I stammered, struggling to form my words.
“Th-then… what about privacy between… between husband and wife? Wait, does that mean we’ll be together
all the time
? In this room?!”
Eric gave me a strained look.
“During the day, I’ll obviously be in the study or at the cultivation grounds. There are times I’ll be away from the manor entirely to inspect the territories. As for changing clothes…”
He rubbed his face like a man defeated by fate, clearly wondering why he had to explain this.
He lowered his head slightly and pointed toward a side chamber connected to the bedroom.
“You can change in that dressing room. There's another smaller room attached—use that one as your personal wardrobe.”
“…What a shame.”
Eric lifted his head, eyes narrowing with suspicion.
I smacked my lips and muttered, “I was kind of hoping I could change out here.”
“…Silence.”
“It was a
monologue
. Words meant only for myself, heard only by me.”
Why was he even responding to something I wasn’t addressing to him? I stared at him with that exact expression.
Eric clenched his jaw and sighed deeply.
“As for the rest of our… privacy,” he began, his tone grim, “after this social season ends, I plan to strongly suggest we stay at the Southern Country Manor.”
Then he glanced at my belly with a dubious expression.
“The fact that your stomach isn’t swelling will eventually become a problem.”
Ah… right. That
is
a problem. And not even the only one.
I muttered under my breath, “Should I just go out and actually get pregnant somewhere or something…”
Eric turned serious and looked at me directly.
“There’s something I’ve been thinking about… since yesterday.”
He hesitated. That was rare for him.
“That…”
“That…?”
“…The kiss.”
“What, like ‘Shut your damned mouth’?”
“No, no! Can’t you speak a little more refined?!”
“That
was
refined.”
“…What I mean is—!”
Eric clutched his chest in frustration, drawing in a deep breath like a man steeling himself before a battle.
“That kiss. Ever since then…”
He said it far too solemnly for such a topic.
Why are we bringing
that
up again?! I thought we had both agreed, silently but firmly, to
never speak of it again
!
‘First, if you want a proper kiss, open your mouth.’
Ugh. A dark memory. A humiliating black mark in my history.
Thinking back now—how could I have tried to
teach
him something like that? Me, of all people? I’ve never even
dated
anyone before!
I’ve never kissed anyone—not even held hands with any man besides Philip!
I felt the crushing weight of mortification seize my chest.
Whether Eric knew that or not, he went on, undeterred by my inner torment.
“I mean… of course it has nothing to do with
me
personally…”
“….”
“But it
might
be related… so I have to ask.”
“Just spit it out already!”
I couldn’t take it anymore and flung a cushion at him.
I’m dying of embarrassment here!
Eric flinched, ducking his head as if retreating from a divine lightning bolt.
“…Do you have a lover?”
“…Excuse me?”
He looked at me with furrowed brows, as if the question pained him deeply.
A… lover?
I stared at the side of his face, trying to figure out his
real
intent behind asking something like that.
There was a bed here... and we had become husband and wife...
I frowned, tangled in a branching web of wild fantasies.
Then Eric spoke.
“Like... a delicate, doe-eyed kind of man…”
Delicate, doe-eyed?
That phrase sounded familiar, but before I could recall where I’d heard it, the words slipped out.
“Why? Is that a problem?”
Eric furrowed his brow.
“No, it’s not like that.”
His expression twisted into something unreadable. He glanced down at the floor, then slowly raised his head and asked,
“...So, do you have one?”
No way. Not once in my life...
But I couldn’t say that. Pride within me stirred, and I answered,
“Maybe two or three?”
A brief silence filled the room.
Eric’s sharp, pale features seemed momentarily unsettled by my words, but then he calmed.
His red eyes studied me long and hard, then finally his lips parted.
“That’s a lie.”
“No, it’s not.”
Am I that easy to read when I lie? No, definitely not.
Philip once told me during an argument that I could lie calmly even if I fell into the flames of the Netherworld.
“I’d be a devilish girl even that demon can’t fool!”
...Or so he said.
I thought Eric was just poking at me, so I opened my eyes wide in feigned innocence. Eric waved his hand as if to say “don’t,” and said,
“Now I get it. You give yourself away when you tell the truth.”
“Not when I lie...?”
“I lie every day, so it’s normal. But when you tell the truth, that’s when you’re not normal.”
What a bizarre way of looking at it! So because I lie all the time, lying is ordinary for me, but telling the truth is what’s unusual?
Wow... damn.
Yet, for some reason, Eric seemed more at ease. He leaned back into the sofa at the foot of the bed and said,
“Anyway, I don’t have a lover.”
“Wait, why do you need to know if I have a lover or not...?”
Thinking about it, I didn’t even have to answer honestly! But feeling exposed and stung, I blurted out,
“This is a sham marriage anyway, and nobles always have mistresses and lovers even after they marry! Such depraved people...”
As my thoughts drifted there, I suddenly recalled a memory that already felt like a distant past—Eric standing on the balcony at Margaret Beaufort’s 60th birthday, as if waiting for someone.
Honestly, the meaning of standing on a balcony at a noble’s party is pretty obvious. A flash of insight struck me, and feeling triumphant, I said,
“So, do you have a lover? You do…”
No kiss exchanged?
But if that lover was Princess Ella, there’s no way they didn’t kiss. They must’ve done everything—roasted, boiled, fried—by now.
The stubbornly upright man sat silently, never shifting his posture during our verbal sparring.
After watching him closely for a week, I realized he barely moved at all. Maybe because he’s a cultivator who uses precise movements, or just because of his rigid personality, he often held his neck high and stared intently at his opponent. Especially his tone—
Was it arrogance? Naivety? Or arrogant yet naive? It always sounded sincere, yet somehow irritatingly so.
And sometimes, he’d strike as if completely trusting the opponent’s goodwill, catching me off guard... that strange tone.
How would Eric behave toward the one with whom he must bare his most vulnerable thoughts?
The other party wouldn’t be just any noble—whether man or woman, they would surely be someone like Eric: born into abundance, blessed with comfort, and never having needed to confront either the cruelty of the world or the darkness within themselves.
“Fufufu~ Young Lord, you’re just so kind and gentle~”
Without realizing, I found myself imagining Eric in a secret tryst with some faceless noble, their laughter echoing in my head. I frowned at the thought.
Kind and gentle, my foot. That arrogant young master doesn’t have a shred of gentleness in him…
“Lover…? What lover?” I scoffed. “Don’t tell me you’re actually buying into the rumors going around?”
“What rumors?”
“You know, the nonsense about me and Her Highness the Princess being more than just acquaintances.”
Eric spoke with a face full of disgust, as if even uttering such words tainted his mouth. But the moment the word
princess
left his lips, the woman in my imagination transformed. Her speech turned impossibly crude and flippant.
In my mind, she reclined languidly on
our
bed, lazily glancing between Eric and me.
“You two wanna join me?”
Ugh. Dammit.
Can we really let someone like her rule a country?!
“So you're really… involved with Her Highness?” I asked.
When I’d imagined Eric tangled with that hypothetical noble before, my chest had filled with irrational fire. But now, thinking of him entangled with Ella, it wasn’t fire that flared within me—it was dread. Genuine, clawing dread.
He’ll be used… She’s going to swallow him whole, you idiot! Don’t eat that, Evi!
Fortunately, Eric replied like it was the dumbest thing he’d ever heard.
“She was simply the one I served during my days in the Order. That’s all. I don’t have a lover. And…”
Eric fixed his crimson gaze on me, calm and unwavering.
“…Until this marriage has reached its conclusion, I have no intention of taking one. A marriage is a sacred vow.”
His voice tightened—almost as though he was angry.
“Do you not remember what was written in the marital pact? That we would remain faithful to one another.”
“It also said we should love each other. Do you love me?”
I raised an eyebrow and pointed to my chin in challenge.
Eric stared at me, momentarily speechless, clearly caught off guard.
Only after several long seconds did he manage to recover.
“…You talk too much.”
“You
always
say that,” I replied with a huff and glanced around the room.
No matter how spacious this chamber was, the fact remained—we’d be living here together now, day and night.
“It's all part of the Duke’s scheme, isn’t it? He’s trying to test us…”
Just as I muttered those words, a voice called from beyond the chamber door.
“Young Master, Young Madam. The Duke requests your presence for dinner.”
✵
✵
✵
Dinner with the Duke felt like taking part in some absurd play.
He acted as if he were a doting father who loved his son dearly—though not without a certain edge of hostility toward me, as if weighing my worth. I, for my part, did my best to play the part of a woman madly in love with Eric, as though fate itself had bound us.
“And when exactly did you begin harboring such affection for my son…?”
“From the very moment we first met, I felt it was fate.”
Although the Duke’s acting was commendable, my own performance was so remarkable that the servants attending the meal kept clearing their throats awkwardly.
At one point, I even overheard them whispering among themselves outside the dining hall. Nina was among them.
“Sure, the household’s been a bit chaotic, but did you see how Lord Eric kept his eyes only on Lady Emelin throughout the meal? I think I’m halfway smitten already.”
Half smitten? Wait, Eric was really staring at me that much?
My acting skills must have improved a lot... It felt like they suddenly leveled up starting yesterday.
Anyway, the other servants wore confused expressions.
“But still, Lady Emelin’s background is…”
Background? What background! Isn’t that the same servant who accidentally spilled tea on me...?
At that moment, another servant spoke up.
“The butler seems very pleased, doesn’t he?”
“Yes. Especially since there were rumors that Lord Eric preferred men...”
Oh my. So those rumors were true.
Only then did I understand why the butler was so eager about this marriage.
The servants seemed divided into two camps: one, led by Nina and the butler, wanting to keep an eye on Emelin and Eric; the other, contemptuously focused on Emelin’s lineage and the family’s honor.
And Lily—
She belonged to neither side.
When I returned to the dining hall and resumed my unabashed conversation—
“I will do everything to make your son happy.”
“He’s somewhat rigid, but I will educate him well...”
“We will live a harmonious life together...”
“The best man I’ve met in my 22 years...”
She sat in a shadowed corner, staring blankly out the window with a face that said she wanted to throw up.
Eric, unable to assist my performance but unwilling to cause harm, shyly lowered his head and hid his expression.
Despite this, I kept the conversation flowing. The Duke’s expression remained oddly inscrutable at my answers, but I could guess what that mysterious look meant.
‘What on earth is that woman thinking now?’ he must have been wondering, unable to reveal anything on his face.
The Duke didn’t know how far our goals for this marriage truly aligned.
No wonder—he didn’t realize how much had been uncovered about us.
Did he know I supported Prince Robert? That we conspired with Robert in treason? Or worse...
That I’m a monster?
Every time his expression grew strange, I was chillingly reminded that the man before me was a psycho utterly indifferent to others’ feelings or pain.
A man who could kill if someone stood in the way of his goals.
Could I recognize such a man because I was a monster myself?
As my thoughts lingered there, the meal concluded.
Chapter 50