“It’s the duty of a duchess, isn’t it?”

Etia muttered blankly. Though her voice was too small, the close distance meant Derek couldn’t help but hear it. And Derek’s expression hardened at her words about “the duchess’s duty.”

Etia herself didn’t know what she was saying or what expression he wore. This was the first time she’d seen him this close since the wedding night, but it didn’t matter. 

Right now, only one thought dominated her mind—that she had to fulfill that “duty” the lawyer, the servants, and other nobles had hammered into her so relentlessly.

If she didn’t have children, this man would easily demand divorce, Etia thought. Like the lawyer said, being a woman who couldn’t produce an heir was the most important and certain grounds for divorce.

Perhaps to create that reason, this man hadn’t come to the couple’s bedroom even once all this time, she thought. 

Otherwise, there was no way he’d have ended something all men valued so highly after just one wedding night. So to avoid being divorced, she had to fulfill the duties of a duchess.

However, Etia wondered who decided and created those duties. The proper conduct and thoughts noble women should have that she’d heard ad nauseam since childhood. 

Where did those things start, and who began them? She endlessly questioned who made such things that tormented her so.

But knowing no one could give a clear answer when asked and would only bring up duties again, Etia simply kept her mouth shut. She felt like beating her chest to relieve this frustration.

Yet unlike her noisy heart, her actions continued trying to seduce him. She slowly caressed Derek’s body, which seemed warmer than hers, while looking at him.

The hand on his shoulder slowly traveled up along his skin and stroked the nape of his neck. 

The skin touching her palm directly felt far hotter than through clothes. Yet Etia didn’t notice the simultaneous feeling of sadness creeping in.

“…You’re very drunk.”

“I don’t care.”

“Let’s talk again tomorrow.”

“I don’t want to.”

“My lady.”

Derek was the one who noticed Etia’s sadness. Derek frowned without realizing it, seeing Etia seduce him while heavily intoxicated yet wearing a sad expression. 

Why would she make such a face? Derek couldn’t understand.

“I don’t want to be intimate this way.”

Like Etia, Derek also felt frustrated by this incomprehensible emotion and let out a small sigh. 

But more than his own feelings, he only thought he needed to placate Etia since she was too drunk.

He gently restrained Etia, who kept stroking him and trying to get closer despite her unsteady body, making sure not to hurt her, and supported her waist so she wouldn’t fall backward. The increasingly close contact made Derek feel somewhat troubled.

Though pretending to be fine, he instinctively felt heat rising in his body. Every time Etia sitting on his lap moved, his center gradually grew as well. He worried Etia might notice.

Derek disliked how honestly his body reacted to trivial gestures. But he pretended nothing was wrong and chose words that could persuade her.

“…Why?”

“Because you’re drunk.”

“Is that so important? I heard men actually prefer it.”

“I don’t have the perverted taste of taking advantage of drunk people.”

“…”

“So let’s talk again next time.”

“Will you allow it next time?”

“…If you’re not drunk.”

Fortunately, even the rambling Etia seemed mollified by his firm attitude and finally nodded slightly. Then she immediately fell asleep and collapsed onto his shoulder. Though caught off guard, Derek let out a big sigh once the situation finally ended.

He carried the sleeping her to the bed and carefully laid her down. After covering her with blankets so she wouldn’t be cold and throwing logs into the fireplace to keep the fire burning, Derek looked at her face again before leaving the room. 

Faint tear stains caught his eye.

Derek approached her and unconsciously reached out to wipe her face and brush back her hair. Her expression became somewhat more comfortable, seemingly feeling the gentle touch.

“So that’s why she suddenly suggested drinking wine.”

Derek sat on the bed again and fell into thought while looking at her. Though he hadn’t heard the details, it seemed his “duchess” had hardships he didn’t know about.

Of course, everyone had their own worries and struggles, but Derek had never thought to consider her hardships. That was probably because he hadn’t thought of her as his person. 

Even though they’d made solemn vows witnessed by the high priest and spent the night together.

Yet even with such a husband, Etia had spoken of “the duchess’s duty.” And that planted guilt in Derek.

Derek, looking down at her, felt a faint displeasure pass through him. Though Etia had done nothing wrong, that feeling was definitely “displeasure.” Derek frowned.

He dismissed it as stray thoughts and stood up. Despite his grim expression, he closed the door very carefully and left the room. Thinking he’d make sure no one offered her alcohol.

* * *

Experiencing a hangover for the first time in her life, Etia literally felt like death.

“My lady. Here’s honey water. Drink it slowly.”

“Thank you.”

Not even knowing when she’d fallen asleep, Etia barely woke up, unable to resist the sunlight coming through the window. She groaned involuntarily from the headache that struck simultaneously. 

That natural phenomenon only flustered Etia. Her personal maid was also quite startled seeing her in the morning, having never seen her like this since she became duchess.

But Etia had no time to care about others’ gazes. Desperately trying to settle her churning stomach, she could only gradually regain her senses after the sun reached its peak. And only then, remembering last night’s events, she felt like death again.

“I must have been crazy. Why did I drink so much when I can’t even hold my liquor?”

Etia wanted to hide from embarrassment at Derek’s image appearing sporadically in her hazy memories. 

Figuring she had nothing to do anyway, she used the hangover as an excuse and didn’t leave her room. Yet last night’s events tormented her regardless, making her feel the same whether she went out or not.

Yesterday her plan had completely failed. Not just failed. She’d made mistakes too.

“Why on earth did I ask that question?”

Etia felt Derek’s troubled face floating before her eyes. That expression of his was definitely negative emotion. A completely different reaction from what she’d expected. 

In short, everything Etia had anticipated was the wrong answer for Derek.

Moreover, she’d shamelessly plopped herself onto the man’s lap—what madness was that? 

No matter how drunk, Etia couldn’t understand her own actions. How could she make such a mistake when she wasn’t some one or two-year-old child?

“My lady.”

But no matter how much Etia blamed herself, Derek, who couldn’t know her feelings, came to her room upon hearing she was bedridden. 

Etia, who’d been tormenting herself by clutching her head under the blankets, felt her body stiffen at Derek’s voice from behind.

“Are you still unwell?”

Not even knowing he’d entered the room, Etia was extremely flustered by his voice. Unable to face him as memories of last night surfaced simultaneously, Etia pretended to sleep while lying down.

She felt cold sweat running down her back. Since she’d said it was cold, had Mary put too much wood in the fireplace? 

She thought random thoughts while praying Derek would leave quickly.

Fortunately, either not noticing her acting or after checking her condition, Derek quietly left the room again. At the heavy sound of the door, Etia let out a sigh of relief.

“This is terrible…”

The future looked bleak.

* * *

While Etia was drowning in despair, Derek was out at the training grounds to fulfill the day’s schedule.

Though the knight he’d left in charge during his absence had fortunately guided the other knights well so they didn’t neglect training, he couldn’t help but worry. Derek kept reviewing whether there was anything to improve while watching the training knights.

After continuing to observe training, Derek moved to the temporary office next to the training grounds and examined the training logs. 

Though he’d already looked at them numerous times, Derek felt somehow unable to concentrate. Since he’d been constantly concerned with knight order management and training after returning from the campaign anyway, there was nothing more to examine.

Eventually Derek put down the materials he was holding and let out a deep sigh. Last night’s events made his mind noisy for Derek too. He just didn’t know what he should do for her.

Derek had thought Etia was living well. Though he’d expected adaptation would be difficult since she came from Valere, which had the South’s greatest wealth and power, when he asked about what had happened after arriving from the campaign, she’d been living without major problems.

However, knowing she wanted divorce, he’d thought she was indeed forcing herself to live in an unsuitable land. But he hadn’t expected she’d have an obsession with the duchess’s duties.

That’s why Derek felt even more complicated. Why would she, who wanted divorce, want to fulfill the duchess’s duties? Why did she look so sad when talking about having children? 

No matter how much he pondered, these were aspects Derek, who’d only wandered battlefields, couldn’t understand.

“Was my absence actually helpful to her?”

Derek, who’d always felt faint guilt about marrying her unwillingly and bringing her to harsh Sylvester, found that guilt growing even more from last night’s events.

Then commotion came from outside. Going out to see what was happening, he saw the Crown Prince drawing his sword at the training grounds. 

Judging by his smile, he seemed to want a simple sparring match, but he was holding a real sword, so Derek approached him with a stiff face.

“What brings you here? You’ve already inspected as much as you wanted.”

“Ah, Duke. Good morning. I just came out feeling restless. I happened to see the knights training, so I asked to join in.”

“Who would spar with His Highness the Crown Prince? If they caused even a scratch, heads would roll.”

“I’m not that inflexible! Who would k*ll someone over wounds from sparring?”

“You never know. Some rigid people might do just that.”