Chapter 29

 

“You think now’s the time for jokes like that?”

“Is there any other way to joke but lightly?”

“Your Grace!”

The same exchange as always.

Only this time, the woman had become part of the conversation.

Jayden’s scolding glare held its usual affection.
By now, one might expect him to give up—but the old man was persistent.

“You do something kind and then ruin it with pointless words.”

Pointless?

She said she wanted to satisfy me. I told her to go ahead.

“That Langston’s been dealt with. It’s you I’m worried about. There, happy?”

Jayden’s dramatics as he reinterpreted Kallain’s mood into a stage play were something to behold.

“If I think of all the pain you must’ve been carrying, it breaks my heart.”

“…”

“But you won’t have to suffer like that anymore. Why can’t you just say that?”

Kallain stared silently at Jayden, who even raised his monocle to examine him more closely.

“Why are you smiling?”

“I was just thinking maybe that’s why your unrequited love dragged on so long.”

“Your Grace! Why are we suddenly talking about my unrequited love? Who did I ever love?!”

“Why act all shy now? Everyone at the imperial palace knows you were chasing after my mother.”

“T-that’s…!”

Jayden froze, caught off guard.

He had once harbored a forbidden affection.

Even after marrying, he never let go of the late Empress—Kallain’s mother, whose face he’d barely seen.

But it was hard to fault him entirely.

Jayden had loved her first, even before marriage. That love had consumed him ever since, like a fever that never broke.

Kallain was certain his mother had known. That’s why she entrusted herself to Jayden.

The former Emperor had been drunk on power and ambition, caring nothing for his child.
She must have anticipated his downfall and made preparations early on.

Was it maternal love? Or selfish foresight?
Maybe she just had an eye for people.

Either way, as per her final wishes, Jayden had spent his life raising the son born of a love that wasn’t his.

Even now—after all these years.

“There’s no one left to scold you for it now. The old man’s dead.”

“But he was still your father, and you just say he’s dead like that?”

Jayden’s offended expression was almost funny.

He hated the late Emperor with a passion, but still couldn’t stand when Kallain spoke ill of him.

“Would you rather I call him something else?”

“Anyway, that’s not the point right now!”

Flustered, Jayden fumbled his words and tried to steer the conversation back on course.

“What if Lady Sylvia says she wants to quit?”

“If she wants to leave, I can’t stop her.”

His eyes remained fixed on the papers before him, flipping absentmindedly through page after page.

The wind caught some, scattering them slightly across the desk.

And still, the old man’s voice hovered behind it all.

“She’s the healer we searched so hard to find. And I even shared my top-tier, life-earned intelligence with you. If we just follow through on—”

“Follow through, and she’ll just marry someone else and fly away like a bird.”

“Your Grace!”

Riling up the old man was oddly satisfying. Kallain could admit it—he wasn’t exactly a saint.

Even as the thought crossed his mind, more papers fluttered atop the ever-growing stack.

“Women hate nice guys.”

“They do say it gets boring.”

“You’ve heard that?”

“Not me. Just… in general.”

“Of course. From a friend, right? Jayden, you don’t even have friends.”

“Your Grace!”

And so the conversation, like all their conversations, ended with that familiar exasperated cry: Your Grace!

But by now, neither of them cared enough to argue seriously.

After Jayden left to attend to other duties, only the scratch of pen on paper filled the room.

Kallain leaned back in his chair, gaze settling on the flickering shadow across the room.

‘Right. This is how it should be.’

A simple line between employer and employee. Nothing more.

But it kept bothering him. That was all.

That shadow in the distance, drawing steadily closer, unsettled him.

And then, at last, that shadow knocked on the door.

“Come in.”

The door opened—and Sylvia strode inside.

She was the owner of that shadow.

* * *

The woman stood blinking, then slowly lifted her head.

Her pale face looked even more sunken than the last time he’d seen her.

And yet, she had somehow managed to bring in a tray with one hand.

‘Let’s see how far she’s willing to go.’

With that thought, he stayed silent, watching as she came to a stop just in front of him.

The bottle clinked lightly as she set it on the table.

The sound of the wine sloshing in the glass echoed strangely sensually in the quiet room.

What the hell is she trying to do?

Her sweet breath mixed with the moonlight, falling across the small space between them.
She moved slowly, as if hesitating—yet that made the scene all the more provoking.

Did she even realize? Probably not. If she did, she wouldn’t move like that.

She had no idea she was equipped with the kind of allure that could turn even a sane man into a monster.

She stopped just short of touching him, and began to pour the wine.

Drip, drip…

The sound flowed like a stream, ringing lightly in the still air.

“You’re openly seducing me now.”

“Please… take it.”

“I didn’t think you’d choose this method to fulfill my request.”

So this was her answer to his challenge: satisfy me.

Her trembling lips moved toward him and brushed his briefly before pulling away.

Under her long lashes, her golden eyes shimmered faintly in the moonlight.

At this rate, no man alive could resist her.

“What if I really do take you?”

“That’s… what I’m asking you to do.”

But here’s the problem.

While he could feel the heat rising low in his stomach, inside, he felt nothing but bitter discomfort.

Her hand, clutching the collar of his shirt, was shaking.
With hands like that, what did she expect to do?

“I knew my reputation wasn’t great, but… that’s disappointing.”

“In your eyes, I must look no different from those bastards, huh?”

Her eyes widened—completely caught off guard.
She hadn’t expected that reaction.

That startled expression sparked something in him—something unpleasantly satisfying.

“I-I didn’t mean it like that…”

He knew. He knew that pushing her like this was nothing more than petty cruelty.

She was desperate. She had no other choice.

She was teetering on the edge of a crumbling seesaw.

To her, staying beside him seemed safer than being caught again—bled dry and used by those other bastards.

And it was safer.

Better to fall into bed with him than be dragged back into that cold, dark place where she’d been beaten and tormented.

Even back in Agriche, where the whip cracked like thunder, she had endured with a steady gaze.

That meant the pain had already broken something in her.

Now, her flushed face was streaked with tears.

As if the last thread she was clinging to had finally snapped.

Yeah. That’s what he was to her.

Not a person. Not a man.

Just a rope. The last rope. One that could not, must not break.

That was why she’d rather lie with him than be dragged away.

The lesser evil.

But that was the problem.

He had always lived for the best—and he couldn’t stand being someone’s second-best.

The woman squeezed her eyes shut and whispered,

“I like you, Your Grace.”

A laughable lie floated in the air.

Was there ever a more ridiculous confession?

“If you’re going to act, at least make it convincing.”

“Try again. Find a better way to satisfy me.”

* * *

Ever since that day, the woman has been hovering around me without pause.

And every time our eyes meet—she looks away.

Then again, she looks at me. And again—she avoids my gaze.

Same thing happened during today’s meal.

“Is playing tag your new hobby?”

“…Sorry?”

“You keep sneaking glances at me.”

“…I apologize.”

Apologize? For what?

From the side, Sir Jayden was visibly restless, glancing back and forth before finally retreating from the table.

Even as he backed away, he kept glancing this way—typical of the old man.

The soft omelet sliced cleanly in half, and the steaming, fluffy fillings gave off a pleasant aroma and tasted just as good.

Considering the chef used to wield a sword, not a kitchen knife—no, even without that context—the food was always excellent.

But even that excellence didn’t seem enough to please the woman.

Whenever she sat in front of me, she turned into a ghost—pale and lifeless.

It was only after she forced out that strained apology that she finally picked up her fork.

Even then, she poked at her food listlessly.

The way she moved, it was hard to tell whether she was eating a meal or pecking at bird feed.

Honestly, she probably didn’t even realize what utensil she was holding.

Her face was so pale it was almost translucent.

So much so that, at this point, her condition was starting to seem… concerning.

We were eating together on Jayden’s suggestion, but I couldn’t help but question whether this was really a good idea.

“I like people who eat well.”

Only then did she start shoveling food into her mouth in a panic.

Somehow, it made me feel like I’d turned into a monster.

Still, watching her plate gradually empty was strangely satisfying.

As I watched, she kept eating—methodically, stubbornly—until her plate was cleared.

Though her face looked like she might pass out any moment.

* * *