through the door was potent enough to set her on edge.

Half of her wanted to open the door and go to him immediately; the other half was weary with the thought of not knowing how much longer she would have to keep doing this.

What would have been the right thing to do?

Should she have spoken openly with him the first time they were together?

Or even now—should she tell the duchess this wasn’t right?

The vague, choking emotion she had been swallowing down since morning rose to the back of her throat, threatening to spill over.

The tears that would not come earlier brimmed and trembled, ready to fall.

It was happening again.

She didn’t know why it was only in front of him that she cried. She hadn’t even faced him yet—just standing in front of his door was enough to make the tears overflow, streaming hot down her cheeks.

At that moment, the ornate wooden door before her opened without a sound.

Through the half-open gap, a tall man stood, his gaze fixed sharply on her—his eyes empty in a way they had not been during the day.

“…Lucien.”

‘What am I supposed to do?’

‘I like you so much… so why does it make me want to cry?’

The words she could never bring herself to speak lodged in her throat once again.

Before she could gather her thoughts, Lucien seized her wrist with a rough impatience, as if he could wait no longer.

“…Ah.”

Dragged forward by his strength, Ines closed her eyes at the sensation of his body—solid and burning hot—enveloping her completely.

As the tears pooled beneath her lashes finally spilled over, a heated tongue moved to catch them the instant they fell, licking them away as if in anticipation.

It was the act that marked the beginning of his rut cycle.