Special Side Story 1

Late in the evening, the lights in the study of the ducal residence remained on.  

Scratch, scratch. Each time the pen tip wandered over the paper, smooth handwriting appeared.  

The soft glow of the lamp cast a shadow as it was partially blocked.  

“Dyffrin, take a break for a while.”  

Evelyn entered the study carrying a steaming teacup and approached Dyffrin’s side.  

She set down the teacup and naturally began to gently massage his shoulders. He put down his pen and caressed Evelyn’s arm.  

“You’re the one who should be resting. Why aren’t you sleeping?”  

He was more concerned about Evelyn, who was struggling with childcare even more than himself.  

Elia and Woody grew taller every year, but that didn’t mean they required any less attention.  

Elia, mature for her age, acted overly composed and drew even more attention, while the sensitive and delicate Woody was entering puberty early.  

“Don’t worry about me. Actually, I just woke up after a short nap.”  

Dyffrin’s eyebrows rose slightly. Soon, he pulled the sighing Evelyn into his arms.  

“It’s not good for your sleep to become irregular.”  

Evelyn, accustomed to it, leaned her face against Dyffrin’s broad, firm chest and smiled.  

“If you don’t want my sleep to be irregular, finish your work quickly. The bed feels too big without you, so I can’t fall asleep.”  

Recently, Dyffrin had been traveling frequently for work, and since returning home, he had been catching up on the ducal household’s backlog.  

It was still his responsibility to ensure that the ducal residence ran smoothly during his absence, no matter how hectic things were outside.  

“If you say that, I can’t get any work done.”  

“Well.”  

Evelyn tugged on Dyffrin’s shirt collar, pulling their faces closer.  

Smack—a fleeting kiss landed and then vanished in the blink of an eye.  

After that mirage-like kiss, Evelyn quickly slipped out of Dyffrin’s embrace.  

To tease him and then run away—Dyffrin narrowed his eyes at his cheeky yet lovable wife.  

“Evelyn.”  

“If you think about the upcoming summer solstice festival at the Liwonoc Duchy, you’ll want to finish quickly, won’t you?”  

Just as Evelyn said, a major local festival was approaching.  

On the day of the summer solstice festival, people make flower crowns, gather in the square to dance, and share delicious food.  

At the end, they float the flower crowns down the stream, wishing for good fortune and peace for the year.  

Dyffrin had promised to go to this festival with Evelyn, just the two of them.  

“I came to cheer you on, not to distract you.”  

With a light twirl, Evelyn’s skirt fluttered, and her face shone with a clear smile.  

That smile calmed the heat that had suddenly risen in Dyffrin’s chest.  

Instead, a gentle happiness welled up inside him.  

Some say love is fleeting, but Dyffrin never thought so.  

Even after years had passed, his wife was still as lovely and beautiful as ever. When he buried his nose in her nape, she smelled fresh and sweet, and when she showed such lively energy, she seemed like an eternal girl.  

Dyffrin knew he would love his wife forever.  

Hmm—  

Evelyn hummed a tune as she lightly stepped out of the study.  

Her footsteps alone made the once-dark study feel as warm and cozy as a spring breeze.  

“Evelyn.”  

Dyffrin impulsively called out her name.  

“Yes?”  

Curiosity in her voice, Evelyn turned her head, her long hair fluttering.  

Dyffrin gazed for a long moment into her slowly blinking brown eyes, then shook his head with a soft smile.  

“It’s nothing.”  

Evelyn, tilting her head at the bland answer, grumbled as she left the study.  

Click. The door closed, and even though the lamp’s light was no longer blocked by the “intruder,” his gaze remained fixed on the spot where Evelyn had been.  

‘When did it start?’  

Dyffrin suddenly wondered when he had fallen in love with Evelyn.  

It didn’t take long for him to find the answer.  

He had fallen in love not long after their wedding.  

Back then, he was too foolish to realize it was love.  

Around that time, Evelyn acted like a completely different person.  

His suspicion of her lasted only a short while. While he didn’t notice, his feelings grew unshakeable—like rain soaking into parched earth and making it solid.  

He had known her for years, so why did he only develop such feelings so late?  

Maybe he had realized that Evelyn was a completely different person from before.  

People can change suddenly, but habits and mannerisms aren’t so easily altered.  

Yet, after their marriage, Evelyn had none of the old habits he remembered.  

Dyffrin knew this, but he ambiguously pretended not to know the truth, letting time pass.  

His subconscious desire to focus only on the woman before him blurred his insight.  

Even now, having realized it, he had no intention of asking his wife for the reason.  

Like the fairy in Woody’s storybook, she might disappear if her true identity was revealed.  

It was a trivial story, but Evelyn was someone who made even the slightest possibility seem frightening to Dyffrin.  

So, the truth wasn’t necessary.  

He only recalled his former self, floundering in arrogance and wariness, unable to be honest with his feelings.  

Once again, Dyffrin remembered the days when he fell in love.  

The lamp’s light flickered in the darkness, as if dancing.

* * *

Back in time, on the day of the wedding.  

The bride standing before him was beautiful.  

But that was all.  

Dyffrin reminded himself again how exhausting Evelyn could be.  

Evelyn, tearful and sensitive, had never suited him since childhood.  

Even setting aside her humble family and everyone’s opposition, she was a difficult person to handle.  

‘Phew.’  

To spend a lifetime with a woman at the edge of incompatibility—no matter how much he steeled himself, it was a fact that made him sigh.  

If they lived together like this, the persistent headaches she caused would never go away.  

He was certain he’d thought that on their wedding day.  

But as Dyffrin began living with Evelyn, he realized his prediction was gradually proving wrong.  

“Visits to my room late at night are allowed only between six and ten o’clock. Be sure to knock four times so you’re not mistaken for a maid. I’m still not used to this place, so I don’t want to accidentally use honorifics with the maids.”  

Evelyn was the first to set rules for their relationship. The rules were neat and clear, with no messiness or lingering regrets.  

Dyffrin actually felt uncomfortable with Evelyn’s attitude.  

And then, the unbelievable began in earnest.  

Evelyn took charge of the maids’ discipline and, without being asked, renovated the old mansion.  

Even Rykal, who looked down on her, was won over, leaving Dyffrin speechless.  

The Evelyn he knew would have cried enough tears to fill a pond by now. But this—what on earth was going on?  

One day, as usual, Dyffrin returned home from work and found Evelyn reading a book on the living room sofa.  

She seemed so absorbed that she hadn’t noticed his arrival.  

He held his breath and watched Evelyn as she read.  

Her light brown hair was neatly braided, her pale face, her thin lips.  

Expressionless, she looked exactly as he remembered.  

But when life flickered in her eyes, she became someone else entirely.  

“Master, you’re home?”  

Merrilyn belatedly noticed Dyffrin standing there and hurriedly approached, bowing her head.  

Only then did Evelyn realize Dyffrin was home, snapping her head up to look at him.  

Dyffrin didn’t particularly welcome the breaking of the silence.  

“You could have made some noise when you came in. You startled me.”  

Her gentle scolding changed the atmosphere around her.  

Just a single sentence, and she seemed like a different person. Dyffrin stared at her for a moment, then turned away and handed his coat to Merrilyn.  

Without answering, he started up the stairs, but Evelyn snapped her book shut and hurried over.  

“Wait a moment!”  

Startled by how quickly Evelyn had come right up to him, Dyffrin was caught off guard as she suddenly reached out and rubbed his chest.  

Her slender fingers touched a place he hadn’t expected, and his heart dropped as if broken.  

Meanwhile, Evelyn, brow furrowed, focused solely on her actions.  

“There’s a stain on your shirt. How could someone so careful get so messy?”  

A stain…  

Ignoring the strange sense of weakness, Dyffrin replied,  

“…It’s just ink from bumping into the secretary.”  

Evelyn spoke seriously.  

“This shirt will have to be thrown away. The stain won’t come out.”  

She instructed Merrilyn not to wash the shirt but to throw it away.  

Then, muttering “What a waste…,” she picked up her book and disappeared up the stairs first.  

“…”  

Dyffrin, his eyes narrowed, glared at the spot where Evelyn had vanished.  

The spot on his right chest where Evelyn’s hand had touched felt as if it had been burned.