080. Affection (3)

Lucia reached for the second button of Owen’s shirt, slowly undoing it to reveal a hint of his collarbone.

Trailing her fingers along his collarbone, she spoke in a low voice.

“People might follow the tradition of separate floors and separate rooms, but we both know that many couples sneak around at night, don’t we?”

It was true.

The strict etiquette of the nobility was often just for show. Officially, members of different genders weren’t to share a room until marriage, and noble families kept separate quarters until then. But in reality, it was rare for adults to stay entirely “proper.”

Thanks to that, there were effective herbal contraceptives in this world that didn’t exist on Earth, and everyone simply kept their secrets well-hidden. Even if rumors circulated, people pretended not to know.

“Our engagement is next month, and the wedding will be sometime next year, right?”

Owen nodded.

Lucia smiled, then asked, “So, are you going to wait until then? Do you think you can?”

Her question was both a challenge and a temptation.

“…I doubt it.”

With a low exhale, Owen tightened his arms around her.

“Then let’s go to the bedroom.”

* * *

It wasn’t until the following afternoon that Lucia finally woke up in Owen’s bed.

“Ah…”

When she tried to speak, her voice came out dry and cracked.

“Did you get enough sleep?”

Seeing her clutch her throat, Owen approached and handed her a cup of water. She eagerly drank it in one go, then nodded.

“Yes.”

“How are you feeling?”

“…I feel like I’m going to die.”

She couldn’t exactly answer positively. After all, it had been she who initiated everything, while Owen had hesitated. And yet here she was, utterly exhausted, while Owen seemed perfectly fine.

“Don’t look at me with that guilty face. There was nothing we could do.”

They were both new to this, so it was natural that things had been awkward at first. Even though they became more comfortable as the night went on, it was still a lot to handle. Besides, it was impossible to blame him for being naturally strong.

“I just feel like my back is going to break, and I can barely walk.”

“…I’ll bring you some painkillers.”

“Good. Do you mind if I stay here until tomorrow?”

“Of course.”

At his permission, Lucia smiled contentedly and fell back into the bed.

Watching her lie down, Owen asked, “Are you hungry?”

“Maybe a little…”

“Then let’s have something to eat before you take the painkillers.”

“Will the servants bring the meal here?”

Owen nodded at her question.

Lucia thought for a moment before spreading her arms with a mischievous smile.

Owen understood immediately, lifting her up in his arms.

“Let’s go to the dining room instead. Since you weren’t sure when I’d wake up, you didn’t call for the food yet, right?”

“That’s right.”

“Then you can carry me to the dining room. After all, everyone in Verdun estate will follow your orders, won’t they?”

“…They will.”

When a noble couple shared a night together, there were typically two approaches to handling the aftermath.

One, they could hide it entirely and meet in secret. Or two, they could keep everyone who might notice completely silent.

Owen and Lucia opted for the latter.

Other than Owen, everyone in the Verdun estate was either a servant or a knight. They all followed Owen’s orders with unwavering loyalty, so keeping quiet wouldn’t be difficult.

“I mean, it’s not like I need to hide anything. You’re the one who probably needs to cover up,” Lucia teased.

Owen’s ears reddened at her remark. He had been careful and mindful all night, not wanting to hurt her. Even if he hadn’t been so considerate, he wasn’t the type to leave marks.

Lucia, on the other hand, had left her mark all over him, filling his neck and collarbone with unmistakable traces of her affection. As a result, Owen’s neck was now decorated with a large patch of bandages.

“Still, you should be lenient with me. You were the one who tormented me so mercilessly. I had no idea you could be so… ruthlessly kind.”

Lucia’s teasing whisper in his ear brought a slight flush to Owen’s cheeks, which only made her chuckle more.

Last night, Owen had indeed been both relentless and tender. Even as he gazed at her with eyes full of affection, he showed no mercy. Despite his best efforts, his sheer strength made any gentle approach nearly impossible.

“Good morning, Your Grace. Lady Edelte.”

As Owen carried Lucia out of the bedroom, they encountered a maid and valet waiting discreetly in the corridor.

“Yes. Tell the kitchen to prepare our meal. We’ll be dining in the main hall,” Owen instructed one of them, who immediately hurried down the stairs.

“Which dining room would you like to use today?”

“Well, is there one you’d prefer?”

“What about the one with the round table? The one we used the first night I stayed here?”

Lucia chose the dining room where they’d had their first meal together when she stayed at the Verdun estate.

“Then let’s go with that.”

Having decided on the dining room, Owen carried Lucia down to the main floor. His hands were steady as he supported her back and legs, a skill he’d become proficient in, and she seemed equally at ease leaning against him.

“Come to think of it, Owen, your birthday is soon after the engagement, isn’t it?”

“It is, now that you mention it.”

Owen Verdun’s birth month was November—November 23, to be exact. He was born at the end of a crisp autumn.

“Then your birthday is right before yours.”

The last days of autumn soon gave way to early winter, and with it came Lucia’s birthday, on December 3.

“Only ten days apart.”

“It would seem so.”

“Do you think it’s fate?”

“Whether by chance or fate, it doesn’t matter. As long as we believe it’s destiny.”

Talking like this as they descended the stairs, they reached the first floor and made their way to the dining room. After setting her down in a chair, Owen posed a question.

“Shall we take a trip?”

“A trip?”

“Yes, for your birthday.”

For Lucia, the concept of a journey didn’t carry many memories. If she thought of “traveling,” she likely only remembered the ocean scenery from her early days—a thought that Owen found somewhat bittersweet.

“There’s still a few months left, but it’s not too early to start planning.”

“Hmm. If we’re going, it might be nice to leave on your birthday. It would make it more meaningful.”

“My birthday?”

“Yes. You probably think I haven’t had a proper birthday celebration.”

Caught off guard by her insight, Owen had no choice but to agree. She was right; he knew well enough how Lucia had grown up and could easily picture the kinds of birthdays she must have had.

“It wasn’t as bad as you think. There were elaborate cakes with candles, and parties were held. I spent my birthdays at the Edelte estate, surrounded by a lively celebration.”

Her words were light, but he wished there were no buried feelings beneath that casual tone. If only it were an indifference born of familiarity, rather than an absence of feeling born from numbness.

“Yes, I see.”

“Besides, you know how much I love a party,” she added with a playful tone, nudging him lightly.

“It’s your birthday I worry about more. My parents may have been distant, but they cared about appearances. They wanted to look like good parents to everyone else.”

“…Mine didn’t want to look like bad parents, either.”

“Even so, they were just abusers who resorted to violence,” she replied with a quick jab, a brief sneer passing over her face before she continued, “They may have held birthday parties for you, but did you get any real gifts?”

“…I was given a sword. Once a spear, or some arrows. And a horse.”

“All things you’d need for knight training.”

“They had expectations for me.”

“See? At least I got dresses and jewelry from my father and the duchess.”

Talking like this left both of them with mixed emotions. Neither had grown up in a family they could boast about, yet they were trying to reassure each other, each claiming the other’s life was harder.

It was strange, and somehow endearing, that they were having this conversation not to put one another down, but to say, “You don’t have to worry about me—take care of yourself.”

“All the more reason to make your birthday special this year. So let’s start the journey on your birthday, and travel until mine.”

Lucia spoke of a ten-day journey, and Owen couldn’t help but smile at the suggestion.

“Alright.”

She might not realize it herself, but Lucia had her own gentle side—a warmth reserved only for those closest to her, something that Owen cherished deeply. Her caring voice and expressions, her possessiveness that wanted to keep others’ eyes off him, and even her fussing that came from genuine concern—all of it he adored.

“Lucia,” he murmured, carefully taking her hand in his and gently tracing his thumb over it.

With a soft whisper, he added, “I love you.”

He spoke it sincerely each time, yet each time, his feelings felt deeper, more expansive.

Perhaps that’s why, even after hearing his confession countless times, Lucia’s heart still raced wildly.

“I love you too.”

Though Owen’s love was often shown through his actions and demeanor, he never refrained from saying it aloud. He would tell her how much he loved her with a look that said he couldn’t hold back, with words full of affection and tenderness. And last night, in a voice heavy with longing, he had murmured it over and over—telling her how much he loved her, wanted her, desired her.

“I always love you.”

She loved hearing it. Even if his gestures and tone made his feelings abundantly clear, she was grateful that he openly declared it, showing her every day just how deeply he cared.

Perhaps, in a way, she had already submerged herself in his vast, boundless sea. She had dived in and sunk deep, unable or unwilling to resurface, becoming a tiny spark submerged in his ocean of love.

Though she once thought herself to be a blaze, she may have become but a gentle flame engulfed by his sea, quiet and serene.

“Yes,” she murmured.

Then again, while his love was vast, he never tried to drown her in it. He remained steady, calm, and unmoving—like the moon, content to shine gently in the sky, reflecting the light of her fire.

“I know.”

His voice was calm, his face bright with a joyful smile.

Owen brought her hand to his lips and kissed her softly on the back of her hand.

“Still, it makes me happy to hear you say it.”