‘Choya, is it…?’

Justin leaned his elbows on the railing of the grand banquet hall’s terrace, blankly staring at the moon hanging in the night sky, feeling a strange sense of loss.

The bizarre feeling of having something precious taken away, something he had never possessed, was so absurd that the emperor scoffed at himself.

“Were you here, Your Majesty?”

Aaron came with a glass of wine and offered it to the emperor. Justin silently downed the drink in one gulp.

“I heard the Crown Princess followed a wandering quack doctor troupe, performing lowly dances and selling cheap medicines. Who knows if that’s all she sold?”

Aaron glanced sideways, observing the emperor’s reaction.

On the first day of arriving at the duke’s residence, Aaron had clearly heard the emperor’s rash words to his prospective cousin-in-law.

Throughout the entire ceremony today, he had witnessed with his own eyes how the emperor couldn’t take his gaze off that woman with the enchanting red eyes.

That passion. That look in his eyes.

It was all too familiar to Aaron.

The same things that always appeared on His Majesty’s beautiful face whenever he looked at the former commander Solas.

Why did he have the same expression while looking at the duke’s bride?

Instead of resting his weary body and getting some sleep, why was he aimlessly staring at the moon with such a distant and sorrowful gaze?

As if he would crumble at any moment. As if his body was burning with impatience.

With a face that seemed to longingly yearn not for the pale moon, but for the bride in another man’s bedchamber.

“I heard the priestesses are observing the choya. But who would believe the legitimacy of an heir after that? If she’s already been sown with another man’s seed−. Ugh!”

Aaron, kicked by the emperor’s strong boot, tumbled to the floor.

“Don’t defile my ears with your filthy words.”

Justin, who had coldly glanced at Aaron, leaned his back against the railing and turned his gaze through the glass window. His eyes were searching for someone.

Inside the banquet hall, guests were dancing to lively music and toasting, waiting for the bride and groom to return after completing the choya.

His blue eyes, having lost interest, turned away and settled on the distant sky.

‘You are there, but why am I…?’

Why do I feel this way, Solas?

Justin unconsciously raised his hand, rubbing his chest, and frowned.

Recalling the red-eyed Crown Princess, his heart ached as if scratched by iron chains. Why on earth…?

When he saw the duke’s blue cravat around the butler’s neck, he had scoffed.

Thinking she was a vulgar woman who couldn’t cherish precious things, his heart had felt lighter.

He had admonished himself for trying to find traces of Solas in such a woman. He had immediately erased from his memory the nonsensical words he had uttered about accompanying her to the imperial palace.

He had sneered at his cousin for being captivated by such a woman.

However, the moment the duke lifted the bride’s wedding veil…

When those clear and transparent red eyes shyly looked at the man standing before her and gently closed…

Justin had nearly rushed out to strangle the duke’s neck.

Throughout the wedding, his heart had been screaming as if something precious of his was being stolen away.

Even now, like this…

He was standing among the guests waiting for the bride and groom, who had gone to consummate their marriage, like a fool, staring at the door and feeling anxious.

His mind was whipping him to go to his room quickly. No, to return to the imperial palace.

But his feet wouldn’t budge, as if thick roots were deeply embedded. What kind of sight was he hoping to see?

Not knowing what he was waiting for, he waited.

He was waiting, even while mocking himself for putting such a foolish end to his northern journey.

*

Knock, knock, knock.

“Your Highness. May I come in?”

The voice of an elderly priestess inquired from outside the bedchamber.

Yuriella’s slender fingers trembled as she brewed tea at the tea table.

Frost, who was sitting on the bed with his long legs folded and resting on his elbows, tilted his head slightly and gazed at Yuriella.

Although they had agreed to give a larger donation than Duke Grande and only pretend to observe the choya, Frost hadn’t informed Yuriella of this fact yet.

Her appearance of proclaiming certain victory while being extremely nervous was so cute that he wanted to leisurely enjoy the sight a little longer before telling her.

Yuriella quietly put down the tea cup she had filled to the brim and stood up.

“Before the tea gets cold, I will chase them out of the bedchamber.”

Her red eyes, filled with determination and even gravity, sparkled like stars.

“This is a battle of who will be more embarrassed. It’s a fight we can win.”

Although the priestesses were all veterans with over fifty years of experience, the choya observation had long become a dead custom, so this kind of embarrassing observation would be a first for them.

On the other hand, she boasted of having a resilient heart that had seen all sorts of things, having grown up as a street child in Solas’ life.

She had also heard the rough and naughty tales of men’s experiences while wandering the battlefield, to the point where her ears had become numb.

So Yuriella was confident she would surely win this battle.

Frost repeated the words Yuriella had uttered with a complexly intertwined expression.

“Battle. Fight.”

Were those the words a bride should say on her wedding night?

Yuriella leaped onto the bed and sat in front of Frost, kneeling.

A sweet bodily fragrance wafted over.

The momentum of the woman wearing clothes as translucent as dragonfly wings and exuding a dizzying scent was overwhelming. As was the sweet smile lingering in those red eyes.

“Just trust me and follow my lead. If it’s difficult, you can just stay still. I’ll take care of everything.”

If it were a battlefield, it would be a magnificent spirit to entrust one’s back to.

But Frost thought this cute woman was more threatening than a demon.

It was a primal warrior’s instinct that it would be better to quickly bring in the priestesses who had already been bribed.

“Come in.”

The bedchamber door opened, and seven priestesses in white clerical robes entered.

The cool air of a refreshing summer night blew in with them.

Frost was relieved, feeling like his mind was clearing a bit.

The solemn-faced priestesses blushed upon seeing the bride in a see-through nightgown and the groom with a sturdy body not concealed even by a silk robe.

“Let us first offer a prayer of blessing.”

The high priestess, who had exchanged a secretive glance with Frost, led the blessing prayer, and the priestesses on either side followed suit.

As the high priestess raised her hands with palms facing upward, a sacred blue curtain descended from the high ceiling, reaching the floor.

Beyond the curtain, a short prayer ended, and silence fell.

Yuriella, tense like a racehorse waiting for the starting signal, glanced at the curtain through which nothing could be seen.

“When do we start?”

“Anytime.”

The priestesses had already left the bedchamber through a secret passage connected to it, as promised, right after completing the blessing prayer.

“Don’t be nervous. I’ll take care of everything.”

Seeing her rubbing her sweaty palms on the thin nightgown hem while telling him not to be nervous, Frost barely suppressed a laugh that threatened to escape.

However, when she pushed his shoulders to lay him down on the bed, he could no longer afford a relaxed laugh.

“Your Grace!”

Yuriella’s slender hands grabbed the front of the duke’s robe, trying to take it off.

“…!”

Frost instinctively grabbed Yuriella’s hands, defending himself.

The startled Yuriella blinked her eyes vigorously, sending a signal.

‘Your Grace. The enemy is over there. What do we do if you defend against my attack? Let go of these hands.’

He should tell her that he had already defeated the enemy, and there was no one beyond the curtain.

But his mouth froze at the small hands persistently trying to undress him.

And…

When Yuriella took out a portable silver needle pouch hidden under the bed sheet and shook it in front of him, his mouth fell open.

The secret weapon Yuriella had arranged for a realistic performance was acupuncture treatment.

As Yuriella untied the string of the silver needle pouch and unfolded it, shimmering silver needles of various sizes, from large to small, were revealed.

Picking up a large needle that looked incredibly painful, Yuriella shouted loudly toward the curtain.

“Oh my. There’s a sculpture molded by the gods here! Yuriella must have saved the country in her previous life, Darling Your Highness!”

Yuriella diligently imitated Shavell.

“Yuriella will make Your Grace happy. It might sting a little. Yuriella tends to bite when excited.”

In the midst of the absurdity, finding her incredibly lovable, Frost loosened his grip and allowed her to freely open the front of his robe.

Yuriella untied the bandage covering the duke’s wound from the demonic poison and took out a silver needle, approaching Frost.

As a deep green energy formed at the tip of the needle, Yuriella smiled beautifully with satisfaction.

Quickly confirming the acupuncture points, Yuriella began precisely inserting the needles in the correct locations.

Each time a needle was inserted, Frost clenched his teeth and suppressed the groans that threatened to burst out, swallowing them back into his throat.

Even if it was a choya in name only, it was still a choya.

He had never harbored any fantasies about the wedding night. And today wasn’t even a real choya. Still…

At least for today, he didn’t want to show his new bride the pathetic sight of him screaming in pain while receiving acupuncture.

Whether he had become a fool who forgot how to breathe upon seeing the bride when he lifted her wedding veil.

Whether he had been disappointed throughout the ceremony that her gaze was wandering elsewhere, only to be surprised to realize he couldn’t take his eyes off her for a single moment.

Whether he had been discouraged by the bride’s diligence in hiding a silver needle pouch under the bed sheet strewn with rose petals.

It didn’t change anything.

He was merely a husband in name to her, and she was just a patient he needed to treat.

That was the extent of their meaning to each other.

And that was the condition he had proposed for this marriage, the clear boundary he had drawn between them with his own hand.

Yet, the reason he hadn’t told her that the priestess observation was a mere formality and they had long left the bedchamber…

The reason he had enjoyed seeing her flustered and nervous… was probably…

“Your Grace. You can make sounds. No, you should…”

Yuriella whispered in Frost’s ear.

The sweet breath seemed to make his ear twitch, and the fine hairs stood up.

“How long will the priestesses endure like that?”

Yuriella wrinkled her freckled nose bridge, glaring beyond the curtain, then turned her gaze to Frost.

The clear and transparent red eyes poured into his eyes.

‘That’s right. I probably… wanted this to be a real choya.’

Yuriella sighed softly and leaned closer to him.

“Your Grace. The enemy is stronger than I thought. I think we need to raise the level of attack.”

Glancing at the needles, not even half inserted, Yuriella frowned.

“I underestimated it. I thought it would be enough to insert them as usual… I’ll try stabbing deeper and wider.”

She must think he’s not making sounds because it doesn’t hurt. It already hurts enough.

Is she oblivious? Or does she not care?

“That’s not a very good ide−. Argh!”

As Frost let out a scream-like groan, Yuriella beamed.

“This level of intensity should do it! Just a moment. I’ll pull these out and move on to the next stage.”

Yuriella began swiftly removing the needles and putting them back in the pouch.

Frost sat up, thinking he should confess the truth now, but Yuriella’s hand immediately pushed him back down.

“Yuriella. Actually, there’s something I haven’t told you−.”

“Shh!”

Yuriella covered his mouth with her hand and leaned in close, almost touching him.

Furrowing her eyebrows and giving him a look, she enveloped his body with her slender arms and legs as if restraining him.

Lush, rosy blonde hair cascaded over Frost like a waterfall.

Taking a deep breath, Yuriella slightly moistened her lips and fumbled with the silver needle pouch, reaching for a large needle with her fingers.

Yuriella, with her lips tightly pursed and her cheeks flushed, filled Frost’s blue eyes.

The dazzlingly bright red eyes approached closely.

“Frost.”

The voice calling his name sweetly enveloped his ears.

Cupping Frost’s feverish face, Yuriella stopped at a distance of a sheet of paper.

“One more time…”

“Yes…?”

“My name.”

“Frost.”

And swoosh.

Yuriella’s vision flipped.

Frost’s dry and rough lips softly descended upon the lips of Yuriella, who was looking up with puzzled eyes.

The chilly and blue eyes, as if filled with water from Lake Elysian, were so dazzling that Yuriella closed her eyes.

‘It’s strange. I feel like I’m floating.’

Huh? Yuriella’s eyes widened.

No, not just a feeling, she had actually floated up!

Yuriella blankly looked down at Yuriella, who had fainted and collapsed while floating in the air.

And the translucent red hair softly flowing over her shoulders came into view. On the translucent forearms, long scars were visible, and the calluses and knobby fingers characteristic of those who wielded swords were seen.

It was her original appearance, all too familiar to her.

The appearance she thought she would only see again after death…

…Why?

Before she could continue her thoughts, Yuriella lost consciousness.