Skaha was afraid. Afraid of falling in love with him. Afraid of begging for his affection. Because they could not promise a future.

Skaha, trembling, slowly reached out her arm and clung to his neck. As her body pressed close, strength filled his straight eyebrows.

Even while her whole body was shaking, she didn’t want him to notice and hugged him even tighter.

As Skaha cautiously overlapped her lips over the Duke’s, he willingly opened his mouth a little.

She couldn’t perform a deep, devouring kiss that was intense and stimulating, as he did to her.

All Skaha did was tease his neat front teeth and the tip of his tongue by licking.

The Duke, who had been accepting Skaha’s clumsy kisses, pulled her slender waist with a smirk and hugged her.

“Skaha….”

Skaha, who had climbed onto the man’s thighs, thought that losing consciousness would be better than the unbelievable sensation felt under their close bodies.

Unlike Skaha, who was full of fear, he was faithfully following his instincts.

He slowly laid Skaha on the bed and leisurely inserted his hand under her nurse’s dress.

“I’ll help you, so you can tarnish my honor.”

The moment he lifted her skirt up to her waist and tugged down her drawers, Skaha looked at his lustfilled red eyes and finally burst into tears.

“Why are you doing this…. What am I….”

The Duke frowned, sat up, and embraced the weeping Skaha.

Feeling the blatant desire of this massive predator, piled on top of her uncooled body, was so vivid.

Damn it, or was it something worse? She didn’t remember exactly, but he spat out a rough curse.

Then he gently kissed Skaha’s small, upturned nose, her eyelids wet with tears. Despite his rough words, it was a tender kiss.

“Don’t cry. I won’t do it.”

“Sniff… sob….”

“But ending the relationship on your terms is difficult.”

He comforted her by stroking Skaha’s hair until her tears stopped. The Duke softly held her cheek and touched his forehead to hers.

“At least here in Even Baher… you are my woman.”

Her heart dropped heavily. Before Skaha could respond, his hot breath invaded her.

A kiss tender enough to bring tears, a soft, low voice.

Gradually the fear subsided, leaving only the man’s warmth and the sound of night insects on a winter night. The comfort felt in the embrace of a man so large and warm that he could hold her and still have room to spare.

Perfectly, she felt like his wife.

Arriving at the grandest and most magnificent Blahnath Duke’s mansion in the Premium Townhouse complex, Iriel gently stepped out of the carriage.

For Parsad’s dignified ladies, it was an unwritten rule not to use a carriage unless accompanied by a gentleman.

Iriel glanced at the royal carriage already parked in front of the Agnoman Count’s carriage and smiled slightly.

He seemed to have just arrived, as Attila greeted her with a pleased face.

“Iriel.”

“I greet Your Majesty, the Emperor.”

“What brings you to a Duke’s mansion without the master?”

“You say that, yet you’re here as well.”

“You can’t get past one sentence without formality. That’s your charm, though.”

As Attila fluidly flirted, Iriel responded with a refreshing smile.

“You know? You can say that, but I won’t become the Empress.”

As though familiar with this conversation, Attila nonchalantly offered his hand for escort.

“Is that so? Can any other man catch your eye besides Cassard?”

“Don’t you think it’s because Your Majesty won’t accept my conditions?”

“I only promise what I can assure. I’ll try, but no one knows the future, right?”

Every time, knowing full well it was a futile argument, Iriel responded pointedly.

“That’s the difference between the two of you. The Duke is clear about his wife’s issue.”

“This one, Lady Agnoman, your memory is young.”

As Attila jokingly brought up a story, Iriel scoffed, calling it childish.

“You want to talk about the case where the Duke was accused of forcibly taking a common woman in ‘Le Demang’ and wrote a complaint? Bringing up a case that was dismissed without proper evidence or the supposedly victimized woman, are you picking a fight with an old friend?”
“Wow, Irriel. You make me look like a complete villain.”

If one did not know the man called Cassard de Blahnath, perhaps Attila’s mention of the incident might have been suspect.

But how could Irriel, who had been selected as the second prince’s playmate since childhood and frequented the royal court with Cassard, not know him?

A perfect and cold man.

Since he was young, this man called Cassard. An indifferent man who, while watching his dolllike pretty self, never revealed a shred of emotion.

Wasn’t this in stark contrast to Attila, who had already confessed to Irriel several times?

When the future emperor Attila told me that he had feelings for me, I wondered if he was deliberately hiding his feelings, but even when they were alone, he didn’t treat Irriel as a woman.

He treated her no differently from any other noble ladies of the ten families.