Although it wasn’t an appropriate thought for the moment, Clad Euphris was a beautiful man. In fact, the most beautiful person Yooan had ever seen since her birth. His beauty was more strikingly memorable than when she first saw Louise. Even the half-visible face shone thousands of times brighter than those of normal people.

‘Even such a beautiful man would turn into a demon like my uncle if he knew about my ability.’

But if his desired use was not physical intimacy but just a little respite for a peaceful sleep, then she might not be able to use her power for a while.

At least it would be a pain chosen by herself, and she could control it.

‘I don’t need to do it every day. If you tormented my sister, then you should be punished too.’

Yooan noticed his fingers nervously tapping on the table. Though his hand was engulfed in dark pain, the joints were thick and long, a pleasing shape.

‘I’m not doing this for him. It’s to survive in this house.’

Yooan bit her lip, then immediately let go. She went to the large console and picked up a cleanly polished teapot. There was a faint warmth left in it.

She took out the herbs she had gathered from the garden earlier and brewed them. They were neither dried nor processed, so it was unlikely they’d taste good, but it was all she had at the moment.

The man, who had been slouching with his head down, was now propped on his elbows, gazing at her in a stooped posture.

Yooan proudly brewed the tea and then, holding the teacup, placed it on the table where he had been tapping.

The man looked at her instead of the teacup.

“Drink it.”

“Right, you fed me something yesterday too. I remember that clearly.”

His voice became a bit more distinct as if that memory was certain, asking her as if he was interrogating. Yooan smiled faintly as a courtesy.

Of course, she had given him alcohol.

Not to make him drunk, but a ruse so he wouldn’t notice her ability.

Just like her uncle who used to drop a few drops of ordinary painkillers into a teacup and claim it to be Feliece’s secret potion.

Yooan also wanted to give the illusion that something rough in her hand brought relief, not to reveal her ability.

“Yes, I am from Feliece. I prescribed according to the symptoms.”

“You think you know what this is? You said you’d help me remember yesterday’s events? Does drinking this make memories come back automatically?”

Yooan sat opposite him, silently staring back.

His eyes, filled with distrust, alternated between the steamy tea and her.

It was natural for Clad to doubt the consummation of their marriage. That night, nothing had actually happened, and Yooan had woken up before a deeply sleeping Clad, burdened with piled-up insomnia.

And then the bloodied dagger and Clad’s blood, the desperate trace of fighting the pain. Without a word, Yooan had smeared the blood on a thin blanket and carefully handed it to the knocking butler, Gustaf.

The old-fashioned method was not commonly used in noble houses anymore, but the royal family demanded such proof of consummation.

Usually, the husband would cut his own thigh to bleed and provide proof.

However, whether their situation that night was old-fashioned or modern was none of the butler’s concern.

Seeing Yooan’s disheveled attire and Clad deeply asleep, Gustaf, who had been observing from afar, was probably unaware they would consummate their marriage in such a manner. He just blinked at it, then immediately bowed his head.

“I heard you always drown in pain at night.”

Yooan pushed the teacup closer to Clad.

“But even though it’s gotten dark, you seem quite alright today.”

There was no way to make him remember a non-existent consummation.
Yooan understood what a person who has forgotten what comfortable sleep is due to overwhelming pain would wish for. She knew all too well, having committed such an act fearlessly to this man whom she had no prior interaction with.

The man couldn’t hide the flickering in his eyes. It made sense. A person tormented by terrible pain would readily inflict a knife wound on their own hand if it meant a moment’s respite from agony, a chance for a little comfortable sleep.

Clad’s eyebrows began to contort slightly. Yooan realized it wasn’t out of disgust for her, but a sign that the nightly torment, the same horrific pain she had witnessed the night before, was about to begin.

“Maybe as the pain subsided, hidden desires emerged, and by venting them on me, you found sleep easier?” Yooan chose her words carefully, ignoring the loud beating of her heart.

A person in extreme pain would wish for rest, peace, and deep sleep even if the pain lessened slightly. For the past ten years, Yooan had dreamt of such nights, and in this mansion, she had tasted that tranquility.

Having tasted it once, it was hard to give up. She too was doing this to stay in this mansion and maintain that small peace.

“It’s not poison or any strange medicine. It’s a prescription from Feliece. That’s the use I have.”