Chapter 00 …
Prologue
He began striding across the garden, drenched by the heavy rain. Even as he pushed through the dense shrubs as if running, his gaze was fixed on a particular room.
Unusually for her, the interior was fully visible despite her normally drawn curtains. Puzzled, he quickened his pace.
The Vollerban Castle, where the couple stayed, was silent. The old butler was struck with astonishment when he saw Timeo, soaked from head to toe, arrive. Countless droplets fell from his artificially blackened hair. While the butler prepared clothes for him to change into, he remained paused, unaware of the deep puddle forming between his legs. His lady seemed asleep. Impatient, he grabbed the door handle instead of waiting for the butler.
A faint breathing came from somewhere—irregular and delicate. Standing with his back to the door, he waited for his eyes to adjust to the unfamiliar darkness. But before his vision fully acclimated, he naturally found himself staring at the bed—the source of the sound.
The man rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. The blue veins on his once rosary-bound arms were prominent. Suppressing any sound of his presence, he carefully approached the bed. The lady on the bed, apparently unaware of the intruder, shifted slightly in her sleep. The room was dim. He searched for a candle around him. His nose cut through the darkness; his pale blue eyes flickered lowly. The scent of wetness clung to him entirely.
Timeo slowly pulled the blanket away from her. Unable to wake her with a candle, he foolishly held the empty candlestick. Beneath her wavy black hair, the silhouette of her negligee was fully revealed.
First: he would not sleep with her until she owned the theater.
Second: he would not sleep with her, especially to end the Vollerban line.
Third…
Damn it, he couldn’t even recall the third point. What mattered were the first and second. Timeo’s gaze blazed as he clutched the corner of the blanket instead of indulging in lust. After a long absence, he could share nothing with his wife—and she agreed.
And their marriage was a sort of contract for each other.
Water dripped onto Phyllis’s cheek. Timeo, staring silently at her, barely had time to wipe it away before her ash-gray eyes, heavy with sleep, met the shadow looming over her. Aside from the droplets falling from him and the faint sound of him swallowing, time seemed to stand still. It felt like a scene from a myth passed mouth to mouth.
Phyllis felt the droplets landing on her shoulders like hot wax. The warm drops soaked part of her garments. She forgot to breathe, gazing up at her sham husband. Tension was clear on her small face. Even as she shifted slightly, Timeo remained still, as if witnessing something shocking.
Turning away from her, Timeo slowly raised his upper body. He set down the candlestick he had been clutching desperately, removed his rain-soaked coat, and unbuttoned his shirt.
“Maybe it’s because I’ve never had a proper first night… just seeing you asleep makes this difficult.”
“Hah…”
“Want to check for yourself?”
The sound of wet clothing hitting the floor rang out. He brazenly invited the violation of their contract. Shedding the weight of the storm, he was now completely naked. Without lighting a fire, he skillfully moved through the room, searching for dry clothes. Finally, after putting on his pants, he sat on the edge of the bed, shaking water from his hair.
Every time Phyllis realized he was no longer a nine- or eleven-year-old boy but a fully grown man, an unfamiliar sensation washed over her like the drowsiness of midnight. Unlike the uneasy Phyllis, Timeo showed no restraint. Though he had once been a priest—meaning Phyllis would likely have more experience and skill—the man before her approached as if he could devour her whole.
Each time Timeo exhaled, his straight spine lifted slightly. Something indistinguishable between sweat and rainwater trickled down his neck. Despite the thunder outside, the bedroom was quiet and cozy. Huddled as if isolated in a mountain lodge, Phyllis was suddenly addressed by Timeo in a low voice that seemed to pierce the floor.
“I’m thinking of amending this shitty contract.”
“…We’ve already notarized the contract.”
“A contract can just be rewritten.”
Rising, Timeo slowly moved from the edge of the bed to the center. Phyllis, sitting at an angle with her knees drawn up, was pushed aside. Before her eyes could meet his, his face loomed down—taunting, mocking.
“For me… not even feeling you is allowed?”
