Duke, You're a Bit Stiff (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 9
At Artia’s pure admiration, Heidegger didn’t know what to say.
“God must have been unsure what to put in and decided, ‘Screw it, I’ll put everything in’ when creating Father’s body.”
‘If I flatter him like this, he’ll probably tell me all sorts of things.’
In truth, it wasn’t just empty flattery. It was genuine admiration.
As the current Artia and former Kang Ji Ha, who had seen the bodies of all the so-called best people in the world, ordinary good physiques didn’t even catch her eye.
But Heidegger was different.
So very different.
“Just how much training did you do? These aren’t lines that come easily.”
Though some incomprehensible words were mixed in, Heidegger didn’t entirely dislike the continuous shower of praise.
Because in his life, no one had ever praised him like this.
To dare praise that Wellington, that Heidegger.
People couldn’t even meet his eyes properly, let alone speak to him.
Let alone praise him.
Heidegger couldn’t even remember the last time he had received praise.
So, he was simply unfamiliar with how to react in moments like this.
After pondering, Heidegger finally spoke.
“Yeah. So when’s the hand technique?”
“Ah, right!”
The admiration ended there, and now it was time for Artia to show the hand technique she had promised.
Artia squeezed something out from the container she had brought on the tray. A sweet strawberry scent wafted strongly.
It was a special blend of snow strawberries grown in the northern snow and olive oil.
Artia rubbed the generous amount of snow strawberry olive oil between her palms with chap chap sounds, spreading it evenly. Then, toward the neck of Heidegger sitting on the sofa, she extended both hands—
“What are you trying to apply?”
Heidegger asked without turning around.
“A special oil mixed with strawberries, perhaps?”
“Special oil?”
“Yes. I thought showing you directly would be better than explaining with words.”
At that moment.
Oh no! Artia remembered that she was the daughter of House Harad, the sworn enemy of the Wellington family.
‘Heidegger is a very suspicious person. He has no reason to trust me. Even if we’re alone like this.’
Artia withdrew her hands and rubbed the oil on her own arms instead. It was as if proving in front of Heidegger’s eyes that there was no issue.
“The oil is applied to more effectively loosen knotted areas.”
“……?”
“Father, by any chance… has your son never given you a shoulder massage or anything like that?”
Heidegger let out a scoff in disbelief.
“As expected, no.”
“Ha!”
“Then, starting now, it’s the Kang Ji… no, the daughter-in-law’s hand massage course.”
Anyway, it’s a body that’s going to die soon.
I might as well spend the remaining life having fun with people like this. And if possible, learn the training secrets in detail too.
Artia resolved inwardly and sprinkled the snow strawberry olive oil on Heidegger’s neck with chap chap.
“This is the secret you’ve been so curious about, Father. I’ll begin.”
Heidegger sat on the couch, anticipating what Artia would show him.
The oil seemed fine too. Since Artia had applied it to herself and proven it was okay.
Still, Heidegger did not let go of his suspicion.
Because assassins usually strike the moment tension is released.
But for now, he planned to stay still.
Whether Artia suddenly turned and stabbed with a dagger or used a poison needle, for now.
That way, the opponent would reveal their true colors. And right now, Heidegger’s curiosity about the hand technique was greater than anything.
That was when it happened.
Artia’s pure white hands were felt between Heidegger’s shoulders and neck.
“Your neck is really knotted up.”
Along with her relaxed voice, the oil seeped into Heidegger’s skin.
As the moist and sweet strawberry oil absorbed into the skin marked by long years on the battlefield, his body, long exposed to harsh conditions, felt languidly relaxed.
‘Really… a perfect body.’
Just wearing a single top, yet the clothing fit so remarkably well.
Shouldn’t artists around the world take Heidegger as their muse?
If he became a muse, countless masterpieces would be born.
But above all, the real thing was the best.
No matter how much soul artists poured into their works, it couldn’t compare to the living Heidegger in front of her.
‘It feels almost sacrilegious for me to touch this sacred body.’
Artia admired as she firmly pressed and acupressured the knotted areas.
Artia could tell how knotted someone was just by touching their body.
‘Has no one ever loosened it for him before?’
Artia checked his condition by pressing various parts of Heidegger’s body with her fingertips. She could feel the state much more precisely than with her eyes.
‘His bones are a bit misaligned too. The muscles need some work. And…’
Her mind, pursuing perfection, spun quickly.
It looked perfect on the outside, but refining the inside would take quite some time. Probably longer than expected.
She didn’t know how long Heidegger would stay at the duke’s residence, but he dies soon after.
On the battlefield.
His death, which seemed impossible to shatter his title of undefeated in a hundred battles, was truly horrific.
Especially since the author was a pervert or something, Heidegger’s end was described in great detail.
That one scene alone was enough to earn the title of ultimate trainwreck.
Dragged into enemy lines, suffering unspeakable humiliations, then abandoned in an empty field to die—it was a perfect trainwreck story.
Artia shook her head to forget the original story that naturally came to mind.
‘I can’t let this perfect creation die in vain.’
Artia’s white and slender fingers skillfully touched Heidegger’s knotted and stiff areas.
‘What on earth is she trying to show with all this fuss.’
Not even a few minutes had passed since thinking that.
‘S-Stop……’
The words to stop rose to his throat, but Heidegger couldn’t bring himself to say them.
Because his entire body felt so languidly relaxed, as if he had arrived in heaven.
He was even starting to feel sleepy. As if someone had cast a powerful sleep spell.
For someone who boasted stamina that could go days without sleep, it was impossible to feel this drowsy in just a few minutes.
“Father, does it feel refreshing?”
Heidegger wanted to answer, but no words came from his mouth.
It was so refreshing that his speech was blocked.
How could he even describe this feeling.
“Don’t worry and sleep. You must be tired from the long journey.”
Artia even said not to worry and rest well, as if reading his mind.
But Heidegger had never once fallen asleep in front of a stranger in his life.
‘So this was the technique.’
It was a moment when he understood how even a high-level magical beast could be tamed with this secret—enough to tame Cerberus.
On the other hand, it was dangerous.
She was surely seducing him with this strange “daughter-in-law’s hand massage” technique.
He must not sleep.
Falling asleep like this.
If conscious, it might be fine, but sleeping defenseless.
That was no different from handing his body to the enemy……
Though his mind screamed no, Heidegger’s eyelids grew heavier and heavier.
The sweet strawberry scent tickled his nose, and his body melted under the warm yet refreshing touch.
Finally, Heidegger lost consciousness.
Gasp!
Heidegger jolted awake, eyes wide open.
‘W-Where?’
He was comfortably lying on the couch.
Thanks to the warm fire in the fireplace, the room was cozy, and small snowflakes fluttered outside the window.
Heidegger checked his limbs and body to see if he had been assassinated or was still alive. Nothing was wrong.
To confirm again, he even struck his body.
Since he felt pain, he was alive.
“……What the.”
In the empty room, Heidegger put back on the clothes he had taken off one by one.
As if bewitched by something, it was utterly unbelievable.
The fact that he had lost consciousness due to that strange hand technique was incredibly shocking.
‘A dream.’
But in the room, a faint strawberry and olive oil scent still lingered.
As if proving it wasn’t a dream.
He had experienced Artia’s long-curiously secret, yet Heidegger only let out a hollow laugh.
“Heh, really.”
Why didn’t she kill him.
It was a golden opportunity that wouldn’t come twice.
There must be a reason House Harad, like sworn enemies, sent Artia.
Moreover, the imperial family was desperately trying to check the immense power of the Wellington ducal house.
‘If not assassination intent?’
Checking his body again, not a single scratch. No, far from scratches, he felt light as if reborn.
The oddly uncomfortable feeling always around his neck had completely vanished.
There was no pain in his shoulders that ached whenever he lifted his arms.
Even his mind was clear.
‘What on earth happened.’
Heidegger narrowed his brows with a face that couldn’t grasp the intention at all.
Cassus’s office.
Cassus, who had been staring at documents for a while, looked up briefly and called a servant.
“Where is Father right now.”
“Um……”
The servant hesitated and couldn’t continue.
Cassus frowned and asked again.
“What’s going on?”
“The former Duke is… with the madam in the guest room.”
“What?”
Cassus unknowingly dropped the pen he was holding with a thud.
“Why?”
“I don’t know that well either.”
Whenever Heidegger visited the Wellington ducal residence, Cassus didn’t schedule much so his father could rest comfortably.
Respecting each other’s privacy and not interfering. In case hasty interference disrupted deployments.
This was the unspoken rule of the Wellington family.
But.
Heidegger alone with Artia in the guest room?
She was the daughter of House Harad, no less. And Heidegger himself, who arranged this marriage, knew that better.
No matter how he thought about it, the picture was off.
“You’re not mistaken?”
“No mistake.”
“I see……”
What was Heidegger’s intention.
Cassus thought and thought.
If Artia had bad intentions and called Heidegger to harm him, that might make sense.
But who was Heidegger.
A person with terrifying insight that could read thoughts just from expressions.
‘Did he go to find out Artia’s secret for taming Cerberus?’
Cassus recalled his father approaching Artia and Cerberus, clapping and stroking the beast.
Then there was no need to worry much.
Heidegger had survived countless assassination attempts.
No matter how professionally trained Artia was, in front of Heidegger she would be like dust.
Scratch scratch.
Cassus picked up the pen again and began writing documents.
Scratch, the black ink quickly soaked the paper.
One line,
Two lines,
Three lines,
But as the words on the paper increased, his mind grew more complicated.
For some reason, it kept bothering him.
Precisely, not his father Heidegger, but Artia.
The woman who had lived quietly like a dead mouse was starting strange behavior a few days ago.
He couldn’t predict what she would do this time.
‘I should probably go see for myself.’
Cassus pushed aside the petition he was writing against the “Imperial Princess System” to the corner of the desk and stood up.
Turns Out He’s Been Secretly in Love with Me
One-line summary: He acts like he doesn’t like her but is actually playing hard to get.
Synopsis:
Xu Muzhou like her. He has liked her for a very long time, and through repeated schemes, he finally closed the distance with her.
But this is still far from enough.
He wants to be the one who stands out among her many suitors, to fight for her attention, and to make her take the initiative to pursue him.
_____
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