Chapter 1: Consummation on the Night of the New Moon (12)

Larie swallowed her sigh.

It hadn’t always been like this. There was a time she had tried to respond.

But every response—no matter how mild—always led to misunderstanding.

Even speaking at all sometimes sparked wild rumors in the social circles.

So eventually, she learned the fastest way to end it was simply to endure in silence.

They would get bored soon enough.

Especially now that she noticed a few of them glancing to the opposite end of the ballroom.

They were probably looking at Terian.

They could mock Larie all they liked without consequence, but they wouldn’t dare tarnish his dignity.

That sort of thing usually only happened when Terian wasn’t around—but today was different. Perhaps it was because Larie had stayed away from social gatherings for so long.

Trying to rein in her spiraling thoughts, Larie lifted her head. She followed the young ladies’ line of sight—and was startled to find Terian staring directly in their direction.

“Oh my.”

She wasn’t the only one who noticed.

The other ladies quickly exchanged glances, their fans darting up to cover their mouths in haste.

Then, just as naturally, they turned their backs on Larie and began to drift away.

“I heard they’ve discovered a new nymph half-blood?”

“Oh please, it’s probably just another fraud cooked up by those traveling circuses in the slums.”

Their topic changed in an instant, flowing like a well-rehearsed performance.

Larie stood frozen, stunned by the unexpected shift. She kept her eyes on Terian.

She’d felt his gaze earlier. She was sure of it.

Even if he pretended otherwise, he’d been watching—watching as she was mocked, perhaps even taking it in with silent disdain.

After a few final words to a nearby group of gentlemen, Terian suddenly began walking toward her with long, purposeful strides.

The young ladies didn’t stop chatting, but now they were retreating more hastily toward the far corner of the ballroom.

“Well, it has been over eighty years since the last half-blood appeared, after all.”

“Of course. His Holiness the Pope himself has said that mythical beings have all but disappeared from this world.”

Unlike his calm approach toward Larie, they fled like startled birds, glancing nervously behind them as they went.

In the end, the mockery ended earlier than expected.

Larie would have liked to sigh in relief—but her body remained tense.

Because Terian was still walking straight toward her.

The closer he came, the more she wanted to avoid his eyes.

But those piercing blue eyes stayed locked on hers, as if she were rooted to the floor. She couldn’t look away.

The odd tension that built in her chest suddenly twisted into something sharper at his first words.

“Why are you just standing there? After hearing that kind of insult?”

 A wave of humiliation surged through her, and Larie’s cheeks flushed red. She had assumed that, from a distance, he wouldn’t have heard the conversation—

“Why aren’t you answering me?”

“…That’s because…”

A strange kind of tension rose in Terian’s throat, making him want to yank off his cravat.

Larie, just as she had when the other ladies had been speaking, was avoiding his gaze again.

Throughout their marriage, they had never enjoyed a social gathering together.

Larie never informed even the butler of her attendance, often arriving late and leaving early without notice.

Before getting in the carriage, she’d told him not to mind her—but Terian had never felt obliged to follow that instruction.

Even without that, he always kept at least part of his attention on her whenever she was in the ballroom.

From what he’d observed, she was always alone—quietly standing off to the side, then disappearing just as quietly.

So to see her surrounded by other young ladies today had been surprising.

Their seemingly pleasant approach had even made him wonder—did she have more social connections than he thought?

After all, Terian knew exactly what the Tromperie name meant in society.

But the so-called “conversation” quickly took a different turn.

The fact that Larie didn’t respond at all, simply enduring it in silence, baffled him.

Were they mocking her as if she weren’t the Grand Duchess?

And she—she just stood there and took it?

Was she ignoring them? Or was there another reason?

He had half a mind to chase those women down and demand they apologize.

But in the rigidly gendered world of high society, his intervention wouldn’t be seen as noble—it would only stir scandal.

So instead, he’d come to ask her directly.

No matter whose daughter she was, it made no sense for her to simply accept that level of insult.

And after a long, uncomfortable pause, Larie finally answered.

“Because… none of what they said was wrong, Your Grace.”

“What… did you say?”

That short reply was so simple, so dry—it hit Terian like a blow to the head.

Had Larie responded with anger or even insulted those women, it might not have felt so absurd.

But the tone of someone who seemed to have given up on everything—it grated on him.

His eyes kept drifting toward her shoulders, which looked thinner than even at the start of their marriage.

No, it wasn’t just his imagination.

He could still remember vividly how her body had felt in his arms the night before.

Why has she become so thin?

Something was wrong.

“The Emperor approaches…!”

Just then, the herald’s cry rang out from across the hall.

Groups of nobles who had been chatting casually straightened their posture and turned their attention to the grand entryway.

Terian cursed the wretched timing and turned his head back to Larie.

“We’ll speak on the way back. Understood, madam?”

“…”

Larie didn’t answer.

Terian’s sharp gaze felt unbearably heavy.

It was only when the Emperor appeared that his stare finally lifted.

Only then did Larie quietly exhale a breath of relief.

She had planned to return home early if the opportunity allowed, so she couldn’t respond to him.

Especially if he planned to question her about the incident with the young ladies—she had no excuse, and all she wanted to do was avoid it.

“It is good to see all your faces again.”

At the sound of the Emperor’s voice—grating like scraped iron—Larie’s expression subtly stiffened.

It had been a long time since she’d attended a gathering in the Emperor’s presence.

Even from afar, his declining health was painfully obvious.

Despite wearing royal robes embroidered with gold, the Emperor looked strangely small, almost pitiful.

Usually, he would sit upon the throne the moment he arrived and receive greetings from his subjects—but today was different.

Standing before the assembly, he addressed the crowd directly.

“Today, I have someone special to introduce to you all.”

At the sudden declaration, the nobles exchanged glances in confusion. Some even frowned, assuming the Emperor had taken another concubine.

“Let them in.”

What entered was, unexpectedly, a child no older than ten.

And behind the child, the Baron and Baroness of Tromperie followed.

“A distant cousin of mine,” declared the Emperor.

The nobles could not hide their shock. Some were glaring at the Tromperie couple.

Others instinctively turned to look at Terian.

“I have appointed Baron and Baroness Tromperie as the child’s guardians.”

With the Emperor’s final statement sealing it, all eyes turned toward the Tromperie couple. Larie’s stunned gaze also remained fixed on her parents.

‘I already gave him a gold mine to bring the child over… Greedy bastard.’

So this was it.

The truth behind the conversation she had overheard recently between her father and brother in the drawing room. They had been plotting to bring in a child with a claim to the throne.

Becoming the guardian of someone in line for the throne was no small matter. It was essentially a declaration that Tromperie was entering the battle for succession.

Moreover, the fact that the Emperor personally introduced him was a problem. It was a subtle attack—an indirect statement that he did not recognize Terian’s position as next in line.

Realizing all of this, Larie hurriedly looked to Terian. And she flinched.

“…….”

Since when had he been looking at her?

Meeting his burning blue eyes, Larie only wanted to escape this place.

❖ ❖ ❖

As soon as the nobles were allowed to enjoy the banquet freely again, Terian led Larie to the balcony. Watching his angry figure march ahead, she had no choice but to follow reluctantly.

“Madam.”

“Tromperie all but declared today that they intend to enter the imperial succession struggle directly.”

“…”

The issue of imperial succession was something fundamentally meant to be settled within the royal family.

Because of that, noble houses rarely expressed public support for any one candidate. While silent factions were inevitable, open endorsement carried the risk of being seen as insulting the crown.

Still, there were rare exceptions—like today. When a noble family did enter the fray so overtly, it meant they were staking their very survival on the outcome.

“Originally, the easiest way for Tromperie to be involved in the line of succession would’ve been… our child.”

Those who moved so openly usually did so without regard for means or consequences.

“And since we’ve failed to conceive in the past two years, they turned to the imperial genealogy instead.”

“…”

With each word Terian spoke, Larie began to understand.

Even before the scars of war had healed, Tromperie was already stirring the winds of conflict anew.

“You came to me last night… for that reason too.”

The certainty in Terian’s voice was chilling.

The look in his eyes—colder than she’d ever seen—cut into her with ruthless precision.

Startled, Larie instinctively took a step back.

“Were you trying to ensure both paths would be available—whichever one proved more useful?”

“…”

He closed the distance between them in a single stride.

Cornered, Larie kept retreating, though the balcony offered nowhere else to run.

He was close enough now that his breath brushed against her skin.

“That’s not… what it was,” she managed to stammer, her lips trembling.

“Not what it was?”

Her voice, barely a whisper, trembled under the weight of his suspicion.

As he tilted his head, scrutinizing her face, a fresh crack formed between his brows.

“…”

“…”

To Terian, it felt like there was a fire roaring in his chest, furious and unrelenting.

What is this feeling? He had told himself he should expect nothing from her—yet why was this rage boiling up inside?

Did Larie really not know about the plan earlier? It shouldn’t have mattered now, but Terian couldn’t let go of that question.

Just say you didn’t know. Tell me you truly didn’t.

“…I-I’m sorry…”

But in the end, all she offered was an apology—one he could no longer tell was sincere or a calculated pretense.

Her delicate shoulders had been trembling nonstop.

Realizing how he must look—like someone intimidating her—shame washed over him like cold lakewater.

A clinging, miserable emotion—somewhere between betrayal and fury—seeped into his soul like sludge.

Caught in a storm of things he couldn’t name, Terian bit out his words.

“Don’t come to me again.”

“…”

“I don’t want a child with you… not anymore.”

With that, he threw open the balcony curtains and left.

Through the fluttering fabric, she caught a glimpse of his rigid, unrelenting retreat.

“…Ah.”

Her legs gave out, and Larie crumpled to the floor.

His final words pierced her heart like a shard of ice.

She had known it, deep down.

She herself had once believed she shouldn’t bear his child for his sake.

Then why did it hurt so much?

“…”

Even through the haze clouding her mind, she couldn’t understand what her family had done.

Whether it was the emperor’s distant nephew or a child that could one day be born to Terian—it didn’t matter.

Not when the rightful heir stood strong before them: Terian, revered by all—so unlike the emperor.

Unless the current ruler bore a legitimate crown prince, no one could truly threaten Terian’s position.

Her expression hardened as the pieces started to fall into place.

Could they… be planning something even worse for him?’