“Are you all right?”

It was a question that Siliar had been asking himself repeatedly over the past few days.

More precisely, ever since he had seen Martiana crumple after Ramelata left.

He asked it at every opportunity — it would not be an exaggeration to say so.

She seemed so fragile to him.

‘Like a glass bead.’

She reminded him of that.

He longed to hold her carefully in his hands, something exquisitely beautiful and precious.

Yet it was far too delicate to be grasped carelessly.

If it broke, he knew their relationship might never be mended.

So Siliar treated her with the utmost caution.

This was in stark contrast to how he had clung to her not long ago, using ‘practice’ as an excuse to stay close. It wasn’t that his feelings had diminished. He had simply chosen to put them to one side for the time being.

He restrained his desires, but he kept the two hours they had promised each other without fail. He had merely become more deliberate and careful in his approach.

His wish not to divorce her had never changed.

Perhaps because of this, the distance between them had lessened slightly over the past five days.

The faint smile that often appeared on Martiana’s face when she looked at him was proof enough of that.

“I’m fine. Mother apologized.”

“She didn’t look fine when she left.”

“That’s just her temperament. I’m satisfied that she said the words. Ah—and as promised, you’ll cancel the investigation she was under?”

Martiana stepped beside him and gave a small shrug.

The soft, pleasant sound of her voice near his ear drew an unconscious smile from Siliar.

Seeing the gentle curve of her lips, he found himself mirroring it.

“If that’s enough for you.”

“It’s sufficient.”

“In that case.”

He nodded.

By his standards, this was an unusually lenient outcome.

Even with mutual agreement, he would usually impose at least a minor penalty at the guard station.

“Do as you wish.”

When it came to Martiana, he had no wish to pursue the matter further.

He would give her what she wanted.

Unconditionally.

For now, this was the best way to regain her trust.

“I’ll be late tonight.”

Before telling her about his plans, he looked briefly in the direction in which Drisena had disappeared.

He did not quite meet her gaze.

There was a hint of awkwardness.

In recent years, he had rarely shared details of his daily routine with her.

He had only started doing so a few days ago, in order to coordinate their time together.

This felt unfamiliar and therefore slightly uncomfortable.

For Martiana, too.

“Is it work at the guard station?”

She glanced at his attire as she asked her question.

She had noticed it the moment he appeared.

The guard corps uniform hugged his frame.

Every button was fastened all the way up.

There was a rigid air about him, more severe than usual.

He looked like a man heading somewhere difficult.

But in this kingdom, where could he truly feel unsettled?

“The King has summoned me. Not just me—Nobil and several other ministers as well.”

“Has something serious happened?”

“I don’t know yet. I’ll find out when I arrive. More importantly—are you going out as well?”

He tugged lightly at the button that was digging into his throat and looked down at her.

His gaze lingered on her attire.

While she had been staying indoors over the past few days, she had worn plain, undecorated dresses.

Today, however, she was wearing pale pink.

Even so, it was simple. Unembellished.

‘Wait.’

He had seen that dress before.

Long ago.

Before she withdrew into her room.

‘Isn’t that an old one?’

He quickly scanned her from head to toe.

Although he had little sense of fashion, he could tell that something was amiss.

Martiana, the Duchess of Vandyk, was wearing a dress that had long been gathering dust in her wardrobe.

She wasn’t wearing any jewelry either.

‘I hadn’t thought of that.’

His focus had been solely on the fact that she had returned.

He hadn’t considered anything else.

After all, only a few days had passed. There hadn’t been time to commission new clothes.

Still.

Siliar quietly rubbed the back of his neck.

He would have to summon a dressmaker soon.

If he simply asked her to choose something herself, she probably wouldn’t.

“Where are you headed?”

He asked casually.

Unaware of his thoughts, Martiana answered just as lightly.

“To the temple. Melissa seems terribly bored, so I thought we might go out.”

“Melissa—Ah.”

He had been about to ask who she meant when the sight of the Holy Knight emerging from the room stopped him in his tracks.

He glanced at her once and looked away.

She did not particularly interest him.

He could barely remember her name.

What held his attention — then and now — was Martiana.

“In that case, I’ll go with you. I’ll escort you.”

She was the only thing that mattered.

The only problem was that she did not seem nearly as invested in him.

“There’s no need. The palace is in the opposite direction. You’d have to go out of your way.”

See?

A cool refusal in return for his offer.

“It doesn’t matter. Once we leave the house, it’s all the same road.”

He did not falter.

“The King is waiting. Don’t delay on my account.”

He had decided to take things slowly.

Besides, no one ever obtained everything they wanted.

So instead—

“Then will you allow this?”

He would wait for the right moment, but only within reason.

Just like now.

He rather awkwardly extended his arm.

Her eyes followed the movement.

It was a silent question: what did it mean?

He smiled faintly.

“Hug me.”

“What?”

“I might not make it back tonight.”

“What does that have to do with this?”

Martiana recoiled, clearly horrified.

She did not see his eyes narrow in quiet displeasure.

“We won’t have our two hours together. Consider this a substitute.”

“And if you come back early? Postpone it.”

“No.”

“…?”

The sulky tone did not suit him.

She blinked, looking visibly startled.

Understandably.

After keeping their distance for several days, he suddenly asked her for a hug.

“It’s just a farewell before work. We used to do it often.”

Speaking in measured fragments, Siliar watched Martiana carefully.

Admittedly, standing there with his arms still outstretched was embarrassing.

But what could he do?

His patience had been wearing thin for days.

He had promised himself that he would approach her slowly.

In truth, however, his restraint had worn thin long ago.

Surely this much was permissible?

“Farewell before work…”

Her violet eyes, filled with quiet calculation, rested on him.

Perhaps she was searching her memories.

In the early days of their relationship, she had always been the one to see him off.

She would slip into his arms and tell him to come back safely.

Back then, he felt utterly fulfilled every time he left the house.

“Yes. A farewell. It’s not just you doing it. I’ll tell you to return safely too.”

He emphasized each word, giving his outstretched arms a slight, encouraging shake.

It might have sounded like sophistry.

But he was desperate.

Was this what it felt like to lure a cat when there were no treats in sight?

If only she were a dog instead!

“……!”

While his thoughts wandered, he felt weight settle against his arm.

A hand.

Martiana had lowered her gaze and taken hold of his sleeve.

“Martiana.”

Gods.

With only a single step between them, Siliar found himself invoking the heavens.

Pure, unrestrained gratitude.

And when her hand brushed against his uniform, he reached his peak.

“Return safely.”

She didn’t throw her arms around him.

Instead, she gently rested both hands on his waist.

It was hardly an embrace.

And yet it was enough.

This closeness.

The fact that she was standing within the circle of his arms.

That alone satisfied him.

After all, he said,

“You too. Return safely.”

He could close the remaining distance.

He drew her in gently, one arm circling her shoulders.

It had been a long time since he had left for work feeling so content.

***

The carriage lurched as it left the grounds of the estate.

Martiana watched Siliar’s figure grow smaller through the window, then leaned back into her seat.

Strangely enough, despite having said their goodbyes, they had ended up leaving together.

That had not been her intention.

She had wished him well and wanted him to leave.

But he lingered.

While she was preparing to leave, he had remained outside her chambers, repeatedly asking the same question.

“Are you leaving now? Shall I walk partway with you?”

Simply telling him that he was busy had achieved nothing.

His determination to accompany her was clear.

In fact, it was almost endearing.

In the end, she gave in.

They set off together, only parting at the fork in the road leading to the palace and the temple.

And then—