After finishing his shower and changing clothes, Yezar recalled his earlier words and blushed.

‘Why did I say such a thing to the lady?’

He had only meant to understand her feelings and offer comfort. Yet, seeing Julietta’s sorrowful expression as she dwelled on hypotheticals, the words slipped out before he realized.

Perhaps it was because, in that imagined scenario, his own existence clearly had no place.

‘Is this jealousy? But to be jealous over my absence in a situation that doesn’t even exist?’

He couldn’t remember when he had become such a petty man. Certainly, he hadn’t been like this with Bertisha.

When he saw her smiling at Camileo, his heart ached, yes—but he understood. Instinctively, he knew there was no space for him between the two of them, who belonged together as if fated.

It was strange. After being instantly drawn to Bertisha as if by fate, he had quietly watched and supported her love with Camileo. Accepting his role, following along obediently—it had never been difficult.

It was painful, but he had never felt jealousy, nor acted out of character. He had always remained by her side as a kind, gentle man who cared for her.

But meeting Julietta stirred unfamiliar emotions in him. He found himself doing things he never would have done before. He had investigated which noble family she belonged to. He had fled like a coward, terrified she might be disappointed if he told her.

Yet, her face kept returning to his mind—chattering away as she repeatedly raised her wine glass. Then, upon hearing she was seeking a husband, instead of silently watching from afar, he had approached her first and proposed a contract marriage.

Everything about it was unlike his usual self. He would never have investigated a woman he met at a tavern—it would have been improper.

Whether she would be disappointed or not, he would have confessed the truth plainly and calmly accepted her reaction.

Rather than proposing a contract marriage while his feelings were still unresolved, he would have quietly helped her find a good match from behind the scenes.

‘Why am I like this?’

Such thoughts kept surfacing whenever he saw Julietta. Now, seeing himself even succumbing to ugly jealousy, it was worse than ever.

But had he acted as he normally would, it was obvious he would never have grown this close to Julietta. He didn’t regret it.

His married life with her had been more joyful, thrilling, comforting, and occasionally bewilderingly happy than he had ever imagined.

He found Julietta adorable when she called his name with a bright smile.

‘Yezar!’

Her red hair fluttering in the wind, her eyes sparkling like dewy blades of grass, her face filled with laughter—it was impossible to look away.

So, for the first time in his life, he felt a greedy desire. He wished that, just as he smiled whenever he saw her, she would smile too.

He wished that when their hands touched or their bodies brushed close, she would feel the same warmth in her cheeks and the same parched thirst in her throat.

Even though to her, he was still only a contractual husband. Even if they grew closer, once the term ended, Julietta would leave his side without hesitation.

‘If I begged her not to go, what would the lady think of me…?’

His train of thought was cut off by Count Wyden.

“Duke Ferhaem, where are you headed?”

Count Wyden laughed heartily and casually slung an arm over Yezar’s shoulder.

“I was on my way to where my wife is.”

“No wonder you’re newlyweds! Seeing how well you two get along makes me think I should treat my wife better too.”

For a brief moment, Yezar recalled Count Wyden’s wife striking him on the back. It was an improper thought, so he dismissed it quickly.

“No, I’m the one who should treat my wife better.”

Then, as if sharing a secret, Count Wyden whispered to him.

“In that case, how about gifting her a sword suited to her? From what I saw, she doesn’t even seem to have a proper one to carry around.”

He had considered it before. Julietta would swing her wooden practice sword so fiercely that within an hour, both the wooden dummy and the sword itself would be shattered. Spare parts ran out quickly, and training equipment had to be reordered frequently.

If she trained with a sword made for her, even if the wooden dummy was still doomed, at least the practice swords wouldn’t need constant replacement. Truthfully, beyond that, seeing Julietta’s joyful expression whenever she held a sword made him want to gift her one that truly suited her.

“Yes. I was thinking of preparing it as a return gift for the gloves she gave me. These gloves were a gift from my wife, after all.”

Since receiving them from Julietta, Yezar had worn the gloves every day. Soon, the knights began teasing him, pretending not to know.

‘Who gifted you those gloves? Since you wear them daily, it must be someone dear to you. Am I right?’

‘Isn’t there a sweet scent coming from somewhere? Just being near the lord gives off a pinkish aura—ah! It’s too dazzling! I’m going blind!’

Clearly, they had pooled money for the prank, so as punishment, he made them spar with him personally. Watching them collapse, too exhausted to speak, brought him deep satisfaction.

“Well, you’ve seen the duchess wield a sword yourself. I forgot that there’s no way you wouldn’t have thought of gifting her one. Seems I’ve unnecessarily meddled.”

“No, I’m grateful. Thank you for sparring with my wife today. Of course, some of Julietta’s precious hair was cut, but I’ll forgive you.”

Feeling a killing intent from Yezar, Count Wyden broke into a cold sweat.

“Your Grace, are you really smiling?”

“Yes. Probably.”

Yezar’s lips smiled, but his eyes did not. In that moment, Count Wyden was reminded once again how fiercely the Duke of Ferhaem cherished his wife.

“But I didn’t stop her either, so it’s partly my fault. There’s no reason to hold you responsible.”

“Then why didn’t you stop her?”

“Because I couldn’t.”

To Count Wyden’s question, Yezar could only reply that he had no choice. The truth was, he had been worried when he heard she wanted to spar with Count Wyden using real blades. He had wanted to stop her, but seeing Julietta’s serious gaze, he couldn’t bring himself to.

He knew how much she loved the sword, how deeply she immersed herself in it.

“Julietta has talent and passion for swordsmanship. She probably wanted to experience firsthand the beautiful arc of your swordplay, Lord Wyden. How could I, by what right, stop such sincere pursuit of martial skill?”

Watching Julietta move in harmony with Count Wyden, Yezar marveled anew. She was growing. Absorbing his teachings, she now wielded the sword in her own unique way.

Even as he worried she might get hurt, he found himself mesmerized by her skill.

“Still, I’m grateful you stopped her at the end. Once we return to the ducal residence, I’ll teach my wife that such methods aren’t advisable.”

Count Wyden shook his head at Yezar’s gratitude.

“No, everything else was flawless. I was genuinely impressed by the duchess’s persistent gaze and movements. There was something captivating about her swordsmanship.”

Count Wyden smiled contentedly, as if recalling the sparring match.

“It’s still unrefined, but with proper polishing, it will shine like a gem. Ah, I meant to tell you something, but the conversation drifted elsewhere.”

“What did you wish to tell me?”

“This is an apology for accidentally cutting the duchess’s hair. The sword once used by Countess Orbetian may still be circulating in the market.”

Countess Orbetian—clearly, he meant Julietta’s mother, who had passed away when Julietta was young. That her sword was still out there.

“Why isn’t the sword used by my wife’s mother kept within the Orbetian household?”

“Isn’t it obvious? Keeping mementos and removing them entirely from sight aren’t so different. It’s out of longing for the one gone.”

He knew Count Orbetian was famously devoted to his late wife. But he hadn’t known the count, tormented by grief, had cast aside even her belongings.

“That’s probably why the duchess seems so dismissive of her own talent. Count Orbetian likely couldn’t bear seeing his daughter, who resembles his wife, holding a sword. She must have trained in secret. Suddenly, her words about never once receiving praise make sense.”

Like pieces of a puzzle clicking into place, Yezar began to understand the attitude of the Orbetian knights, who had never praised Julietta’s skill despite seeing her wield a sword.

He had assumed it was because Julietta wouldn’t inherit the family line, so they saw no point in acknowledging her talent.

“But they couldn’t properly praise her. What if she then decided to train seriously and become a knight?”

If so, the outcome was clear. Her dream would be blocked by Count Orbetian’s opposition. He had never imagined such complicated circumstances.

“I hesitated to meddle, but since you, Your Grace, would want to give that sword to your wife, I decided to speak up.”

“Thank you for telling me…”

‘…What would it have been like if Mother had lived? Would I have learned swordsmanship normally, loved freely, and become a knight?’

Probably. If so, she would have inherited her mother’s sword and wielded it more brilliantly than anyone.

Julietta had called such thoughts meaningless, but Yezar wanted to fulfill at least part of that imagined life.

It was also his repentance for his petty jealousy.