Chapter 3
Prepared to face either bewilderment or displeasure, I met those crimson eyes.
“……”
But they looked dazed, as if encountering ecstasy for the first time.
That expressionless face, like a sculpture carved from ice just moments ago, had vanished.
In its place was a look of excitement, as if he were meeting the lover of his dreams.
An intense gaze.
The kind of expression one would only show in the most intimate of relationships…
‘W-what the…?’
I felt my cheeks flush, as if I had witnessed something I shouldn’t have.
The duke’s large hand, which had unknowingly wrapped completely around mine, radiated a warm heat.
I became conscious of his gaze—one that hadn’t left me, and from a distance that felt much closer than before.
“Your Grace?”
My cautious call only made him grip my hand tighter.
His grip was firm, as if he’d never let go, yet it didn’t cross into painful territory.
The real issue, however, lay in his gaze.
A persistent look, as if clinging to a dream and trying to seduce it.
Burning hot like the heat of a rising flame.
So much so that it felt like I might be drawn in, too.
‘Ah.’
A warm breath escaped my lips before I realized it. And then—
Clink.
The clinking sound of the bottle in my hand, still held tight, jolted me back to reality.
“!”
My startled reaction made me quickly pull my hand back—and at the same time, the duke’s expression cracked, as though shocked.
“……!”
His face stiffened, colder than it had been at any point before.
The aura he gave off in that instant felt like the ferocity of a predator whose prey had just been stolen.
So intense that I instinctively recoiled, sensing I might be devoured.
“Th-this!”
And then, on instinct, I offered up a substitute for myself.
His eyes flicked toward the medicine bottle I had placed down, and then—realizing that he would need me to keep getting that medicine—his gaze returned to me.
Since our hands had parted, the duke’s expression had turned back to an icy mask, colder than ever.
But one thing hadn’t changed—
‘Ugh.’
That gaze, so scorching it was embarrassing.
A desire so intense, it was impossible to misinterpret.
‘There’s no way the duke… suddenly fell for me… right?’
Hmm. If that were the case, he would’ve reacted the moment I first walked in.
‘It must be this sedative, then.’
Even though the bottle barely gave off any aura at all…
‘Is it because his power is so different? His sensitivity to the aura must be off the charts.’
As expected from the duke, said to possess the strongest power in the history of House Ibernum.
Still, I had to calm my startled nerves and cleared my throat before continuing.
“Your Grace. As you just felt… this is the effect of the sedative I created.”
“…Sedative, you say.”
“Yes.”
Though the duke’s voice sounded calm on the surface—
‘The greater the magical power one holds, the stronger the backlash. So it makes sense he’d respond more intensely to something that stabilizes that power…’
That predatory gaze from earlier had not faded.
Despite feeling a bit awkward, I found solace in one thought:
‘Well, at least this strong reaction makes it easier to persuade him of the sedative’s effectiveness.’
Now that he seemed slightly more composed, perhaps because he recognized the substance inside the bottle, I explained the full story—one I figured he’d want to hear.
How someone had sold House Ibernum’s secret, and what the buyer planned to do with it.
＊ ＊ ＊
That day, my second brother, Dullian, seemed suspiciously cheerful.
“Brother? Did something good happen?”
“Pudding.”
He was smiling nonstop. Probably won something in today’s gambling round.
That’s all I assumed—until he said something completely unexpected.
“Oh, something good did happen. Do you have any idea what I won today?”
“No clue.”
“Hehehe.”
…What the heck?
Even under my cold stare, Dullian kept giggling weirdly. Then, sounding excited, he raised his voice:
“That guy claiming to be the Ibernum heir wasn’t just a con artist—he was the real deal! I caught a big fish today!”
“The Ibernum heir…? Isn’t there only the Duke now?”
“Heh. Yeah. Of course, the ‘heir’ part is nonsense. But the guy—some half-breed mongrel—had some useful information.”
Rubbing his hands together greedily, Dullian continued:
“Apparently, he’s a bastard the previous Duke fathered, and somehow, he got wind of the family’s secret.”
“Ibernum’s secret?”
“Yeah! That so-called ‘dragon slayer’ had weaknesses after all!”
Getting carried away, Dullian went on mocking House Ibernum for a while, then turned to me, looking pleased.
“Pudding. You’ll have to do your part now.”
“Me…?”
“Yeah. This is for our family. Of course you’ll help, right? Thanks!”
‘Wow. He didn’t even wait for my answer—just assumed my help was a given?’
By this point, I was already losing affection for this fake family, so I deliberately made a sour face. But my dear second brother didn’t even notice.
No—more accurately, he had no intention of noticing.
As resentment bubbled up inside me, Dullian kept rambling, lost in his own delusions.
“That monster apparently weakens on Dragon’s Night… This is top-tier intel. If I use this to solidify my position in the Second Prince’s faction—no, if you make a drug to exploit it, I’ll take it straight to him and—”
“……”
“Yeah. I want to see that high-and-mighty face writhe in agony in front of me. It’ll be hilarious! Hahaha!”
Dullian burst into loud, gleeful laughter, his eyes gleaming with excitement.
As I stared coldly at my idiot brother, one thought came to mind:
‘Foolish Dullian.’
I could make use of this.
‘I’ll do the exact opposite of what you want.’
Returning from the memory, I concluded my explanation to the Duke.
“…So my brother met this impersonator at the gambling den, learned he actually had a faint connection to the late Duke, and brought him to the estate to dig into the secret.”
Carefully choosing my words, I stole a glance at the Duke’s reaction.
After all, the person who sold Ibernum’s secret was the bastard son of the late Duke—the one the family had cast out.
From the Duke’s perspective, that meant a half-brother had betrayed the family.
‘Is he okay? Did that hurt him…?’
He was a man who’d been through countless battles, both on the field and in politics, but family matters could still sting. I worried a little.
Fortunately—or unfortunately—the Duke simply said:
“I see.”
“Yes…”
Feeling awkward at his simple response, I fiddled with my hands. His gaze settled sharply on my fingertips, clearly displeased, so I quickly changed the subject.
“Um! So, about my proposal—what’s your answer?”
“Proposal?”
“Yes. Would you be willing to consider it positively? Our marriage, I mean…”
“Ah.”
It was an awkward subject change, but it was the core of the matter.
The Duke didn’t grasp it immediately. Only when I repeated the word marriage did his expression shift—like, Oh right, we talked about that.
‘Unbelievable! Do you know how much courage it took for me to say that?’
Even if it’s just a temporary contract marriage, it’s not easy to say those words!
As I grumbled inwardly, the Duke’s expression returned to unreadable, and he spoke:
“Why are you making such a proposal to me?”
Though his face remained cold and unreadable, that serious tone—now familiar—told me he was genuinely considering it.
“I know your weakness is valuable to House Sinkere.”
That’s obvious. Our families were politically opposed.
Or more accurately, our family was desperately trying to get a foot in the door with Ibernum.
“What I want to know is—why are you, personally, going against your family?”
His gaze bore into me, sharp as a blade.
Gulp.
I felt like he could see right through me, and my chest tightened with tension.
I repeated his question: Why go against my family?
A valid question.
‘From the outside, I probably look like the beloved youngest daughter of House Sinkere.’
I realized this was a turning point.
The pressure made my breath quicken.
I consciously calmed myself, then spoke slowly and clearly.
“It’s a fair question.”
“……”
“To outsiders, I must look like the cherished youngest daughter of my family.”
“To outsiders?”
He immediately caught the nuance—and I, thinking of my fake family again, responded with the fury that always rose in me:
“What kind of loving family sends their daughter to marry a widower 40 years older than her? One whose son is closer to her age than she is to the husband?!”
“…What?”
Crunch!
I was so startled by the sound that I forgot my anger.
Under the Duke’s hand, the solid wooden handle had been crushed to dust and was now crumbling to the floor.
