Was it just a few months ago?

Delphius recalled the words that the Duke of Lukehardt had spoken in the study, when he had summoned his sons and they had stood before him.

“I will pass the title to the one who has built a family.”

Three grown men stood in the vast study, making it feel small. And yet the words spoken were almost absurd.

Hadn’t he once said that he would choose based solely on merit, on who had the qualities needed to succeed in the dukedom? Now he was changing his terms.

It was clear enough who would benefit from this new condition. Delphius’s lips curved faintly and silently.

“Titles and power are much the same as building a household. You must gather supporters, make them your own and establish a unique identity. In that sense, family is the perfect example.”

The words carried an air of grandeur, even a certain allure.

If only ninety percent of the ducal finances weren’t already in Delphius’s hand.

It was Delphius who amassed the family’s fortune. He managed the ventures that expanded the family’s coffers. Was that why they could never find a reason to grant Daniel the title?

Beneath it all, Daniel’s father’s scornful gaze shifted towards his son. From the gleam in Daniel’s eyes, it was clear that they had already reached an unspoken agreement. His father’s smug and proud expression rested only on his betrothed son.

It was nothing new. Yet this family’s sheer brazenness never ceased to irritate him.

The wealth and power of House Lukehardt had been built by his own hands long ago. Yet they strutted about on the foundation he alone had laid.

Delphius’s fists clenched—then slowly loosened.

Not yet.

The foundation was named after the Duke of Lukehardt, not himself. It could not be seized through strength alone. Although he was born a negotiator, his influence was strengthened by his family’s reputation.

And that was precisely why it had to be his. Entirely his.

They clung stubbornly to their power, grinding their teeth in an attempt to deny him, but he would claim it.

“…After all I’ve done to claim it.”

Ilenia fit his vision perfectly. The conditions she carried, the way their interests aligned.

Although he did not believe in destiny, when it came to his first meeting with Ilenia, he could only acknowledge it as fate. After all, someone who matched his desires so completely could never be found again in the whole social world.

“Ilenia.”

If he could only become the Duke of Lukehardt, he would build her a gilded cage as strong as steel. One she could never escape.

So that she would forget what life had been before. So that each part of her would be bound to him, shaped to his will. He would clip her wings so she would never think of flying, tie her feet so she would never walk away.

Like the frog he had once trapped in a jar as a child—its lid left open, but the creature too accustomed to confinement to leap again.

So too would Ilenia grow used to life with him.

He wanted her to sink into the comfort he provided, to remain forever playing in the hollow of his hand.

For that, all the more, he needed a child.

Even though he had already seized the sweetest prey before his eyes, he knew better than to relax until the deal was finalized. That was how every negotiation began.

Now, while the Marquis of Calante continued to postpone his daughter’s wedding on the pretext of her poor health, this was his chance.

If Ilenia conceived his child, then the game would already be as good as won.

“Ilenia.”

The hand that had been gently caressing her n*pples had long since moved downwards. The white sleeve of his shirt was soaked through and heavy with water, but Delphius paid it no mind.

“Ah, Delphius…”

Leaning into his arm and feeling her warm breath against his skin, he no longer found the clinging steam around them unpleasant.

But he could not go deep enough like this. Simply stroking and kneading her swollen flesh was not enough to quench his thirst.

“The water’s gone lukewarm, Ilenia.”

It was almost time to end their bath. He murmured this as he slipped his hand under her arm to lift her, but another hand pressed against his, stopping him.

“…What are you doing?”

“M-my… weight. I’ve put on weight.”

It was Ilenia herself who stopped him. She hadn’t flinched a moment ago when he was touching her below, but now suddenly it was about her weight?

“…Do you not want to?”

“N-no! It’s not that!”

Startled, she seized his arm, shaking her head quickly.

“Then?”

“It’s just… I really have put on weight.”

His doubtful eyes swept over her body. Lush, sensual, just as before—nothing had changed.

“The chef here cooks too well. I’ve gained from all the meals.”

But her flustered excuses continued without pause. All the while, she clung tightly to his arm, as though she didn’t want to leave him — whether she realized it or not.

“So until I lose the weight…”

“You should have told me that before I came in, Ilenia.”

Her cheeks flamed at his pointed remark. The memory of giving in to his touch just moments earlier left her even more speechless.

“And don’t think of losing it. You’re perfect as you are.”

“…Truly?”

“Yes. I don’t care for it when someone is thinner than this.”

He despised the feeling of bone against bone, always preferring the softness of flesh when their bodies came together.

Unaware of such indecent thoughts, Ilenia pressed her hands to her cheeks. On the hills of Tilea, she had always been the smallest, the most delicate among the girls. But here, it was different. Surrounded by women slighter still—so fragile they seemed they might break at a touch—it was easy to believe that was the standard of beauty.

In Tilea, broad hips and sturdy frames, fit for childbearing, had been the ideal. Among nobles, the ideal was instead dainty, slender forms. It was why even Ariella’s compliments had never filled her with pure delight. She no longer lived in Tilea.

But the man before her was different. He had found her, though she was unlike the others. Again and again, he reassured her that she was enough.

Even her own parents had shunned her. Yet he—

Ilenia reached for him hesitantly. Her body, heavy from soaking so long in the bath, no longer felt burdensome once her arms clung to him. Water splashed, scattering dark droplets onto the crisp fabric of his still-dry clothes. The sharp lines of his immaculate attire sagged under the damp, but Delphius’s gaze never wavered from her.

As she stepped out of the water, she looked as radiant as a fairy-tale siren. Morning light shone on her wet, golden hair, veiling her just enough to partially hide the red peaks of her chest.

The steam in the bath slowly dissipated, but her head remained dazed and hazy. Her lips parted, moist and trembling—yet no words emerged.

Delphius’s breath was hot and humid, like the lingering vapor itself. His kiss stole into her mouth with the same fervor, robbing her of her breath.

Pressed against hers in urgency, his lips left her faltering, and before she could even step clear of the bath, her legs nearly gave way beneath her.

“Ah!”

The marble floor was slippery enough as it was. With the water still clinging to her, Ilenia failed to find her footing on the rim of the bath and slid straight into Delphius’s arms.

“Well, now…”

Was she doing this on purpose?

Her full br*asts pressed against his shirt and her hips shifted as if she were trying to pull away — an image so sensual that he could not look away.

His gaze burned as he took in the sight of his wife; her figure was more alluring than that of any temptress.

He could hardly deny her unspoken plea. The hand that had circled her waist to steady her slid down, tracing the soft curve before moving lower still.

His fingers lingered briefly over her rounded hips before finally reaching their destination. The moment they touched her, Ilenia’s shoulders trembled.

With each breath she took, the buttons of his shirt brushed against her delicate cheek, leaving faint red marks in their wake. Watching her, Delphius began to remove the heavy, wet fabric one piece at a time.

One by one, his sodden garments fell carelessly to the floor until only his trousers remained.

He reached for his waistband to remove them, but then his gaze fell upon Ilenia’s face, which had moved down to his waist.

“Take them off.”

“…What?”

“You said you wanted to touch me.”

He pulled her hand away from the edge of the bath and placed it firmly on his waist. Startled, her fingers fluttered uncertainly before hesitantly closing around him.

“Go on. Or would you rather wait until the water goes cold?”

The thunder of his heartbeat surged through her fingertips as though each beat was being delivered directly to her hand.