At Cedric's pure and unfiltered words, his jaw slackened in disbelief. Iris, startled, hurried toward him.
“Are, are you alright?”
She thought she'd heard a sound of impact just moments before.
Unaware of the faint flush on Cedric’s face, Iris looked up at him with concern.
“There,” she pointed.
Sure enough, a red mark had blossomed across his forehead. Cedric, slightly embarrassed, raised a hand to cover it. Iris gently intertwined her fingers over his hand.
“Does it hurt?”
“……”
Cedric looked at her face—anxious and unsure. He hesitated for a breath, then furrowed his brow.
“…It hurts.”
“Wait, I’ll call for Vincent—”
She made to rise in haste, but her sleeve was caught.
Cedric had grasped it.
With a light tug, she was drawn downward and ended up seated beside his feet, as though pulled by an invisible force.
“My lady, in the Leontheim region, there’s a remedy passed down among the common folk.”
“Yes?”
“They say… if someone you cherish places a kiss on the wound, it heals more swiftly.”
As he spoke, Cedric lifted his gaze. His voice was calm, his eyes deep and unwavering—a look that could easily stir the heart of any maiden.
Yet the one on the receiving end of that gaze wore a peculiar expression.
“…That’s supposed to be a breath, not a kiss.”
Ah. She’d seen right through him.
Truly, his wife was far too sharp. But even that sharpness was one of the many reasons he’d fallen hopelessly for her.
‘Where could she have heard that?’
That when a beloved breathes softly over a wound, it heals faster.
‘Heard it, did she?’
Someone had spoken to Iris about love. Cedric’s gaze dimmed, a heavy thought settling in.
“Wife… did someone say something to you—?”
But the question never left his lips.
For Iris, eyes gently closed, leaned in and placed her lips upon his wound.
Iris trembled for a long while, unable to move, before finally lifting her face.
“…Still. I just didn’t want you to be hurt.”
If one touched her flushed cheek, it would surely be warm—she was blushing that deeply.
Cedric, who had been gazing at her with the eyes of someone who couldn't help but love her every move, reached out and took her hand.
“…Thank you.”
His touch was so gentle, it could be easily refused if she so wished. Yet it was endlessly sincere.
“For protecting Leonteim. And… for protecting me.”
Then, with knightly reverence, Cedric pressed his lips softly to the back of her hand.
Iris’s nose tingled, her eyes threatening tears.
Cedric always spoke plainly. No unnecessary embellishment, no complicated emotion—only raw truth.
To Iris, who had chased illusions and hollow words her whole life, his pure sincerity struck deep.
She couldn’t help but fall in love with him.
“Someone… had to do it.”
It should have been you, Cedric.
This tribulation was the unjust karmic burden the protagonist was meant to shoulder.
“I just… wanted to take on that burden in your place.”
If only you could suffer a little less, grieve a little less.
Holding back her tears, she looked up at him.
Her eyes rained with sorrow, but shone with a sky-bright light.
“And it was you, my lord, who offered the better path. So truly… I’m the one who’s grateful.”
Though Iris always kept her heart behind high spiritual walls, in moments like this, she gently lowered them—offering up her affection, folded neatly like a prayer.
And every time Cedric glimpsed that lonely space beyond her barrier, it tore at his soul.
He knew: that small, fleeting expression of affection was all she had to give.
“You’re truly beautiful, my lady.”
Cough!
Startled by his sudden words, Iris broke into a fit of coughing despite drinking nothing.
“Th-That’s not why I said that! I just really wanted to thank you…”
“Is that so? Then we share the same heart.”
You’re beautiful.
So beautiful I had to say it.
“I meant it,” Cedric said, lifting one shoulder with casual ease, then squinting one eye as if he had a thought.
“…Though now I feel my words may seem unconvincing without reason.”
Unfortunately, his intuition had led him astray again.
What is he planning to say now…?
Iris instinctively tried to cover his mouth, but seated as she was, she couldn’t reach in time.
“I’ve never seen a color like yours before,” he said, reaching out to lightly grasp her hair. “It’s completely unlike my black—it draws the eye, radiant and unyielding.”
Against her pale skin, her strange reddish-violet hair shimmered like a mystic herb under moonlight.
“No matter where I go, I feel like I could find you instantly. Isn’t that wonderful?”
He smiled easily as he spoke such shameless things.
Unable to endure it, Iris lowered her head, hiding her face behind her knees.
Most couples—ordinary ones—would feel flustered or delighted from such words.
But not Iris.
She felt fear.
Such beautiful words didn’t belong to someone like her.
She wasn’t worthy of them.
In her long—or perhaps short—life, no one had ever called her lovely.
The only words ever placed before her were colored by hatred:
"Defective, the only failure."
"The reason the Countess died."
"A dullard, useless trash."
Cedric’s language clashed against the weight of all those years of scorn—and then simply erased it.
Why does he say these things?
Iris knew Cedric had loved her deeply in their past life.
Maybe this life too.
Because he was… a good man.
But the Iris from that life—she had never had the courage.
"Prove your worth. How did someone like you end up as my daughter?"
"Everything falls apart when you're involved! Can’t you just stay quiet for once?"
"Did you really kill Mom? Lily misses her so much… Why did you do it, sis?"
"They say the Countess went mad because of your hair."
If what her family said was true, then she would ruin Cedric’s story too.
His cultivation path, his fate—it would all be marred by her.
I… I’m not—
Not the kind of beautiful person he thinks I am.
Unable to raise her head, Iris spoke quietly, hesitantly.
“My lord… you’re a good man.”
“…Am I?” Cedric’s eyes narrowed softly.
Had Vincent been present, he might have burst into tears, shouting
"My lady, you’ve been tricked into a scam marriage!"
But Vincent was not here.
And since Iris clearly liked him, Cedric had no desire to correct her.
“I’m sure you’ve considered me deeply. After all, House Valentine and Leonteim… they’re so different. Thank you for thinking of me.”
But it’s not just “consideration”…
Each morning, the first thought that crossed Cedric’s mind was Iris. Just as natural as breathing or walking for others, for him, it was seeking her presence. Yet, as always, he said nothing aloud.
He could speak whenever he wished.
But—
“She cannot.”
He understood. Iris weighed her words with great care, her every utterance forged through countless cycles of thought and hesitation.
Her words were laced with courage.
The hand resting on her lap curled into a soft fist, as if hiding something fragile—
A sliver of sincerity.
“But truly… it’s all right to be honest with me.”
Iris smiled gently as she spoke.
“When people think of the Valentine Clan, they think of Lilliana. I’m aware of that. I also know I’m not a particularly stunning beauty.”
Cedric’s expression began to fade. Iris couldn’t bring herself to meet his sincere gaze—perhaps because she didn’t feel worthy of it.
She hid her truth behind the safety of practiced lines.
“When they think of the Valentine bloodline, they think of crimson hair. But mine’s a pale violet.”
She’d long suspected why her father, Kaidrich, had gone to such lengths to keep her hidden away.
Her hair—an awkward shade between gold and red—was a blemish on the Valentine name.
It was the kind of trait that would cause whispers of her mother’s unfaithfulness.
And regrettably, she resembled neither of her parents.
“I know. I know all of it.”
“Then why… why does it hurt so much this time?”
She’d never felt this overwhelmed by emotion when recalling this past. But now—this time—
Why did being branded a disgrace feel so crushing?
Struggling to remain composed, she looked up at Cedric.
“So if you’re just comforting me out of duty… because I might become your Consort, I’ll underst—”
Her words were cut off.
Her face was buried in Cedric’s chest.
He had stepped forward and pulled her into an embrace without a word.
Tears threatened to spill. And if they did, they’d leave a mark on his robe.
Iris loathed leaving any trace of her pain behind. It would serve only as proof—evidence for the critics.
“P-please… let me go.”
But as she tried to raise her head, Cedric held her gently still, smoothing her hair with one hand.
“My words… I haven’t finished.”
He didn’t argue. He didn’t refute what she said.
Instead, he simply continued what he had started.
“I’m not very good with compliments,” he admitted. “I’ve never had reason to practice. But I’m trying.”
She couldn’t believe it. It sounded too natural for someone unfamiliar with the act.
“I like the way your footsteps quieten in the morning so the retainers won’t wake.”
“The way you hold your teacup just to savor the fragrance… it’s beautiful.”
“And sometimes, when you fall asleep with a blanket over your shoulders from exhaustion… I saw that, even though you told me not to look.”
“W-what?”
“How could I not? That was far too precious to ignore.”
Flustered, Iris began to beat his chest softly with her fists, but Cedric welcomed every strike with a calm stillness.
Instead, he embraced her tighter.
“You are beautiful, even when you cry. But I would rather never see you cry at all.”
Slowly, her fists loosened. Her reddened palms, tense from the effort, opened and fell away.
Cedric gently took one of them, raising it upward, guiding it as their eyes met.
Tears shimmered in Iris’s eyes as Cedric spoke softly.
“I know the kinds of people who said those things. I know how your life might have been shackled to theirs.”
He understood all too well how wretched blood ties could become.
Even when the truth of his parents’ murder was plain to see, no one dared question it—because it had been family.
“I didn’t want to be the first one to say such things to you… but now I know I am.”
Of course, had another man said them, Cedric would’ve had to
deal with that
separately.
But that would wait.
Right now, all that mattered was wiping the tears from his wife’s face.
Then—
Without even a shaky breath, Iris whispered through her tears:
“Every time you speak, I see my father… my brother… my sister in my mind.”
Each of them pointed accusing fingers at the pathetic Iris in her memories.
She could flee from one version of them, but in the next moment, another would emerge to scorn her.
“You should be grateful it’s us tolerating you.”
“Do you really think you could survive outside of Valentine blood?”
There were too many such wounds, carved into her soul. Too many names. Too many voices.
She had tried to erase them herself—only to be left with scars.
So she gave up on healing altogether.
At least, until now.
“Then let’s make a pact.”
Someone had appeared.
Someone willing to rewrite the fate etched onto Iris’s soul.
Cedric brushed away a tear with his thumb.
“Each time I say I love you… one of those voices will vanish.”
Iris shook her head faintly.
“It’s not possible. There are too many.”
“I love you, my lady.”
“And some of what they said… it wasn’t all untrue.”
“I love you.”
“This is just a fool’s errand…”
“Iris, I love you.”
One by one, the chains of her past life were breaking within her.
Cedric, having whispered sweetly for some time, only released Iris once her tears had dried.
“If I say everything at once, it won’t sound sincere. I’ll save the rest for tomorrow.”
His ruby-like eyes, once gleaming with passion, dimmed slightly as he added quietly,
“Besides… it’s almost time.”
Time? Time for who to arrive?
Knock, knock.
Just then, someone rapped on the door. Iris turned quickly, wiping away the remnants of her tears.
“Enter.”
At Cedric’s permission, Vincent stepped in. Unlike his usual weary demeanor, his face carried a rare lightness.
“My lord. I’ve come to collect the payment.”
“Payment?”
Iris, having barely composed herself, asked the question. Vincent nodded gently.
“It’s been a while since this old man could afford even a thin broth, and since I followed your orders today, I expect you’ll uphold your end.”
“You’re my subordinate. Even if I told you to powder your face instead of fill your belly, you’d still have to obey.”
“You know I didn’t mean it that way.”
Though a flicker of menace passed through him, Vincent calmed himself with a faint chuckle.
“It’s time you properly introduced our lady to the knight order.”
The Order of Leontheim. Iris recalled them.
In her previous life, she had intentionally avoided them. She hadn’t even seen their faces, and in the official records, they were nothing but nameless side characters.
‘So this is the first time I’ve truly encountered them.’
Even so, calling it a proper meeting was a stretch.
She had only glimpsed a few members, and any opinion she had was relayed through Cedric. She had never spoken to them directly.
Even in this life, there had been no formal meeting, and she had started to wonder if such a thing was even necessary.
“So… I was supposed to be introduced.”
Of course—how absurd for the Grand Consort of Leontheim to never be introduced to the very foundation that protected the domain.
‘Then why hadn’t he introduced me yet?’
Iris glanced carefully at Cedric’s profile, his lips tightly sealed.
“…Was it because you didn’t trust me?”
“No.”
His answer came quicker than she expected.
Cedric looked from Iris to Vincent, then let out a long sigh, covering half his face with a hand.
His lips, which had poured out such passionate words earlier, now moved just slightly.
“…I simply didn’t want other men looking at my wife.”
Iris blinked in confusion and asked,
“What?”
From a distance, Vincent looked at Cedric as if he were watching a reckless child.
“Ah—really.”
Embarrassed, Cedric ruffled his hair roughly and stood up.
In front of Iris, he seemed to say the most unexpected things.
“What a fool.”
Vincent scolded him, and Cedric half-heartedly replied, “Alright, alright,” before turning around.
Curious about the knights, Iris suddenly looked up in surprise.
That moment struck Cedric’s heart again, and he took a breath before quietly saying,
“If my lady wishes.”
Though he left it unsaid, Iris immediately understood what he meant.
A smile blossomed naturally on her lips from the joy swelling inside.
“May I… meet them?”
Vincent couldn’t help but admire her.
He already knew the lady was quite beautiful.
But her calm, serene aura made her seem like someone barely clinging to life.
And her beauty had long been hidden beneath her desperation.
“Truly.”
He found it hard to look away.
As Vincent’s eyes were filled with admiration, something suddenly obscured his vision—very forcefully.
“That’s enough.”
Cedric’s hand.
“Master! My eyes will pop out!”
“Even better. Get out of here now and go wash those eyes.”
What might have been a romantic moment in a play came off as comedic between them.
Well, not to Vincent.
“W-where do you think I’m going? To guide the lady to the knights—!”
“Silence. Get out immediately.”
“Ahh—someone’s going to die here!”
Vincent cried out pitifully as he was pushed outside.
After locking the door behind him, Cedric leaned against it, covering his mouth with his sleeve.
Iris, not understanding what was happening, rose from her seat and approached him.
“My lord?”
Each step closer, Cedric coughed sporadically.
“Cedric?”
Iris brushed Cedric’s unruly black hair away and placed a hand on his forehead.
His face was flushed.
“Lately, his face reddens often.”
Could it be that the sudden cold had weakened him?
Yes, that must be it.
Iris thought she should instruct Master Chef Chris to prepare more warming dishes for him.
Cedric opened one arm wide toward her.
“My lady.”
“Yes. You’re not feeling well, are you?”
“May I hold you?”
Iris hesitated for a moment, then leaned into his embrace, her face flushed though not as deeply as his.
“You already have.”
There were probably still tear stains on her cheeks.
As Iris fumbled with her hands suspended in the air, Cedric drew her closer.
His clumsy hands, which had only hovered around her waist, finally encircled her back.
“This is a kind of ritual… that helps me work harder.”
“Then will I also be able to work better?”
“If you get any better than that, I don’t think you’ll be human anymore…”
They laughed softly, trading light-hearted jokes.
Like a truly ordinary couple.
In this brief moment, Iris decided to forget the burdens of her destiny she would have to face later.
She chose to live fully in this present moment.
“My lord, what kind of people are the Leontheim Knights?”
Cedric hummed and lightly rested his chin on Iris’s head.
“I feel strangely addicted to this.”
Listening to Cedric was like hearing his voice right beside her ear.
The sound of his laughter, the beat of his heart—closest and most intimate.
“They are…”
He uttered just one word before falling into deep thought again.
“The finest knights on this continent, at least.”
“I see.”
“Though, to be honest, they don’t like me very much.”
Iris felt a pang of loneliness at his last words.
Why? He seemed to care deeply for them.
Unlike Iris, lost in an inexplicable feeling, Cedric’s thoughts were simple.
“Maybe I should just run away.”
His wife was so light in his arms that he could easily leap out the window holding her tightly.
After debating whether to do it dozens of times, he finally released Iris from his embrace.
“I must go.”
There was only one reason.
“She’d definitely hate it.”
His wife despised those who resorted to tricks and deceit.
He pressed a light kiss on Iris’s forehead and left.