Duke, This Will Sting for a Moment (30 Chapters Left to Complete) - Chapter 8

“Justine! Even that frost dragon would spit you out, you bastard!”

Thinking of Flama, that beautiful yet unlucky face inevitably came to mind.

And so did my pitiful body, dangling from the imperial city walls, turned into a spectacle for passersby gawking through the gates.

Head here, body there.

Out of consideration—or mockery—they’d polished until gleaming the helmet and armor I usually wore.

While a bald-headed vulture perched upon my severed head greedily tore at my stiffened flesh, what charming nonsense were you spewing from that pretty face of yours, Your Majesty Justin, seated comfortably on your gilded throne deep within the imperial palace?

If only I hadn’t been swept up by that sudden green wind, even my wandering spirit would’ve flown straight to your cozy bed and haunted your sleep with nightmares and night terrors all night long.

Unconsciously, I loosened my tightly clenched fists, and the green aura Airy had lent me rippled softly like gentle waves over my small, slender fingers.

Ever since possessing Yuriella’s body, this green aura Airy granted me gathered at the tip of my silver needles and, when breathed into patients’ afflicted areas, produced astonishing healing effects—without exception, ten out of ten times.

Was Frost saved thanks to my acupuncture?

Or did he simply awaken on his own, owing to his monstrous vitality?

“How much longer does Frost have to live? With that impressive body of his, shouldn’t he last at least ten times longer than ordinary people? His muscles were so rock-hard they even deflected my needles. Does the Sacred Sword Ielo have some special muscle-enhancing function? Or has Frost been taking illegal muscle-enhancing drugs? That’d be against the law, you know.”

I’d only meant to extend an olive branch—feeling sorry for Airy, perched alone and pitifully on that icy boulder.

But before I’d even finished speaking, Airy flinched, shivered slightly, and vanished instantly into the wind.

“Hey! You jerk! At least answer before you run off!”

Clearly, she was freezing to death herself and lacked the strength to take me along—so she pretended to be angry and slipped away quietly. What a heartless creature.

As I chattered my teeth, curling my already frozen body even tighter into a ball to keep warmth from leaking out…

“The priests say three months at the shortest. Six months at the longest.”

A voice answered from behind me. Huh? That voice…!

Startled, I whipped around—just in time to see Frost leaping down from his horse.

Ah. So Airy hadn’t run off in a huff after all—he’d sensed Frost’s approach and swiftly fled instead.

“Did you come here to die, or did you just get lost again? It’s impressive you haven’t frozen to death yet.”

Frost frowned, glancing alternately between the icy mountain and my flimsy chiffon dress.

“No, it wasn’t that I ran away…”

“If you didn’t run away, then what? Do you plan to claim you were kidnapped by Airy?”

“Uh… yes…?”

Wait—I just mentioned Airy? How could he possibly know that…?

Ah, right. A Sacred Sword’s wielder can read the aura of other Sacred Swords. So he must’ve followed the traces Airy left behind to find me.

Does that mean he’s also guessed I’ve been borrowing the Sacred Sword’s power for healing?

What should I say to cover this up?

Ah! I’ll say I dozed off while eating a macaron, and when I woke up—I was already here. I was just as shocked!

“If you say you ‘dozed off and woke up here,’ I’ll slit your throat right where you stand.”

Frost summoned his Sacred Sword, Ielo, with a cold, serious glint—definitely not joking.

“W-wait! Hold on just a—”

Backing away slowly on legs stiff as ice blocks…

– Hee-hee-hiing!

The sleek, jet-black stallion recognized me instantly and trotted over ahead of Frost, rearing up and whinnying eagerly.

‘Oh! It’s Mars!’

I tried to use Mars as cover, hiding behind his bulk—but the horse rolled gleefully across the frozen snow, snorting and tossing his head vigorously.

Ah, right. Mars hates me.

More precisely—he became mortal enemies with my own mare, Blanca, and by extension, grew to despise me too.

But why did you two become sworn enemies under the same sky? Weren’t you getting along perfectly fine at first? Did Blanca reject you or something?

Perhaps sensing my thoughts in my gaze, Mars trotted right up and thrust his enormous rump toward me—a clear threat: *I’m in a foul mood, and if you don’t back off, I’ll kick you with my hind legs.*

Confirming my suspicion, Mars’s haunches and hind leg muscles tensed visibly, twitching with coiled tension.

“Mars. Enough.”

At his master’s command, the horse stiffened, then snorted disdainfully in my direction—his contempt unmistakable.

This creature, who used to lower his eyes and tiptoe around me in my past life… Is this your way of challenging me now?

I focused all my remaining energy into my eyes and glared back fiercely.

“You too, My Lady. Stand down.”

The translucent blade of his ice sword caught the sunlight reflecting off the white snow, radiating an even more brilliant glow. The cold bite of his blade’s wind pierced deep into my bones.

“Aren’t there more pressing matters than staring down my horse?”

“How about letting me check where you were pricked?”

I politely stepped closer, reaching to unbutton his shirt—but was immediately stopped.

Frost seized my wrist, yanking me toward him, then lowered his head until we were nearly nose to nose.

“Was stripping me bare your top priority?”

I’d only wanted to check how well his wounds were healing…

“Try to contain your disappointment. I’ll gladly give you plenty of chances to admire this magnificent body of mine.”

His gaze—warm on the surface but icy at its core—looked down at me with arrogant amusement.

“For your information, my Ielo doesn’t have any special muscle-enhancing function that repels needles. And I absolutely do not take illegal muscle-enhancing drugs. This body? It’s entirely natural. And there are still plenty of things you didn’t get to see last night—feel free to look forward to them. Is that answer sufficient?”

With a single finger, Frost tilted my chin upward, locking eyes with me.

“I have zero interest in Your Grace’s magnificent body—I just want to see how your wounds are healing.”

“Oh? Since you woke me up, do you want a reward, My Lady?”

“No, that’s not—”

“Name your wish. Anything. Since you saved my life, even the title of Duchess—so dearly coveted—would be a fitting reward.”

“That sounds more like a punishment. I don’t need a husband who draws his sword at me whenever he pleases.”

“I’ll give you one more chance. Think carefully this time before you speak.”

Though my head was frozen solid, I seized the opportunity Frost offered and thought hard before replying.

“Take me somewhere with a fire. And make sure Mars doesn’t kick me.”

“What?”

“You said you’d give me a reward. I’m starving. Feed me. Beef, if possible.”

“…”

Deep furrows formed on Frost’s brow. What a petty man—he’d just said ‘anything,’ after all.

I quickly scaled down my request.

“Pork!”

“…”

“Duck?”

“…”

Even as I kept offering cheaper alternatives, Frost’s expression only darkened further.

“How about… two chickens? No, just one…?”

What was with that reaction? Was even one chicken too precious for the savior of his life?

“I heard you devoured every last slice of cake my chef made today.”

Oh. So he was upset about the cake? But Your Grace, you hate sweets!

Ah—maybe he was annoyed I disappeared without even saying thank you?

“Thank you, Your Highness! It was so delicious—I’d believe it if told it was made by a former imperial palace head chef!”

I enthusiastically raised my voice an octave to express my gratitude as politely as possible.

“He *is* a former imperial palace head chef. I recruited him last year.”

“Really? Then His Majesty took quite a loss. Your current chef’s nowhere near as skilled.”

Where exactly had I offended him this time? Frost scowled, lowered his eyes, and pressed his lips tightly shut.

The icy mountain air seemed to plunge even further in temperature—surely not just my imagination. A sharp, bluish chill seeped steadily from Frost’s presence.

My frozen body trembled uncontrollably. My head felt foggy, my nose stuffy—I was probably catching a cold. And Yuriella’s constitution was so fragile that once she caught a chill, she’d be bedridden for three or four days…

“Your Grace, let’s head back. Staying out here in this cold will make you ill.”

“Ill? I’m already on borrowed time, My Lady.”

Frost tapped his chest lightly with long fingers, smirking as he let out a faint, mocking sigh. The cold radiating from him grew even sharper.

“Three months at the shortest, six at the longest. If your brain’s this slow, you’d better pay closer attention.”

All traces of that deep, enigmatic warmth in his eyes had vanished—replaced by sharp, prickly hostility, sharper than any desert cactus from the Western Wastes.

Was he always this prickly-tempered?

We’d only ever fought back-to-back against monsters and barbarians—never properly faced each other to talk. So I couldn’t recall.

“Is a single chicken truly more urgent to you than the title of Duchess? What’s wrong with your head?”

Frost scowled deeply, his silver eyebrows furrowed, and let out a derisive snort.

That was it. I’d reached my limit—I was so cold my lips were nearly frozen shut. All I could see was Frost’s fur-lined cloak. It must be so warm… He probably wouldn’t give it to me, though—not when even one chicken was too much to ask.

Perhaps reading the desperate longing in my eyes, Frost exhaled a quiet sigh.

*Flap~*

Before I knew it, I was snugly tucked inside his fur cloak. His body against mine felt wonderfully warm.

“You’re like a block of ice.”

Apparently startled by how cold I was, Frost frowned, then pulled my head fully under the cloak and wrapped it tightly around me. His crisp, cool scent washed over me.

“It’s f-fine—”

Ugh! Frost’s strong arms pulled me firmly against him, preventing any escape from the cloak.

“Just think of me as your fireplace. And I’ll think of you as a snow-hare encrusted in icicles.”

Hesitantly, I wrapped my arms tightly around him. Yes—I was just a snow-hare covered in icicles. And what I was hugging was merely a large fireplace.

“Uuugh…”

A low groan escaped Frost’s stiff lips.

“Oh! Did I press on your wound?”

“No. It’s fine.”

“Your neck’s gone red. Are you running a fever? Let me see the wound—”

“If you touch my wound with those frostbitten hands, I’ll cut them off.”

Frost caught my fidgeting hand, frowned, then removed his glove and placed it on mine.

“Can I touch it once my hands are warm? Can I treat you then?”

“If you try to heal me without a license officially recognized by the Imperial Medical Association, I’ll cut your hands off.”

“But licensed physicians couldn’t save you, Your Grace.”

It wasn’t licensed physicians who saved Frost—it was me. And if I froze to death on this mountain, no one would be able to save him if he slipped into critical condition again.

This was no time for propriety. Like a hatchling burrowing into its mother’s warmth, I clung even tighter to Frost’s broad torso.

“Uuugh…”

Another groan slipped from Frost’s lips, but I pressed even closer. A proper healer’s duty was to warm up first, after all.

‘Ah… he really is a warm fireplace.’

I buried my face deep into his chest, rubbing my chilled cheeks against him, seeking every bit of heat to thaw my frozen limbs.

His urgent voice, calling his steed, rumbled against my ear through his chest.

“Mars! Mars!”

Frost scooped me up swiftly and placed me onto Mars’s back.

The moment we separated, cold wind sliced through the gap. I yelped, quickly adjusting my position and hugging my big, warm fireplace tightly once more.

Bathed in cozy warmth, my eyelids grew heavy, drifting slowly shut.

I’d always seen him only as a dependable comrade-in-arms, someone I could trust with my back on any brutal battlefield. Discovering this unexpected new use for him filled me with quiet delight—and perhaps even a silly, unbidden smile.

*

That night, His Grace the Grand Duke—who’d set out so boldly on the hunt—didn’t return to the manor until long after the bright daylight had yielded to crimson evening hues.

Beneath his eyes, shadowed darkly as if fearing to wake his ‘prey,’ he dismounted with an utterly exhausted expression—as though his soul had fled his body. He carefully adjusted his hold on the woman clinging desperately to him.

His beloved stallion, thrilled to be hunting alongside his master after so long, vented his frustration at not being allowed to gallop freely by lashing out at the grooms with his hind hooves.

But none of that mattered. The carefully retrieved ‘prey’ slept soundly, sprawled blissfully unaware in the late Duchess’s cozy bedroom, until dawn broke the next day.

The Grand Duke’s knights and servants all thought it seemed strangely as if hunter and hunted had switched roles—but wisely kept their thoughts to themselves.

Only after finally prying himself free from his ‘prey’—by stuffing her with a cushion as big as his own torso—did the Grand Duke retire late to bed, yet still tossed and turned for a long while without sleep.

The more he pondered, the stranger it all seemed.

[“His Grace detests sweets—so I suggested balancing it with sour lemon. People often think salt counters sweetness, but he insists sourness neutralizes it best…”]

She’d spoken of his taste as if she’d known it intimately.

[“His Majesty really took a loss—your current chef isn’t nearly as skilled.”]

She’d commented on the imperial palace chef’s cooking as if she’d personally tasted it.

The spirit of Airy, the Sacred Sword hidden for five centuries, had suddenly appeared—only to secretly spirit her away.

And the moment she mounted Mars—she adjusted her posture with the agility of a seasoned knight, as if riding warhorses daily! On Mars—a beast so fearsome even his own captain dared not mount him!

“Annoying.”

Most irritating of all were those vivid, crimson eyes.

Sometimes sparkling playfully like a child’s, other times cold and indifferent as if hardened by endless trials—they infuriated him immensely.