Episode 9

“Ugh… Why are you… so persistent today?”

Yvonne found herself saying it without thinking—because today, Yurian was relentless.

She felt like she might pass out, but clung desperately to consciousness until he was finished.

Despite the overwhelming pleasure, his relentless pace pushed her past her limits.
Her body felt heavy and soaked with exhaustion, as if she’d melt if she let go even slightly.
Even in winter, her body was covered in a sultry, summer-like humidity—pleasure clinging to her like tropical heat.

She struggled to endure the sheer force of his movements with her bare body, but at the same time, that overwhelming pressure came with a sinful kind of delight—and she welcomed it.

“Yvon. I love you so much.”

“I know.”

She could feel his fingers intertwined with hers, pressing her hands down.
His large hands were spread as if trying to pry her fingers open, locking her in place.

As she flinched from the waves of pleasure, Yurian mistook it for resistance and pushed into her even harder.

“Yurian, p-please… just calm down, a bit… huh…”

“I can’t.”

He said it like a vow—as if he truly meant to drive her to collapse.

“Why…?”

“Because I love you, Yvon.”

Yvonne couldn’t understand why he was so frantic—even after she had told him to propose already.

“Did you… peek earlier?”

At that, his movements came to a sudden halt.
The creaking of the bed stopped with him.

“Ah.”

Yvonne looked as if she had realized something. But Yurian didn’t let her think for long.

He suddenly pushed into her again—hard and fast.

“Ah…! W-wait…!”

“No.”

And just like that, he drove her mind to blankness, overwhelming her thoughts completely.

“Ah!”

The world turned white before her eyes.

“Ah…”

And then—she passed out.

As she fell unconscious, Yurian exhaled a deep breath and left a mark—one more claim on her body.

“Yvon…”

Looking down at her back, already full of his marks, he leaned in and bit her neck.
Seeing the rows of his teeth marks already there, he finally let out a sigh of relief.

He wrapped his arms tightly around her unconscious body.

Then, gently lifting her waist, he waited…
As if hoping his desire would settle in the most sacred part of her.

“I hope our first child is a daughter too. One who looks just like you, Yvon.”

With those words, he held her in his arms again—ready to wash her carefully, as he always did.

* * *

“You should delay the bonding vow for as long as possible.”

Yvonne was well aware that Marquess Rohan had chosen that exact moment—while she was having tea with Yurian in the imperial palace garden—to bring it up on purpose.

She had canceled her morning meeting and was enjoying a peaceful breakfast with Yurian.
In truth, it was less “peaceful” and more a matter of her being too drained to move after Yurian’s particularly aggressive behavior the night before.

“What do you mean by that, Kes?”

“I’d like to explain in detail… may I sit down first?”

“How about you just leave?”

“Yurian.”

Yurian’s sharp reply earned him a look from Yvonne, her tone reminding him to behave.
Though he felt wronged, he let out a sigh and turned to look at her.

Her amused expression made her set down her teacup with a laugh.
Yurian thought the ripple in the tea looked just like her eyes—so beautiful.

Then suddenly, she pushed his arm aside and sat down right on his thigh.

“Sit there, Kes.”

She gestured to the seat she had just vacated.

Marquess Rohan had intended to make Yurian uncomfortable enough to leave so he could sit next to her.
If he said it was important, it was likely she’d ask Duke Leonhardt to step away.

But his plan completely backfired.

“Oh my, your leg’s hard as stone. This is actually really uncomfortable.”

“For it to get softer, I’d have to put on weight. But I gain muscle easily, not fat.”

Marquess Rohan knew this was her way of mocking his artificially knight-like physique, and he replied while sitting down.

“Everyone’s body works differently. Some people have muscles for brains, for example.”

“Weak, spineless men are useless—even if they’re clever.”

Yvonne wondered why they were at it again, but still found it amusing to watch Yurian bristle with hostility, forgetting even her presence.
She pinched his lips like a duck’s beak, and just like that, his expression softened.

She laughed, watching the way his eyes turned gentle again.

“Did you forget? We agreed to use only kind and proper words.”

“Ah, yes. That’s right.”

Yvonne knew Yurian tended to get rough when other men were around, which is why they had made a little promise—he would speak properly at all times, just like he did with her.

“I was just worried, since there’s a saying that weak men are useless in bed too.”

“Is that so?”

“Not that it matters! I’m not weak anymore, anyway!”

Marquess Rohan was usually good at maintaining his composure—but not around Yvonne.

Seeing her so affectionate with Yurian unraveled him again.

“I hate Duke Leonhardt more than anyone in the world.”

He said it plainly, then stood and stormed off.

“Ah…”

Yvonne blinked, remembering they had actually been in the middle of an important conversation.

“Why are the two of you always like this?”

“That’s what I’d like to know. Lord Rohan is truly childish.”

Yvonne looked at Yurian and couldn’t help but laugh.

“Are you okay with giving Kes a dukedom?”

Though the decision had already been made, she asked, remembering that Yurian hadn’t said much about it at the time.

“He earned it. He helped protect you. That’s enough.”

Yurian hadn’t forgotten how Marquess Rohan had thrown everything into helping when Yvonne planned to confront Hildebrandt.

But allies today could become enemies tomorrow.
Once a shared goal is achieved, it’s only natural that those who pursued it might turn on each other.

And both Yurian and Marquess Rohan had the same final goal: Yvonne.

Rohan acted this way precisely because Yurian had yet to propose—because they had yet to make their relationship official.

Yurian was still just the Duke of Leonhardt—not the royal consort.

If he had proposed and secured the position, Rohan wouldn’t have been able to make himself such a nuisance.
After all, once the consort’s seat is filled, only a concubine’s post would remain.

Not that Marquess Rohan would reject that either.

“If you don’t want it, we can drag it out and not give it to him at all.
If I say no, Kes will accept it in the end.”

Yvonne found Yurian adorable when he acted like this.
And she loved the depth of feeling in his gaze—it was so certain, so undeniable.

“Even if Marquess Rohan becomes a Grand Duke, it doesn’t matter. I have nothing to fear.”

“Oh? Really?”

“Yes.”

Yurian said it confidently, but when he saw the teasing smile on her face, he suddenly felt nervous.

He pressed his ear to her chest and pulled her into a tight embrace.

Yvonne found his anxiety charming.
She hugged his head tightly in return, wanting him to feel secure.

His ear tickled her chest, and though it made her giggle, she also felt a little prickle—leftover from the marks he had left there the night before.

* * *

“Perhaps it really is best to delay the bonding vow.”

Yvonne had been wondering about Hildebrandt’s condition, so she summoned Francis.
He was still the captain of the royal guard—but now, he served exclusively as Hildebrandt’s escort.

They were in Yvonne’s office.

“Why?”

“From what I understand, what Your Majesty desires is a child. Is that correct?”

“That’s right.”

Her indifferent response stirred something bittersweet in Francis.
Yet, the fact that he could have a private audience with the emperor without any tension made him smile.

“It’s generally accepted that forming a bonding vow makes conception difficult.”

“Is there evidence?”

“There was a record of case studies. Back when guides were more common.”

“So, it’s true then.”

“Yes, unfortunately.”

Yvonne sighed at Francis’s words and nodded slowly.

“Sir Francis.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

She found herself admiring the blue in his eyes.
Unlike Hildebrandt’s glacial sky-blue, Francis’s eyes were a deep blue—like the night sky.

“So… are you loyal to me now, Sir Francis?”

She was careful not to let her ability influence him.
She had a habit of using her power unconsciously, after all.

At that, Francis opened his lips, hesitated, and then replied:

“Yes.”

Francis didn’t believe he was under the influence of her power.
But every time he looked into her eyes, he was reminded that the one he now served… was no longer Hildebrandt—but her.

“And why is that?”

She asked the question with a trace of suspicion, but Francis only smiled.

“Are you curious?”