Bubble, bubble, bubble.
Foam spurted from the tub like a spa bath.
Was there a place like this here?
Oh my, how refreshing.
The stiffness and soreness in my back from wearing high heels melted away in the warm water.
“Wife, you need to lean your head back if I’m to wash your hair.”
“What? You’re really going to wash my hair?”
“Shouldn’t I fulfill my duty as a husband?”
Droplets clung to his long, arched eyelashes, making him look almost unreal in his beauty.
“You could just pretend and leave, you know.”
Feeling shy about entrusting my head to an unfamiliar man, I offered a small compromise.
“That won’t do.”
“!”
“As your husband, I will fulfill my duty. That is our contract.”
“But…”
“But?”
His eyes narrowed as he stared at me.
Hmm, is he more stubborn than I thought?
If that’s the case…
I leaned my head back against the headrest made for that purpose. The tub even had handrails, making it easy to keep my balance.
“Then let’s begin.”
I quietly closed my eyes. He poured warm water over my head.
Drip, drip.
Swish, swish, swish.
Is he working up the shampoo lather?
For some reason, I was tense.
Wasn’t this the kind of scene you only saw in movies?
At times like this, when you feel shy, distracting yourself with conversation can help.
“So, how did this tradition start?”
“This was once a region where monsters roamed freely. Even on their wedding night, a bride could become a widow. And yet, when someone accepted their spouse as their eternal partner despite that risk, this ritual was performed in gratitude.”
“Ah… But for Your Grace, a prince of the empire, to follow a demonic race’s tradition—uh…”
I couldn’t finish my sentence.
Because his long, gentle fingers had started to massage my scalp.
“Aah!”
Ten firm, rounded fingertips stuck to my scalp like suction cups.
Press, press.
Ahh, this was an impressive skill.
A tingling refreshment spread through my whole body.
“From the sound of it, my massage seems to be to your liking?”
“Well… ah…”
“It’s a fine tradition worth keeping. So I hope you won’t treat the people of this land with prejudice.”
Before I knew it, his long fingertips slid gently toward my crown, pressing firmly into the pressure points.
“Y-yes… mmmh.”
I tried to seal my lips tightly to keep from making strange sounds.
Why was I making noises like this?
I crossed my legs tightly, straining to suppress my voice.
He set his thumbs on my crown, pressing with the other four fingers, then smoothed down the sides of my head. Before long, he supported the back of my head and carefully worked the area from the base of my skull up toward my scalp.
“Wh-where did you… learn… this kind of massage?”
“Learn? You just know after getting it done enough times.”
“Ah… I see.”
I said I understood, but now I was curious—who exactly gave him massages?
A servant? A maid?
If it were a maid… Could he be a womanizer?
But… in the original story, he was just a man who shut himself away in his study, so it was hard to imagine.
Swoosh—
Warm water rinsed away all the soap from my hair.
He carefully washed every corner.
Then there was silence.
Feeling awkward, I tried to lift my head.
“Not yet, wife.”
“What?”
I looked up at him. In one hand, he held a brown bottle, pouring some of its contents into his palm.
“You need oil to keep your hair soft.”
“!”
Wasn’t Gerald von Zeyer a sword master who had slain countless monsters?
“Why that look? As the Grand Duke’s wife, you should look your best, no?”
“Oh…”
Then I leaned my head back again.
His strong hands gathered my hair gently.
Slick, smooth, pat, pat.
He worked the oil deep into my hair, rubbing it between his palms and tapping it in.
A soft rose fragrance filled the bathroom.
His graceful hand movements rivaled those of an upscale hair salon.
Before I knew it, he had wrapped my hair in a warm towel and lifted my head.
“All done.”
Finally, I was free from his hands.
Ah, that felt good.
Then—splash!
Without a word, he stepped into the tub.
The water surged over the edge from his weight.
Startled, I quickly bent my legs and hugged my knees.
What had seemed a spacious tub when I was alone now felt cramped with him inside.
“How was it? The demon race’s tradition?”
“It was nice.”
He asked lightly, so I answered in kind.
He scooped some water into his palm and poured it over his chest, then wiped his face.
Bubble, bubble.
It was awkward beyond words, but thankfully, the foam between us provided some cover.
“Now, shall we start with your arms?”
“That won’t be necessary.”
“?”
“I’ll consider that duty fulfilled.”
“Well, I suppose I shouldn’t insist—don’t want you making another rash decision. No stunts like you pulled in the waiting room earlier.”
He leaned his elbow on the edge of the tub, relaxed.
“!”
So… he’d known?
I instantly sobered.
“It would be pitiful if Theo were to lose even his stepmother.”
“Ah…”
I remembered Theo earlier, nodding off over his fork.
A child who most needed a mother’s touch.
Who never whined among the adults, quietly smiling instead.
Thinking of how he must have finally fallen asleep in his own room, comforted by the Grand Duke’s words, I felt a little ashamed.
These people, who had been fictional characters to me, were living real lives that deserved respect.
For the first time, the life of that five-year-old boy—who had grown up under constant threat—felt real to me.
And then I remembered the look in his eyes earlier, when he’d worried about my injured hand, and my chest grew warm.
“How much does Theo know about his parents’ deaths?”
“Hm… He knows that Mommy Zenia and Daddy Kyle died heroically in battle against the demon realm.”
“I see. And he calls her ‘Mommy Zenia’?”
“Yes. Since Count Kyle was his real father, but he has to call me father, he calls them Daddy Kyle, Mommy Zenia, and Daddy Gerald.”
“Then will the young lord call me Mommy Sinclair?”
“That’s up to him.”
“Oh…”
I resolved right then to earn the title of “mom.”
Was my expression too fired-up?
“No need to go out of your way to win the boy’s heart. Just keeping your promise not to do anything foolish is enough.”
“Anything foolish…”
He must be referring to the scheme orchestrated at Marquis Owen’s estate.
“I’ll block all such things. I’m his one and only mother. I’ll be both shield and sword for him, so that the Grand Duke grows up to be the finest man in the empire.”
Yes, that was necessary.
After all, the fall of the empire meant my own death.
“…”
He looked at me in silence, then turned away.
Had I overdone it?
Well, it was too early for him to fully trust me anyway.
Creak—
The bathroom door opened.
From the dimness came a woman’s voice.
“Your Grace, His Majesty the Emperor and the High Priest are urging you to proceed with the wedding night verification ceremony.”
“Understood.”
Gerald replied briefly.
Only after she left did I notice—there was no one else in the room.
Was that even possible?
Wasn’t this the Grand Duke’s own bath? Even if it was a sacred ritual like the cleansing ceremony, surely there should be attendants.
“No guards, no maids, no servants?”
“…I thought it might be awkward.”
“…!”
Splash!
“Oh my.”
He seemed rather impatient.
He rose quickly, despite the short distance between us.
I instinctively covered my eyes with both hands—
But through my fingers, I couldn’t help glimpsing his back.
The firm muscles, the lifted hips, the powerful hamstrings, even the defined calves.
His physique flowed like a work of art.
Face flushed, I turned away.
Step, step.
He walked off.
Phew…
I leaned back in the tub and gazed out the wide-open window, where the demon realm’s purple full moon shone.
If only I could just sleep like this.
In the now-quiet bathroom, I closed my eyes and breathed in the warm air.
Then—
“Are you not getting up, wife?”
“?”
I looked up at Gerald.
“Aren’t you leaving?”
“I need to finish up. Wouldn’t want you catching a cold.”
He held out a towel to me.
“Ah…”
But I couldn’t just stand up.
Even in a bathrobe, the wet fabric would cling to me.
Did he realize?
He unfurled the towel and turned his head aside.
I carefully stood, took the towel, and wrapped it under my arms.
He offered his hand. I gladly took it, stepping onto the edge of the tub—
But my foot slipped. I lost my balance, squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for a painful fall.
Thud.
Instead, warmth enveloped my shoulders, and a strong arm supported my knees. I peeked open my eyes.
I was cradled securely in his arms.
“Th-thank you.”
“Think nothing of it.”
Still holding me, he started to walk out of the bathroom.
“I’m fine now, you can put me down.”
But his arms didn’t budge.
“Please put me down.”
“No. The floor is slippery from all the shampoo and soap.”
“I won’t fall that easily.”
“Heh. Is that so?”
Oh? Was he underestimating me?
“Put me down.”
“…”
Well then—this kind of treatment wasn’t right.
I had to establish dominance now, before it became a habit.
Whack!
Thud, thud!
The dull sound of impact echoed in the bathroom—because I had butted his chin with my head.
