~Chapter 33~

Larvihan sat in the bathtub, deep in thought.

Lovelace must be holding the refreshments Davison had prepared.

“Teleportation, huh…”

Larvihan muttered and shifted his position. The water sloshed and spilled over the edge of the tub.

When Lovelace had first used magic, he had laughed it off as nothing serious. It was strange enough that she absorbed his power and even used it.

Her flustered face when the magic suddenly appeared had been cute, so he even taught her some magic himself.

But teleportation? That was on a whole different level compared to making a stream of water. Teleportation was something only high-class mages could do.

Folding space and time required precise calculations. A mistake could separate the body, or send one flying to a completely different place. Many mages had disappeared attempting it.

‘Does she have a power I don’t know about?’

“She didn’t even learn teleportation, but she pulled it off…”

He only believed it after confirming her horse and carriage hadn’t come. That’s how unbelievable it was.

“At this rate, it’s too dangerous to leave her alone.”

Larvihan stood up. Water flowed down his body. He carelessly wrapped a towel around his waist and opened the door.

Clang.

The sound of a fork dropping on the floor. Lovelace was in his room. Her face turned bright red.

“P-pervert!”

“This is my room, Rey.”

“Y-you should come out with clothes on!”

Her neck was red too as she shouted. Larvihan found her reaction amusing.

Maybe I should tease her.

He suddenly closed the distance between them. Lovelace reflexively shut her eyes. But the glimpse of his half-naked body burned into her mind and wouldn’t leave.

Broad shoulders, clear muscle lines, a body that was powerful yet refined. She hadn’t realized muscles could look delicate too.

When dressed, he never looked this thick…

Seeing her trembling like a frightened rabbit made Larvihan’s feelings strange.

Who’s pretending to be prey here? She’s the one who devoured me, yet always acts like a rabbit before a lion.

“I’m not going to eat you. Open your eyes. And why are you here, instead of in the parlor?”

He grumbled as he walked into the dressing room.

“I thought you might collapse in the bath. Earlier, when you were sleeping, you looked so pale I wouldn’t have been surprised if you’d died.”

Lovelace muttered softly, barely loud enough to hear—her voice almost drowned by worry.

“Where did you say Count Harmelda is?”

Arwen tilted her head, looking at the revised bill proposal Lovelace had sent.

“At Lord Larvihan’s mansion,” her chamberlain answered.

“Wasn’t she in Harmelda territory this morning?”

“Yes. This morning, she was definitely at her Harmelda estate.”

“How strange.”

It took a full day by horseback, and two by carriage, to travel from Harmelda to the capital.

And yet, she had been at her estate in the morning, but was at Larvihan’s mansion by afternoon?

“Did they build a portal when constructing the Harmelda estate?”

With a portal, such fast travel was possible. Major imperial facilities had them, and nobles like Arwen often used them.

“There was no such instruction, so none was installed.”

The cost was high, and it took a long time to set up. Portals were mostly in critical places like the palace. No one saw the need to put one in Lovelace’s home.

“Then how did she get there?”

Arwen murmured to herself.

“I’d better go see.”

“I’ll prepare the carriage,” the chamberlain said, leaving to ready her outing.

Arwen went back to Lovelace’s proposal.

“A girl full of dreams…”

With that, she set the papers aside.

“Are you feeling better?”

“You ask so late.”

“You look fine.”

“You jump to conclusions before I even answer? No, I’m not fine.”

If he could joke so shamelessly, then he was fine.

Lovelace mumbled as she chewed a small piece of meat. She couldn’t hide her worry for Larvihan, even while grumbling.

A ticklish warmth filled Larvihan’s chest. He didn’t dislike it. That’s why he shamelessly lied with ease.

That was who he was. If he liked something, he did it, whether right or wrong.

“How did you use teleportation magic?”

When Lovelace struggled to cut her meat, Larvihan switched plates and cut it for her.

“Thanks. I don’t know. I was just thinking of you, and suddenly—”

“You thought of me that desperately?”

Lovelace crunched a vegetable.

“Not like that.”

“Sounds like it.”

“I said it’s not!”

The conversation went nowhere. They bickered through their meal.

“Pardon me during your meal, Your Excellency,” Maxmuel said, approaching Larvihan with an uneasy look.

“What is it?”

“Her Majesty has arrived.”

Larvihan’s eyes narrowed.

“There was no word of her coming.”

“Because she never sent word.”

As always, Arwen entered uninvited, without knocking.

Lovelace stood immediately and bent her knees.

“Greetings, Your Majesty.”

“So Count Harmelda is here too,” Arwen said with feigned surprise, though she clearly already knew.

“Oh, that looks delicious. I haven’t eaten yet. You don’t mind if I join you, do you?”

Without waiting for Larvihan’s reply, she pulled out a chair beside Lovelace and sat down.

Larvihan’s face didn’t change, but the air around him turned sharp.

He’s angry.

Lovelace glanced between the two of them and nervously sipped her wine.

“You seem to drink well, Count Lovelace,” Arwen said, dropping the title for a friendly tone.

Lovelace set down her glass, smiling awkwardly.

“Does it bother you if I call your name? I’d like us to be close. The empire’s first female emperor and first female count… don’t you think we’d get along?”

It was confusing, being approached so directly by such a beautiful woman. How did she know Lovelace liked pretty faces?

Still, the elders always said—beware people who show too much friendliness at first. Usually, it meant they were either preachers or con artists.

Of course, could the emperor be either? Probably not. But caution never hurt.

“It’s an honor, Your Majesty. But I prefer getting to know people slowly.”

She carefully hinted: please don’t act overly familiar.

Pfft. Larvihan chuckled.

What? Did I say something wrong?

Lovelace looked at him wide-eyed. Larvihan dropped his smile.

“Cut the act.”

He decided there was no need to be polite to Arwen in front of Lovelace. Since Arwen was showing interest in her, Larvihan wanted to make it clear he disliked her.

“You’re too rough with words. Is that how you plan to win Count Lovelace’s heart?” Arwen teased.

“I already have,” Larvihan replied flatly.

Arwen’s eyes widened. She turned to Lovelace.

“Are you falling for him? Oh dear. If you knew how bad he is with women, you wouldn’t.”

Yes, I know very well.

Lovelace wasn’t shocked. The novel had mentioned many times that Larvihan was surrounded by women. Not that he chased them—people shoved women into his rooms constantly.

Even Arwen’s father, the late emperor, had been one of those people.

Women would try everything to seduce Larvihan, and once in his bed, they always tried to kill him. But they always failed.

The morning after, his sheets were often blood-red—stained with the intruder’s blood.

As for whether he ever actually shared nights with them? The novel never said—maybe because of the age rating, or because the author wasn’t interested in those details. Lovelace remembered being frustrated back then.

Ugh. Even thinking of it again is horrible.

She shuddered at the memory and pushed her wine glass away.

The color of blood alone was enough to make her nauseous.

“I know he’s a bad person,” Lovelace said.

“No.”

Larvihan immediately objected. Whether he meant he wasn’t bad, or that she didn’t know him well enough, was unclear.

“Then we have something in common,” Arwen said. “Both women who know Larvihan is a scoundrel. Seems we share more than one thing, Count.”

Larvihan’s mouth opened, then closed. Provoking Arwen served no purpose. She was one of the few who knew his past in detail.

Larvihan had never regretted his past, but he didn’t want Lovelace to know about it.

“How much do you know about Larvihan?” Arwen asked with a smile.