The carriage carrying the Marquis and Marchioness of Havertz and their children overturned in an accident, and the entire Havertz inheritance passed to Thear. It was an unfortunate accident and an unsettling death.

The distinguished nobles with ties to the Havertz Marquisate each suspected Thear had a hand in it, but Thear was innocent.

Because it truly was an accident.

The illegitimate son who had been treated with contempt now began to move through noble society under the name of Marquis of Havertz.

The nobles had to acknowledge him whether they liked it or not, and Thear put on full display the abilities he had kept hidden until then.

The Viscount of Asherton was one of those who grudgingly accepted him.

“In his lifetime, His Lordship the Marquis….”

The Viscount visited the marquisate and dragged out the conversation with pointless small talk.

“If there is anything I can do to help, I will do so wholeheartedly.”

So Thear threw out the bait without hesitation. The Viscount of Asherton took it just as readily.

“So that’s what happened.”

The crux of it was money. Apparently he had run a large business venture straight into the ground. But that wasn’t the root cause.

Everyone knew he had fallen into gambling the year before.

“Now that my daughter is approaching the age of marriage, it is only a father’s duty to at least prepare a dowry for her. I humbly ask for your understanding.”

The Viscount of Asherton swallowed his pride for the sake of money.

“She came of age over a year ago now. Perhaps because there is no dowry to speak of, not a single marriage proposal has come in, and the poor girl is quite distressed.”

The n*ked appeal for sympathy moved something in Thear.

The guileless young man who had washed his hair several times just to look his best, who had wanted to ask her to dance with proper courtesy, was gone now.

Worn down by the years, he had grown shrewd enough to take advantage of an opportunity when he saw one.

“In that case, what if I were to send a marriage proposal?”

Thear decided to keep Lysiana by his side.

He felt that was the only way this suffocating feeling would go away.

He didn’t mind that it amounted to buying her like a transaction.

He would no longer ask her to dance with proper courtesy, but if he treated her well at his side, wouldn’t she open up to him in time?

“As it happens, I too have been looking for a good match.”

Thear, lost in his own arrogant delusion, wielded money as a weapon and forced the marriage through.

“I chose it on my own because I thought it would suit you. If it’s not to your taste, I’ll buy you something new.”

“No. I like this one too.”

When he met Lysiana again….

“…Thank you, Your Lordship.”

She didn’t remember Thear at all.

It would be a lie to say he wasn’t disappointed. But Lysiana had become his woman either way, so it was fine.

Consoling himself with that shallow excuse, Thear found himself restless and eager to stay close to Lysiana.

“I’m thinking of having the garden redone. If there are any plants you like, you’re welcome to have the gardener arrange it however you please.”

“…Yes. I’ll try not to embarrass you.”

But Lysiana met every gesture of goodwill from Thear with cold refusal.

Her expression was always blank, and those pretty eyes always looked down at the floor.

Naturally, she never wore so much as a trace of a smile.

When he asked a servant to inquire, he learned that she spent most of her day shut up in her room, staring out the window.

Whether she simply had no particular hobbies, or whether she had no desire to keep any in Thear’s presence, he couldn’t say.

Lysiana, who had behaved like an emotionless doll all the way through the wedding day, finally let her composure crack on their wedding night.

* * *

“Lysia…. My lady.”

Sitting alone on the bed, she flinched at the sound of Thear’s approach, her shoulders trembling.

The sight of her, swallowed up in fear as though she faced some terrible monster, brought a rush of feelings he could not put into words.

A measure of resentment, a measure of anger, and beyond that, a helpless sorrow, and beneath it all, something base and desperate that wanted to shatter that fear and be wanted by her….

Petty, trivial feelings, all of them.

The closer Thear drew, the further Lysiana shrank into herself.

When he finally rested a hand lightly on her small, slight shoulders, a clouded gaze lifted to meet his.

“Is the room cold?”

He asked even though he knew it wasn’t. He thought that if he showed concern, however clumsily, she might ease a little. But rather than opening up to him, Lysiana simply resigned herself.

“……No. I’m fine…….”

She shook her head weakly and began to undress on her own.

Rustle. The soft sound of fabric brushing skin and the sound of dry, shallow breaths filled the empty room.

Stripped bare in an instant, Lysiana bit down hard on her lip and dropped her head low, as though fighting back a wave of shame.

Thear hesitated. If he turned and walked out now, she would be branded a bride abandoned on her wedding night.

But if he held her like this, would she not carry a wound that could never be washed away?

Lysiana was the one person who had never hurt him, and he had no wish to hurt her. But it was already too late.

Lysiana had already steeled herself for humiliation. If Thear did not go through with it, she would have to live under his roof carrying that wretched feeling with her.

Let’s take it slowly.

He would earn her trust little by little, and layer good memories over this one until it faded. Then perhaps someday Lysiana would forget this night.

“My lady.”

Thear carefully wrapped his arms around Lysiana’s back. He measured the distance with care so the contact wouldn’t feel too heavy, and held her lukewarm body close.

He drew his hand very lightly down her skin, where fine hairs stood on end, then gently laid her down on the bed.

“I won’t hurt you. So if it does hurt…….”

He leaned down and pressed his lips to Lysiana’s in the lightest possible kiss. So faint it barely counted as a touch.

He left the rest of the sentence unfinished because he didn’t think he could keep such a reckless promise.

Thear watched Lysiana for a moment, her head turned sharply away as though to shut him out, then began.

He traced the contours of her body with careful hands, and in the end spread her dry thighs and pressed forward.

Her body, locked rigid with tension, showed no sign of yielding, and he had no choice but to try another way.

Thear wet his fingers with saliva and worked them inside her.

“Hng.”

Lysiana drew in a small, sharp breath. Her trembling white thighs spoke for her, telling him how much pain she was taking from all of this.

“Does it hurt?”

“…….”

Lysiana shook her head instead of answering. But Thear saw the lie immediately.

The crease of pain between her brows told him everything. Cold sweat began to seep into her dry skin.

“……My lady. Shall I slow down?”

“……I’m fi, fine.”

Lysiana gasped out the words between held breaths.

Thear weighed the meaning behind them carefully. Would it be better for her to have this hellish time end quickly?

“…….”

He deliberated for a moment, then reached toward the nightstand. A small glass jar of herb oil sat there, prepared in advance for the wedding night.

He poured a generous amount into his palm. When his now slick hand touched her again, Lysiana shivered faintly.

“I’ll be as gentle as I can. Try to relax.”

His fingers pushed through the tightly closed entrance and worked their way inside her.

Lysiana lay with her eyes squeezed shut, enduring the feeling of Thear’s fingers moving inside her.

Her head turned stubbornly to the side, her arm thrown over her eyes, she looked for all the world like she was fighting desperately to shut him out.

It hurt to see. A needle-sharp ache spread through his chest and his gut ran hot.

He thought being ground into the mud under a boot heel would be less humiliating than this.

And yet, could the pain of a woman who had let a man she didn’t love inside her be any less than what he felt?

Thear had to admit it. That Lysiana found him unbearable.

So he would never lay a hand on her again after this.

Just tonight.

He withdrew the fingers he had been working against her inner walls and reached for the oil again.

He spread the thick, slippery liquid over himself and settled between Lysiana’s thighs.

Just bear with it for tonight.

He forced the tangled thoughts from his mind. He lined himself up against her entrance, hot and barely slick, and slowly pushed forward.

“Ah, ugh…….”

It must have hurt badly, because Lysiana bit down hard on her lower lip.

She’ll bruise.

Thear thought back to Lysiana at the wedding ceremony.

He recalled the clear green eyes, bright as new spring shoots, and the soft round tip of her nose when he lifted the white veil. The small lips tinted a delicate pink.

He turned it all over clearly in his mind, down to that wave of feeling he couldn’t name that had washed over him the moment he pressed his lips to hers after they exchanged their vows before God.

“Does it hurt?”

Thear cupped Lysiana’s chin lightly. A slight press of his thumb and her lips parted without resistance.

He had meant to tilt her face up for a kiss, but Thear had no intention of forcing his mouth on a wife who didn’t want it. For now, it was enough that she not ruin those pretty lips.

“You’ll break the skin.”

He said it as he slipped his thumb between her even teeth.

“Bite me instead.”

Thear genuinely thought it would be better for Lysiana to bite his finger than her own lip.

But Lysiana chose to sob instead of biting him.

“Hng……. Uh, hh…….”

“If it hurts too much, I’ll stop.”

“I’m fine. I’m fine, so just…….”

He felt for her, hearing her gasp through a voice thick with tears.

In the end, Thear decided to honor her wishes and bring this to a close as quickly as he could. He forced himself to ignore her pain-twisted expression and drove into her slight body with purpose, pressing toward the end.

When Thear finally spent himself inside her, Lysiana lay half-unconscious with exhaustion.

“……My lady.”

He tried to rouse her, but her wet lashes only fluttered faintly.

Thear wiped her body clean with a soft towel, erasing every trace of himself.

He picked up the nightgown she had taken off herself and dressed her in it, then pulled the blanket up to her chin so she wouldn’t get cold while she slept.

He sat down on the far edge of the bed. The spot farthest from Lysiana.

In the room grown dim with the last of the candle wick burned away, he sat alone and turned his wretchedness over and over in his mind. Then, in the pale gray of early dawn, he quietly left.

Lysiana opened her eyes only after even that last small trace of his warmth had gone.

An empty room. Alone, on a vast bed that held the warmth of only one person.