When she opened her eyes again, she saw the luxurious chandelier ceiling.

A sight she’d grown sick of by now.

Then, something warm brushed across her forehead, and she gently opened her eyes.

“Are you awake?”

“Ah…”

Only then did Daphne understand the full situation.

She’d been sick all night. And Astaire had been by her side, nursing her.

He was busy with work, yet he was taking care of her. Even though he didn’t need to.

“…Don’t you have work?”

“That’s the first thing you say to your husband when you wake up?”

Astaire sighed. Even so, he tucked her sweat-dampened hair behind her ear and wiped her face with endlessly delicate touches.

Daphne remembered that exact moment.

When the Grand Duchess and Reina’s scheme had left her clothes covered in paint, he’d wiped her down with careful hands just like this.

That was the first time she’d discovered warmth in this cold man.

But they’d come too far to go back now.

Daphne suddenly noticed the red veins in his eyes.

“Did you stay up all night?”

“Yeah.”

Astaire answered like it was obvious.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“Because of me…”

A strange emotion surged through her. This man had lost sleep because of her.

Since she was just a wife bound by contract anyway, he could have simply left her care to a dedicated maid.

“Don’t you have a lot of work?”

“I do.”

Looking up at him, she saw his eyes full of exhaustion. She almost thought he should be the one lying down beside her.

“But you’re the most important thing.”

The words would have made her heart flutter, but his voice was utterly flat.

“You’re the most useful person to me, after all.”

So that’s what it was.

Daphne laughed hollowly to herself.

What had she been hoping for?

Had she hoped this man would truly love her?

Especially after having that strange dream.

They say dreams manifest desires—did she still hope Astaire would love her?

She mocked herself.

After everything that happened, she was still craving his love.

Then Astaire gently stroked her cheek with his fingers. Daphne was startled.

The gesture was too much like the affectionate Astaire from her dream.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

Had her surprised expression shown? She quickly composed herself.

The man lightly gripped her chin and added:

“Did you dream about me?”

“…!”

Too shocked that he’d guessed right, Daphne stared with her mouth open.

“How did I appear in your dream?”

Astaire asked, meeting her eyes.

He seemed genuinely, truly curious.

Daphne paused to choose her words. What should she say?

“…Just.”

Should she be honest?

Should she lie?

Her pride said the latter. But somehow she couldn’t bring herself to speak.

“The same as usual.”

That was all she managed to say.

Astaire laughed softly.

It sounded like he knew she was lying, which made Daphne uncomfortable.

“Did I hold your face like this?”

He did. He caressed her left cheek gently, like handling a precious glass doll.

The warmth starting from her cheek strangely reached all the way to her heart.

She trembled quietly.

“Did I kiss you like this?”

Slowly, Astaire gripped her face and pulled her toward him.

The distance between them closed in an instant.

Astaire’s scent from her dream filled her nostrils.

A familiar fragrance.

They say scent evokes memories of the past. Daphne bit her lip slightly, trying not to recall the good times with him.

“A soft kiss.”

It was a light, gentle kiss like one given to a child.

Then.

“Did I devour you roughly?”

A man at the threshold of adulthood.

A girl who should still be called a girl.

Time had passed them by like an arrow, swift and sharp. And so the man and woman had become equals as adults.

The unripe kiss like a green apple transformed into the mature kiss of adults in an instant.

Daphne’s breath caught under the man’s solid upper body pressing down on her.

“Hold here.”

Yet the man placed his hand behind her neck. The contact between their lips deepened even more.

This man, ransacking her mouth, her mind.

Astaire Seyfried, the Duke, still threw her into the center of a confusing storm.

And then he always withdrew alone, just watching.

Once, Daphne had hated, despised his indifference to death. Now even his attention felt cruel. Yet no matter how hard she tried to push him away, the man wouldn’t budge.

Resistance turned to resignation, resignation to comfort—it happened in an instant.

His chest, solid as rock, was solid enough to lean on.

The man’s lips, exhaling a heavy breath, slowly moved downward.

The moment they touched her protruding collarbone, Daphne’s toes trembled.

“That’s enough for today.”

The night before, Astaire’s words left her feeling disappointed in herself.

What had she been expecting?

Had she hoped that man would hold her like before, that she could have him?

Even though they’d already come too far for that.

That night, Daphne lay awake with her eyes closed, unable to sleep.

Only when it was closer to morning than dawn could she finally lose consciousness and sleep.

Then, after sleeping less than a few hours, she opened her eyes again.

“Ah!”

Filling her vision was none other than Astaire.

Daphne was so startled she gripped and released the blanket.

To call out to him—the man was sleeping too deeply.

“No way.”

It seemed the man had also stayed up all night watching Daphne before finally falling asleep late.

Astaire slept beside the bed, his face exhausted from fatigue. His hand rested gently on top of Daphne’s.

Morning sunlight slipped softly through the curtains, enveloping the room. Daphne carefully sat up without waking Astaire and leaned against the headboard.

The man’s quiet breathing echoed softly in the room. Even this cold, icy man had warm breath and hands.

Somehow, Daphne didn’t want to pull her hand away from his.

Seeing Astaire properly for the first time in nearly a month, he didn’t look healthy at all.

Dark circles under his eyes, slightly sunken cheeks.

Having lost a bit of weight, his characteristic sharpness and sensitivity seemed even more pronounced.

Yet Astaire’s face as he held her hand looked so peaceful.

She suddenly thought:

She wished she could be the first thing that man saw when he opened his eyes.

…Obviously a foolish thought.

Daphne told herself this, biting her lip that she’d chewed on countless times. She remembered Astaire telling her to stop biting it as he’d touched her lips.

She carefully withdrew her hand. She did her best to keep Astaire from waking.

But heaven didn’t seem to be on her side.

The moment his hand felt empty, the man’s eyes snapped open. And seemingly without any trace of fatigue, Astaire looked up at Daphne with bright, clear eyes.

“Good morning.”

Daphne couldn’t bring herself to return the greeting.

“Did you sleep well?”

The truth—that she couldn’t sleep because of him—lingered in her mouth. Her tongue felt bitter somehow.

“…Yes.”

Once again, Daphne lied to him.

* * *

That afternoon, Astaire went to the trading company a little later than usual.

Fortunately, there was nothing urgent to handle immediately, or it would have been troublesome.

Still, Astaire didn’t feel particularly bad. Despite barely sleeping, he felt light.

“What’s wrong with me?”

The man muttered quietly, sitting alone in the carriage heading to the trading company.

He felt like he could still reach out and touch Daphne’s hair.

He didn’t want to forget that sensation for a long time.

It seemed similar to years ago, when he’d accidentally discovered Daphne at the Academy and captured her on canvas.

He still remembered that day vividly.

“Can we turn the carriage around here?”

Just like today, when he was leisurely commuting to the trading company by carriage, Astaire had suddenly asked the coachman while looking out the window.

“Pardon?”

“Can we change direction to the Imperial Academy?”

“It’s not impossible, but…”

“Then let’s go to the Imperial Academy.”

The Duke’s order was sudden, but the coachman slowly changed direction toward the Imperial Academy.

That day’s decision had been impulsive.

For some reason, that girl came to mind that day.

The girl he’d taken in from the Count’s family that owed him a debt.

He’d thought she was a maid, but she was actually the daughter of a lower noble family that had become nouveau riche and quickly fallen.

“Then buy me.”

He remembered the young girl who’d looked him straight in the eye and spoken boldly.

Fine, let’s see you try.

To teach that impudent girl the cold reality, he’d thrown her into the Imperial Academy. Then he’d only heard brief updates through a few reports from his aide.

According to the reports, the girl was doing well. Though she had almost no friends, she seemed to be managing her studies reasonably well.

Friends weren’t necessary anyway.

That’s what Astaire thought. Perhaps because he himself had no close friends to share his heart with.

“We’re approaching the Academy main gate soon.”

“No, never mind. Just let me off here.”

“…Pardon?”

If the Duke’s black carriage pulled up to the main gate, it would certainly draw everyone’s attention. The Academy headmaster might even come running.

And Astaire didn’t want that.

He wanted to quietly, almost invisibly, drop by the Academy, see that girl, and quietly disappear.

The coachman was bewildered, but ultimately stopped the carriage as the Duke wished. The Duke stepped down from the carriage without making a sound.

Slowly, he walked through the Imperial Academy grounds where he himself had once attended.

How long had he walked?

Without even needing to search, he saw the girl he’d decided to sponsor right ahead.

During a break, students were sprawled out on the sunny lawn.

Even in that scene like a landscape painting, lively and warm, he could easily pick out that girl.

Daphne.

The girl had a book on her lap and was talking with someone beside her.

Astaire stopped walking without realizing it.

Dazed, he watched the scene like he was under a spell.

Bright yellow sunlight shattered and flowed down from the girl’s brown crown.