“This is the kind of relationship we had.”

His low voice caressed her ear, burrowing deep into her senses. It was darkly suggestive enough to raise goosebumps on her arms.

“Ha.”

A light laugh suddenly fell upon her rigid head.

The arm around her waist loosened, and the lingering scent drifted away.

“I was joking.”

“……”

“You’re so easily startled.”

At his quiet murmur, the confusion that had clouded her mind moments earlier slowly cleared.

Only then did she realize that she had been holding her breath. She exhaled slowly and shakily.

“Th–that joke… was in poor taste.”

It had gone too far.

It was not a joke that should be made to a married woman.

Even if she hadn’t been married, it was wrong to treat someone so carelessly.

And this was the rear garden of the imperial palace.

Although it was usually secluded, on a night like this, when a grand banquet was in full swing, people would always seek out hidden corners for private meetings. If they had been discovered, the consequences would have been severe.

Rumors about her were already growing, swelling like a snowball rolling downhill. Bel didn’t care what others said about her, but she couldn’t bear the thought of Damian getting hurt because of it.

Her only wish was to remain unnoticed and leave quietly, without drawing further attention.

“I apologize. I have been discourteous. Before you lost your memory, we often exchanged lighthearted jests. I momentarily forgot myself.”

Despite her private worry that he might react defensively by invoking his rank and blaming her, Fabian apologized at once.

Bel didn’t want to make matters worse either and was about to let the issue pass quietly when—

“What business do you have with my wife?”

Damian pulled Bel sharply into his arms.

Her small, light frame trembled for a moment within his embrace. He noticed this, but did not loosen his grip. Instead, he tightened his grip.

Enclosed within his arms, Bel was too startled to speak. Her eyes moved restlessly, searching in confusion. She hadn’t even noticed when he arrived.

Had he seen Fabian holding her?

Nothing improper had happened. And yet, from a distance, the scene could easily have been misconstrued.

A tight knot of anxiety formed in her chest, making breathing difficult.

“Let us not be so hostile, Brother.”

Unlike Bel, who was clearly unsettled, Fabian showed no sign of surprise at Damian’s sudden appearance.

His calm, golden gaze shifted to the arm firmly wrapped around Bel’s waist. Damian’s stance was unmistakably possessive.

“I merely came to offer the greeting I failed to give at the wedding.”

A leisurely smile curved Fabian’s lips.

That easy expression irritated Damian all the more—precisely because he knew Fabian was not a man to smile without reason.

“Your Highness.”

Damian’s attention was drawn downwards by a small tug at his coat. The tiny hand clutching his clothes, accompanied by a faint voice, conveyed a sense of urgency and unease.

He glanced at Fabian briefly before looking away and guiding Bel away.

“It seems the greeting has been delivered. We shall take our leave.”

“Y–Your Highness, we should properly—”

“There is no need.”

Damian left without saying goodbye. When Bel tried to protest, feeling flustered, he insisted it was unnecessary and continued walking.

Nevertheless, feeling it improper not to, Bel turned her head to offer a greeting.

Fabian raised his hand in response.

Although he knew she could not see him, he waved anyway.

“……”

Damian pulled Bel sharply into his arms.

Her small, light frame trembled for a moment within his embrace. He noticed this, but did not loosen his grip. Instead, he tightened his grip.

Enclosed within his arms, Bel was too startled to speak. Her eyes moved restlessly, searching in confusion. She hadn’t even noticed when he arrived.

Had he seen Fabian holding her?

Nothing improper had happened. And yet, from a distance, the scene could easily have been misconstrued.

A tight knot of anxiety formed in her chest, making breathing difficult.

“She’s someone else entirely.”

His quiet murmur echoed through the empty garden.

***

“What did the Crown Prince do?”

Damian’s low voice blended with the sound of the rattling carriage wheels.

Still feeling dazed, Bel composed herself and finally answered his question.

“A–ah, no. It wasn’t like that.”

She lifted her pale hand and waved it in denial.

Even if she explained what had happened, she didn’t think that Damian would suspect her of flirting with another man. But that wasn’t the point. She simply did not want to trouble him with something unnecessary.

Damian’s eyes remained fixed on the thin veil between them — a fragile barrier. With her face hidden behind it, he could not tell whether she was being truthful or hiding something, and that uncertainty unsettled him.

His gaze slowly drifted down to the edge of the veil, swaying gently with the movement of the carriage. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her fingers moving restlessly.

The hand that had once played with her wedding ring was now picking at the skin beside her nail.

A habit, perhaps.

He had once heard that marriage revealed small habits in one’s spouse that had gone unnoticed before. Perhaps this was what that meant.

He did not frown, nor did his feelings waver. If anything, he was only concerned that she might hurt herself.

He watched her in silence, waiting patiently until her fingers were still, before finally speaking.

“It would be best not to grow close to the Crown Prince.”

Before Bel could fully grasp his meaning, he continued.

“He and I are cousins, but we stand in political opposition. If you are seen together, unnecessary rumors may arise.”

Although Damian was of imperial blood, Fabian was the rightful heir. Although Fabian was the rightful heir, the Emperor favored Damian. In terms of ability, Damian clearly surpassed him, too.

Yet Damian had renounced his claim. Consequently, Fabian was able to secure the title of Crown Prince without bloodshed.

Nevertheless, the Emperor had once implied that he would not stand in Damian’s way if he ever wanted to reclaim his place. Until the Emperor’s death, Damian’s right of succession had simply been overlooked, not revoked.

Unsurprisingly, the Empress bristled at the mere sight of him. The Emperor cherished his sister’s son more openly than his own child. It was only natural that she would direct her resentment towards Damian.

In such fragile circumstances, if Bel were seen growing close to the Crown Prince, political rumors would spread like wildfire, regardless of her intentions.

“Ah… I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

Bel was struck anew by how little she truly understood.

After all, she had barely left the Baron’s estate, let alone navigated society. It was no surprise that she was ignorant of such matters. Nevertheless, she was ashamed of her ignorance, regardless of the reason.

Lowering her head in embarrassment, she unconsciously began twiddling her fingers again. Before her fingers could bleed, Damian spoke.

“I am not angry. There is no need to apologize.”

He gently took her hand, which was resting on her lap, in his large one. He interlaced their fingers, then lifted the back of her hand to his lips.

“……!”

From the moment his warm breath brushed her delicate skin, Bel stiffened. When his lips touched hers, she felt a sharp sensation shoot down her neck.

His impatient lips found her fingers. He lightly bit the tip of one before releasing it.

“Stop tormenting your poor fingers.”

“……”

“If your hand is injured, would that not trouble me?”

He was standing far too close.

The low murmur of his voice and the warmth of his breath against her skin sent her thoughts into disarray. Her heart was beating faster than it had when she stood beside Fabian.

Her palms were already damp with nervous sweat. Embarrassment urged her to pull away, but his steady grip prevented her from escaping. Once again, her hand was gently pressed against his lips.

A heat bloomed in her chest and spread until it felt almost overwhelming. The intimacy of the gesture made her light-headed. Like a mermaid stripped of her voice, she could only surrender in silence.

Their fingers slowly parted.

This time, Damian lifted her hand himself and guided her palm to his lips. Her pale hand came to rest against his cheek, the warmth of his skin seeping softly into her trembling fingers.

“If you must fidget, you may borrow my hand instead.”

“What? N–no. How could I possibly use Y–Your Highness’s hand…?”

Dazed and confused, Bel traced his features with her fingertips. Suddenly, she jumped and stumbled over her words.

Only after he extracted a promise that she would stop tormenting her fingers did Damian finally release her hand.

Even once freed, her right hand felt as though it no longer belonged to her. The sensations lingering on her palm, the back of her hand and her fingers were still vivid.

Heat crept up to the tips of her ears, staining them red.

Bel leaned more heavily against the carriage window and lowered her head.

Thud. Thud.

Her heart pounded violently.

This was not a good sign.

Nevertheless, she could not stop the emotions surging through her like water from a broken dam.

***

After returning from the banquet, the following days were surprisingly peaceful.

She would wake up in the morning, have a light meal, and then spend the quiet hours reading a rare Braille book that had been brought from the Western Lands. At lunchtime, she would join Damian for a meal, after which they would stroll together through the garden.

Damian was a thoughtful and attentive man.

Any woman would have found herself drawn to him.

Bel was no different.

When she had first been sold to the Grand Ducal estate, she had kept her face hidden. She believed that she was nothing like Isabel, and that once Damian realized how different she truly was, he would lose interest in her. She expected to be cast aside.

In truth, she had even hoped for it.

But she could not have been more wrong.

Damian didn’t care if Isabel stammered or had lost her sight. He didn’t care if he became the b*tt of jokes because of her.

Bel had fallen in love with the man she had once hoped would reject her.

Where there had once been only loneliness drifting like dust in the hollow place within her chest, a warm breeze now stirred, like the arrival of spring.

This sweetness and comfort was something she never wanted to lose again.

Even though she knew he was searching for Isabel, not her, she was still grateful.

‘What should I do…?’

She knew these feelings were wrong.

Her mind understood this clearly, but her heart would not yield to reason so easily. If someone were to call her selfish or disgraceful, she would have no way of defending herself.

When she realized that Damian had become the subject of ridicule because of her, Bel resolved to tell him the truth and ask for a divorce.

She lifted her hand and gently pressed her nose against the back of it, where his lips had been not long ago.

As she inhaled, she thought she could still catch the faint trace of his scent.

She buried her face deeper into her skin as though trying to hold on to the warmth that lingered there.

‘Just a little longer… just for a moment.’

Wait until these fiercely boiling emotions have subsided.

Give her enough time to calm down.

After that, she will never be greedy again. She would no longer desire his affection or yearn for his gentleness.

Immersed in a life that had become far too peaceful, Bel did not yet realize how foolish and selfish her choice had been, nor that she had failed to confess and atone while she still had the chance.