“His Grace Duke Astaire Seyfried and Her Grace Duchess Daphne Seyfried are entering!”

The moment an elegant pair entered the ballroom from head to toe, all eyes turned their way.

“That story is still famous even now.”

The ladies especially covered their mouths with fans and whispered constantly among themselves.

“The story about how the Duke and Duchess met?”

“I heard that the Duke offered his patronage after seeing the exceptional talent and potential of the current Duchess, who was originally a viscount’s daughter. He even got her admitted to the Imperial Academy.”

“And then on graduation day, he pulled up in a black carriage with a bouquet of flowers and proposed to the current Duchess, right?”

“A patron and his protégée overcoming their class difference and falling in love, then marrying. It really brings to mind Daddy-Long-Legs!”

The woman with elegantly braided chocolate-colored hair, Daphne, was so beautiful that no one could look away.

It wasn’t just her appearance.

There was something more to the woman walking in across the red carpet.

Was it because of her thickly lowered lashes, or was it a reflection of the life she had lived until now?

In a way, it was strange.

Her melancholic eyes looked so sorrowful.

‘What could someone like her—a woman who practically has the whole world—possibly have to be sad about?’

‘Especially with a man like that as her husband escorting the Duchess, it seems she should have no worries or concerns in life.’

“With faces like those, they couldn’t help but fall in love with each other.”

Duke Astaire Seyfried.

A man with vivid platinum hair that made even the brilliant chandelier lights above seem faded.

His features were sharp, seemingly sculpted by a god working day and night. Every contour on his face—from his jawline to his nose bridge—was deep and steep.

But his frosty green eyes had something about them that made people shrink back just from looking.

‘How could a married couple have such different eyes?’

“Still, the Duke is remarkable. Even so, for the head of the ‘Blue Bloods’ to have a love marriage.”

There are things in this world that can never be changed.

Namely, bloodline.

The blood flowing beneath nobles’ skin.

Specifically, the ‘Blue Bloods’—the upper crust of the upper class.

The seven high noble families who contributed to the founding of the Abont Empire 600 years ago.

“Honestly, even if it started as a romance, when you think about what the Duchess’s father is like… it’s a bit much, you know.”

“Shh! They’ll hear you, keep it down!”

They were fundamentally different from those who, like the Seyfried Duchess’s family, had luckily bought their titles with money during the great boom period.

Bloodline wasn’t something that could be overcome by mere marriage.

The Duchess was not unaware of this fact.

For a moment, the Duchess’s gaze reached the group of ladies who had been gossiping.

“Ahem!”

Everyone hid behind their fans and swallowed nervously. Seemingly they had said nothing at all.

“What are you thinking about so deeply?”

When the wife’s gaze—which should have been fixed only on her husband—turned elsewhere, her husband Astaire, who had been linking arms with her seamlessly, whispered softly.

His voice tickling her ear was sweet enough to intoxicate just from hearing it.

However, there was a clear reason why Astaire had taken Daphne, of all people, as his duchess.

It was never love.

“I heard from the ladies earlier. Count Hoover is going to invest in a mine in the neighboring country, the Pantera Empire, soon.”

Daphne’s voice was utterly dry, like a subordinate reporting to a superior.

“That miser investing in a mine?”

The sweet romance between patron and protégée.

The story of overcoming a vast class difference with love alone.

In reality, it was all a lie.

From a distance it might look like love, but up close, their relationship was merely that of business partners with a clear hierarchy.

There was nothing Daphne possessed that Astaire’s hands hadn’t touched.

Not her love. Not her husband.

Daphne always received the best from him, but that was only because Astaire saw her as a simple tool.

By making her his duchess, Astaire wanted only one thing.

To enter the world of women that he, as a man, couldn’t access.

Then, to bring back important information from high society.

The Duke’s life was measured with a ruler, without a single error. It was perfect and upright. It had to remain that way.

So when the girl he had been sponsoring became an adult, he installed her as his duchess.

Even knowing that Daphne was in love with him.

The man granted his protégée’s long-held wish while simultaneously crushing her sweet dream.

He was a cruel man.

“That habit is still the same. Getting so lost in thought you don’t even recognize your husband.”

An arm naturally wrapping around her shoulders.

Lips pressing against hers for all to see.

Everything was terribly warm and soft.

The man’s lips pulled back about a finger’s width and whispered.

And finally, he cast off the mask of the affectionate husband.

“That woman watching us right now, don’t associate with Countess Grent.”

“……”

“It would be good to stay on friendly terms with Marquis Ellington’s daughter. Her father is quite a useful man, you see.”

He even instructed her on who to associate with and who to avoid, controlling her relationships.

“……And lastly.”

The voice flowing out with warm breath was utterly brutal.

Their noses were still touching.

“Relax your expression and smile.”

Her husband, cupping her cheek like he was caressing the most precious thing in the world, was looking down at her with the coldest eyes imaginable.

She was in his broad embrace, feeling like her throat was being squeezed.

“People are watching us.”

Daphne didn’t avoid his gaze either.

She held her head up stiffly and glared at the man who was still her husband.

The air between them was taut, ready to snap at any moment. Both sides were pulling fiercely.

She didn’t want to be played by him anymore, but she hated the reality that to avoid it, she had to get entangled with him once again.

Suppressing the surging emotions, she said.

“Let’s talk later.”

“What if I refuse?”

“It’s important.”

“If we do it in bed, I can listen anytime.”

The color drained from Daphne’s face.

Her hands, unable to clench into fists, trembled. Then Astaire gently interlaced his fingers with his wife’s, seemingly to calm that trembling.

To anyone watching, they were a couple overflowing with love.

But from a distance it was love, and up close it was hatred.

They exchanged warm breaths while trading brutal glances.

Daphne raised her chin sharply again. Her firm lips twisted upward crookedly.

The man readily sneered at his wife. Then, without giving her a chance to escape, he crashed his lips against hers.

Daphne’s eyes widened instantly.

“Oh my, oh my!”

“Are the two of them… kissing right now in front of everyone?”

The light kiss gradually grew more intense. The lips that had been hovering over her cheek found her lips directly. The moment their lips met, sighs mixed with jealousy and envy flowed from those around them.

The kiss, and the reaction from their surroundings.

Everything went according to Astaire’s design.

But Daphne had no intention of being played by Astaire anymore either. So she didn’t stay still.

This time, the one who would be surprised was Astaire.

She bit down hard on his lower lip.

“Ngh……!”

Astaire couldn’t even contort his face and endured the pain with a smiling expression.

An attack received when one’s guard is down hurts the most.

That expression, unable to even cry out in pain, looked more handsome than ever.

‘I should have bitten harder while I was at it. It would have been even better if tears had welled up in those dry eyes.’ She felt somewhat regretful.

Astaire pulled away from his wife in an instant.

He touched his lips with his hand, which were tingling and throbbing. Even that looked to third parties like a husband still lingering over the kiss with his wife.

“You don’t need to worry about me.”

“I’m your husband, how could I not worry?”

Staring into those green eyes rippling, filled completely with her, Daphne said clearly.

It would be the first and last time.

“Don’t worry. You’ll divorce me soon enough anyway.”

* * *

The ball had ended.

The Duke, having descended from the carriage, moved urgently somewhere.

Daphne followed him from behind. She was out of breath, struggling to keep up with the fast-walking man.

“I have something to say.”

Astaire didn’t stop walking. Rather, his steps only quickened, and Daphne gradually grew anxious.

It was something she had to say today, something she had to settle today. She didn’t want to delay any longer.

“Say it inside.”

Thud.

Only when the door finally closed did she realize. They had come to the marital bedroom she shared with Astaire.

The man loosened his cravat carelessly and said indifferently.

“What do you have to say?”

“Not here—”

“I told you earlier. If we do it in bed, I’ll listen anytime, as much as you want.”

“This isn’t something to discuss here. It’s a serious conversation.”

“If it’s serious, all the more reason to do it in bed.”

“Your Grace!”

Daphne shouted with a flushed face, but Astaire was looking down at her with an expressionless face.

He took a step closer and grabbed her chin.

“Stop calling me ‘Your Grace.’ I told you to call me ‘honey.’”

The face filling her vision was breathtakingly beautiful.

“Or call me by my name. Astaire.”

But the man’s affectionately spoken voice was cold like ice.

‘That man will probably never know.’

‘That every moment, he’s gouging out my heart with an ice pick like this.’

“I’ve told you many times that forms of address are a habit. If you carelessly call me Your Grace in front of others, what will they think of us?”

“For how long…?”

“Forever. Until death do us part. Isn’t that what marriage contracts are about?”

The man said with a cold smile.

He was a man who could willingly act out love if necessary.

‘If I had known that, I never would have started this one-sided love for him in the first place.’

But it was too late for regrets.

The romance that shook the Empire’s high society. Their love story transcending class was true only up to the part that brought to mind the famous novel Daddy-Long-Legs.

After the patron and protégée relationship, the young ducal couple’s love story was all designed and spread by this man.

And so she married him, and exactly two years had passed.

She couldn’t endure it anymore.

“Just how long…… do I have to be an actor in your play……”

She muttered, holding back tears, but the terrible man brought his finger to the corner of her eye and pressed down.

A single tear rolled down her cheek.

The man stole away her tear with his fingertip, seemingly refusing to allow even crying.

“I want to stop the play you’ve scripted now.”

“On whose authority?”

When a married couple stands before a bed, what follows is the natural course of events.

The man loosened his cravat and threw the thing that had been constricting his neck to the floor. 

He undid the buttons fastened up to his collar one by one. His movements were quick but not hasty.

Soon his upper body, filled with firm white muscle, filled her vision.