The first time she held Delphius’s hand was just before their wedding was to be held.

“Take it.”

“What?”

“Your hand—if you leave it like that, it’s shaking worse than a seventy-year-old man’s legs.”

It was only then that Ilenia realized that her clasped hands were trembling uncontrollably. Even those who had helped her prepare had left by that point. She was supposed to be calmly awaiting her fate in the heavy stillness that remained.

But she wasn’t.

She grasped her wrist as if to steady herself, but the trembling refused to stop. She pressed her pale, chapped lips together, biting them lightly, before letting out a shallow breath.

Through the open doorway, she could see how many people were waiting for Lady Hildebalt to step outside.

A hundred — no, more than that.

Their voices filled the hall in a restless murmur, churning her empty stomach until she felt sick.

She was afraid.

The thought of standing exposed before so many pairs of eyes sent a cold shiver down her spine. In just one night, she realized how useless her lessons had been.

Rank and status meant nothing.

The eyes that would mock her and the whispers that would tear her apart were all the same.

“Do you not want to take it?”

The voice came again.

She looked up and found him looking down at her. His head was tilted slightly, as if he were quietly asking what she was waiting for.

After a brief hesitation, she placed her hand on top of his.

He gripped her hand more tightly immediately.

Her eyes widened at his unexpected strength, and her lips parted in silent surprise. She had always thought that helping with the harvest had toughened her hands, but compared to his, they felt small and fragile.

A gasp nearly escaped her lips, but she caught it just in time, swallowing the sound down. Startled, she looked up at him, a quiet protest rising to her lips.

“Better now.”

“…What?”

“Your hands. They’ve stopped shaking.”

It was true. The trembling that had refused to fade suddenly stopped, as though it had never been there, simply from the warmth of his touch.

Delphius sat beside her with careless ease. His perfectly tailored clothes had fallen slightly out of place, but he seemed not to notice.

With his other hand, he gently covered the back of hers, slowly dispelling the chill clinging to her skin with his warmth.

His touch was so light that it almost felt trivial. Yet this was the same man who had always seemed so distant, now reaching out to hold her hand.

Back in the days at Tilea Hill, she would have lowered her head, overwhelmed by the weight of it — by him.

Perhaps nothing had truly changed.

Even now, she could not bring herself to look at him, turning her face away instead.

“There’s no need to worry so much.”

His mellow voice came softly at her ear.

“When you don’t know what to do, just look at me. I’ll always be right in front of you.”

“…Always?”

“Yes. Always.”

When she finally found the courage to lift her head, she was greeted by his smile.

For once, his hair was swept back neatly, framing the gentle curve of his lips as they lifted. They were as pure and unblemished as the white formalwear he wore.

He had never been wrong.

Whenever she lost her way, he was always there first, waiting for her. When she faltered, overcome by exhaustion, he stood ahead of her, quietly shielding her from it all.

But when did this quiet heaviness in her heart begin whenever she looked at his broad back?

Along with it came a different kind of longing — one that ached more deeply than she could ignore.

With him in front of her, she knew she was safe. But she didn’t want to be someone who was simply protected.

She wanted to stand beside him, shoulder to shoulder, and walk the same path together.

That growing desire quickened her steps.

‘If I could just walk a little faster, I might be able to reach out and take his hand first. If I could grab his shoulder and turn him around, then perhaps I could finally stand beside him.’

So she tried, desperately.

‘How could a gaze so cold burn this hot?’

Ilenia brushed past those who hastily bowed in shock at the sight of them together. Her face was flushed, not from their stares, but from the pain pulsing through her wrist.

Her hand, still caught in Delphius’s grip, had long since gone red from his hold. Yet the ache in her chest was worse than the pain in her wrist — the memory of his gaze and the harsh furrow of his brow.

Dragged helplessly onward, she fixed her eyes on his broad back.

‘Would he stop? Would he turn to me, say he was only startled, that it had been too sudden’?

She looked, endlessly, hoping.

But not once—until they reached the very top floor, his private office—did Delphius turn back.

Bang!

The door slammed shut behind them, rattling in its frame. Only then did he release her wrist.

Yet his broad back still heaved, restless, as if restraining the fury boiling within. He braced a hand on the desk, exhaling a long, harsh breath.

For the first time, that dependable back looked threatening.

“…Delphius…”

“Why are you here?”

The razor-sharp voice stole the words from her throat.

“Answer me, Ilenia.”

The chill in his question pierced straight through her chest, squeezing her lungs with every passing moment.

‘No. Answer him, Ilenia.’

She bit down on her lips, slowly lifting her head. His face, revealed in full, was still nothing but cold.

“…I came because I wanted to deliver the documents to you myself.”

“Hah… And where were the servants?”

“I told them I would bring it myself.”

“I told you to remain safe at home. I never once said you should busy yourself with useless errands like this.”

With a rough hand, Delphius shoved his hair back from his forehead.

“No. My question was wrong. Who dared allow the Duchess of Lukhardt to be burdened with such petty chores? Where was Madam Meg?”

“Is it so wrong? I only wanted an excuse to see you. That’s why I stopped the servant from going, and I came instead.”

She could not understand. Surely there was nothing wrong with delivering a set of papers. It was hardly menial labor. She had not come to scrub floors or wash laundry. She had only brought the documents her husband had forgotten.

“I truly don’t see why I should be scolded for this—”

“That manner of yours.”

He cut her off, pointing sharply.

“Whose work is that?”

“…What? What do you mean?”

“Who taught you?”

His gaze, sharp as a blade, dragged slowly from her head downward.

And Ilenia recognized it. That look. The merciless scrutiny of Count Hildebalt, weighing her as if she were nothing more than a commodity, judging her worth.

“You were far less presentable than this before. Weren’t you?”

She had suspected as much, but his cutting tone still flushed her face with shame.

“…Y-yes. Compared to you, I was plain… like a country girl with no sense of grace.”

The drift of the conversation grew harder to follow. Everything felt tiring and unbearably sad. She swallowed back the rising sting in her eyes and squared her chin.

“So I learned. Because I wanted, more than anything, to be someone who suits your side… so I learned.”

“Hah… of course you did.”

Delphius squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. A flurry of thoughts—indescribable and swift—crossed his face.

“…Who taught you—no, there’s no need to ask. Had someone been hired inside the house, I would have heard of it immediately.”

His low voice muttered the words as only his burning gaze pinned her in place.

“Lady Hildebalt trained me.”

“Ah. I see.”

So that was it. He sounded almost bitter as he mocked: she had been sneered at simply for learning such things. My wife is obsessively concerned with such petty manners, he seemed to say.

Ilenia’s eyes trembled with shock.

“I told you many times that you were enough as you were.”

All of the effort she had put in over the past month disintegrated. Everything she had struggled for—only for his praise—crumbled into nothing. No words came. All she felt was the choking, terrible sensation of worthlessness piling like filth in her throat.

“Hah… enough. She could not have done this alone; there must be an accomplice in the house.”

“What do you mean by that…?”

“I’ll have them dismissed at once.”

“Delphius!”

She clutched at the hem of his coat in a panic.

“Why must you go so far? I don’t understand. These were necessary—if I’m to stand before others, and for the sake of Lukhardt going forward—”

“I’ve told you time and again—there’s no need to care about those people’s opinions. They’re not worth such pointless effort.”

“…Pointless?”

He let out a sigh, irritation sharp in his voice, as he gazed at her tear-brimmed face.

“My wife still refuses to understand me. If that’s the case, then continuing this conversation is meaningless.”

“…Delphius.”

“If anyone enabled this nonsense, it must have been Lady Meg. Her reports have been lacking these past few days.”

The thought that he might immediately order someone to cast Lady Meg out of the estate jolted her back to her senses. She shook her head in a panic.

“Lady Meg is blameless. It was all me—my own decision. If punishment must be given, let it fall on me.”

“Ilenia.”

The hand that had once been tender weighed upon her shoulder like lead.

“This is not something that can be overlooked. A servant who hides matters from her master? That is not merely wrong—it is utterly intolerable.”