She had been there until just before Curtis left the chapel. No matter how indifferent Curtis was to others, he wasn’t so careless as to completely forget his wife at an official gathering like this.

Even if he had no personal feelings for her, it was his duty to accompany his wife.

He could not have been mistaken – Dalia Fraser was gone.

Curtis’ eyebrows furrowed slightly, his lips pressed into a tight line. In an instant, the air around him turned icy and heavy, causing those nearby to instinctively shrink back or harden their expressions in response.

A moment later, he took a step – one, then another – towards where Dalia had been standing.

The people in his path moved aside without hesitation, as if the sea were parting to make way for him.

From the moment Curtis began to move, the murmur that had filled the chapel began to fade.

And when he finally stopped at the exact spot where Dalia had been standing, all sound disappeared completely. A deathly silence fell over the entire chapel.

A gulp.

The sound of someone swallowing dryly was so loud that the person doing it instinctively shrank back in embarrassment.

But more than that, the sheer presence of one individual was enough to weigh down and silence the entire assembly of the Empire’s most distinguished figures.

Amidst the suffocating tension, as if all were skating on thin ice, one noblewoman unconsciously rubbed her shoulders, trying to shake off the inexplicable chill that ran down her spine.

“Where is my wife?”

A deep voice, as if rising from the depths of a dark and hollow cave, echoed through the chapel.

And only then did they realise that Dalia Fraser was no longer there.

Confusion gripped those who had previously surrounded her, their faces a mixture of shock and uncertainty.

But despite their confusion, no one dared speak.

And how could she? While everyone’s attention had been focused on the accident outside, the Duchess had suddenly vanished without anyone noticing.

There was no one to blame. But who would have the courage to explain what had happened?

In front of Curtis Fraser, who was colder than the winter wind blowing through the stained glass windows, everyone held their tongues, not daring to say a word.

As the furrow in Curtis’s brow deepened and he was about to speak again, a figure suddenly emerged from the corridor leading from the chapel to the inner chambers of the temple, its silhouette outlined by a faint glow.

“Ah, I was feeling a bit dizzy, so I stepped back to rest for a moment.”

Though her voice was not particularly loud, it was enough to echo through the silent chapel.

A few people, recognising the owner of the voice, immediately lit up.

“Duchess!”

Some of those who had been near Dalia, struggling under the weight of Curtis’ oppressive presence, unconsciously called out to her in relief.

In her haste to return, Dalia hadn’t noticed the situation in the chapel. It was only when she returned that she realised what was happening.

‘This… could have gone terribly wrong.’

Although she had made an almost perfect excuse, there was a chance that this incident might have an effect on her future plans. Without realising it, she took a sharp breath before pressing her lips together tightly.

She should have arrived earlier.

Meanwhile, Curtis just stood there, watching her in silence. From the moment she had appeared, his gaze had been fixed on her, unwavering.

Her cheeks were pale – almost colourless – and her breathing was slightly uneven.

Her pale green eyes were slightly widened and her smooth golden hair flowed gently over her shoulders. 

Dalia did not look at Curtis until he had thoroughly examined her from head to toe – until he had confirmed that she was fully present, neither shattered like fragile glass nor dissipated like smoke. 

But the moment Curtis realised that the green eyes that had always followed him were no longer fixed on him, he instinctively reached out for her. 

The moment he unconsciously tightened his grip and pulled on her slender arm –

Dalia fell into his embrace. 

One arm was wrapped tightly around her waist, while the other gently cradled the exposed nape of her neck, revealed by her neatly pinned up hair.

The soft curves of her back and chest, lightly pressed between them, the fine strands of hair fluttering at her nape, and most of all, the faint, uneven rhythm of her breath brushing against him.

In that moment –

When Dalia’s warmth reached him –

For the first time in his life, Curtis vividly felt the heat of another person searing his skin, as if it were setting him on fire.

He who had been born flawless – needing nothing, interested in nothing, and never tied to anything or anyone.

He was indifferent to others, and because he had no interest, he was cold.

But even though he had no need for other people, he was always surrounded by them.

It was an unchanging reality – from the moment he opened his eyes to the moment he closed them.

To Curtis Fraser, other people were no different from passing scenery.

Having grown up in overwhelming abundance, he never experienced lack. And because he never experienced lack, he never understood the concept of scarcity.

Dalia Fraser.

The Duchess who became his wife was no exception.

A union born of necessity.

An agreement bound by duty.

A decision made for the sake of their families. 

But at some point – one he hadn’t even noticed – a rift had formed. 

A change in her, too sudden but seemingly small, had stirred the still, windless lake that was his world. 

And now, with Dalia’s warmth against him and the soft sigh of her breath on his chest, Curtis realised for the first time in his life that another person – someone other than himself – was not just a stranger, but a unique and irreplaceable presence.

It was an event neither Curtis nor Dalia had ever expected – an unforeseen event, similar to the moment Dalia had fallen for Curtis at first sight.

The only difference was whether they were aware of it or not.

While Curtis’ heart fell from the sky and crashed deep into the earth, Dalia’s heart remained perfectly still.

The fresh air of the New Year carried the scent of the cool breeze outside, mixed with a deep and weighty woody scent that lingered in the air.

Suddenly pulled against his firm chest, Dalia blinked in surprise.

And the reason why she couldn’t immediately grasp the situation was simple.

Curtis Fraser embracing Dalia Gruy was simply not supposed to happen.

They were now entering their second year of marriage, yet they had never consummated their union.

It wasn’t that Curtis had an unusual aversion to physical contact or a phobia of germs, but rather that he simply didn’t bother when it wasn’t necessary.

“An heir is not an urgent matter. But if you want one, just let me know.”

His crystal clear eyes had looked at her as he spoke, and Dalia had only nodded in response.

For, as he had said, there was no urgency.

As he had said, if she ever wanted it, all she had to do was ask.

But in the end, such logical reasoning was nothing more than an excuse.

The real reason she hadn’t been able to shake her head in refusal that day was simple – she was afraid that if she contradicted Curtis’ words, he would look at her with disapproval.

Goodness. It was clear that love really did have the power to fool people.

To think that she had deluded herself into thinking that Curtis would see her in some special way just because she reacted to a single remark –

What a ridiculous fantasy.

In any case, since Curtis avoided unnecessary physical contact, the extent of their interactions had always been limited to formal gestures – her holding onto his arm as he escorted her, or lightly resting her palm on the back of his hand.

One day, for the sake of an heir, they would have to share a bed.

But Curtis had never set foot in the Duke and Duchess’s bedroom.

There was no chance of them bumping into each other while sleeping in the same bed – no chance of them embracing, even accidentally.

Before her regression, Dalia had never dared to invite him into the marital bedroom for fear that he would dislike her even more.

But after her regression, she hadn’t even tried to take him there, afraid it might cause unnecessary complications.

So any contact between them had only ever been out of necessity, and for the present Dalia, that was enough.

Enough – more than enough.

And yet… what was this?

For a few seconds, Dalia remained completely still in Curtis’s embrace, unable to move even the tips of her fingers.

Meanwhile, those around her were frozen in shock, their eyes wide with disbelief.

But only for a moment.

Dalia quickly grasped the situation and turned her thoughts quickly.

They had already attracted everyone’s attention.

And even more unbelievably, Curtis Fraser, for reasons unknown, had suddenly pulled her into his arms.

What on earth was happening?

But the doubt lasted only a moment.

The heart that had stopped beating for him, and the long-held goal of escape through death, sharpened Dalia’s mind with new clarity.

This incident, especially when combined with the accident outside, would undoubtedly be a major topic of discussion in the Empire for some time to come.

If that was the case, all she had to do was use it to her advantage.

Dalia lifted her face from Curtis’s chest, solid, unyielding, like steel.

And instead of the flawless, picturesque smile she usually wore in front of others, she smiled radiantly – like someone truly in love.

Brighter than spring flowers.

As he looked down at her, Curtis felt an indescribable sense of unease.

Dalia shivered subtly in his embrace, as if shy, before gently pushing him away, her head bowed slightly in embarrassment.

Having created an appropriate distance between them, she spoke in a voice just loud enough for those nearby to hear.