Chapter 6
Scalding tea dripped down the back of the Duke of Dicatherion’s hand. It must have been quite hot, yet he didn’t take his eyes off Sertia as he asked,
“Are you serious?”
“More importantly—your hand…!”
It was Sertia who panicked instead, unsure of what to do.
His skin had turned red, suggesting a burn, but he showed no sign of wiping the liquid away. She wet a handkerchief with the cold water nearby and offered it to him.
Only then did he reluctantly wipe his hand before returning his gaze to her. The intensity in his crimson eyes suggested he was still waiting for her answer.
Sertia had no choice but to speak.
“Yes. I’m serious.”
The Duke’s pupils lost focus as his expression momentarily dulled. Perhaps to regain his composure, he downed the remaining tea in one gulp.
The only one who was truly flustered was Sertia.
Does he not feel pain?
“…Why?”
“Would you prefer the truth or a lie?”
Despite the ambiguity of her question, the Duke answered without hesitation.
“Both. I want to hear them both.”
“Then, I’ll start with the lie.”
He gave a slight nod.
“I happened to see Your Grace once by chance, and I fell for you at first sight.”
A lie. The Duke of Dicatherion was no fool. His gaze prompted her to continue.
“I want to give Your Grace what you desire—and in return, I want to receive what I want.”
The Duke slowly traced his lower lip with his index finger, as if her words intrigued him.
“Sertia. You seem to know what it is that I desire.”
His voice, emphasizing each syllable, carried significant weight.
Sertia swallowed hard, unable to hide her nervousness. She couldn’t grasp his true thoughts. Was his question a sign of agreement—or rejection?
To hide her unease, she lifted the teacup to her lips. The fragrance of the tea helped calm her pounding heart.
“I have eyes on the back of my head, you see. So while I may not know everything Your Grace wants, I know a fair amount.”
“I see.”
He didn’t sound particularly convinced.
Interlacing his fingers, the Duke spoke firmly.
“Is our engagement also part of this transaction?”
“Yes, that’s correct. However, since it may be burdensome for Your Grace, I’d like to propose a temporary engagement.”
“Burdensome.”
He repeated the word under his breath, as if tasting its meaning, before a faint smile curved his lips.
His positive reaction softened Sertia’s tense expression little by little.
“How long is this temporary engagement?”
“One year. Let’s be engaged for just one year.”
“Very well. Thank you for this proposal, Lady Sertia.”
“…Excuse me?”
Sertia blinked in surprise. She had rushed to lay out her conditions, fearing he might refuse—but he accepted her offer without hesitation.
What? And he’s even thanking me?
Did he realize how confused she was? The Duke of Dicatherion’s face seemed to glow with satisfaction, his smile only adding to the effect.
The man before her was the complete opposite of the rumors.
She couldn’t help but worry—would he get taken advantage of someday, all because of his trusting nature?
Even if it was a temporary engagement, she felt the need to offer him some advice.
“This might sound a bit unpleasant… but may I speak frankly, out of concern?”
“Renoch.”
“…Pardon?”
“My name.”
What’s with this guy?
His words, slightly out of focus with the conversation, were both bewildering and—oddly—charming. Well, his looks did carry most of the charm.
“Is it… really okay for me to call Your Grace by name?”
For unmarried men and women to call each other by their first names implied a deep level of intimacy. Even more so when one of them was a member of the royal family. Gossip would surely follow.
Yet Renoch, as if it were no issue, insisted confidently.
“We’re about to be engaged, even if temporarily. There’s no problem at all.”
“I suppose… but—”
“Unless you prefer I call you Lady Sertia. Should I?”
At his teasing tone, Sertia let out a breathless chuckle.
“You may call me Sertia.”
“Alright, then—Tia.”
Wait—what?
Since when did she give permission for a nickname? Conversations with him were absolutely draining.
But Sertia was the one who needed something from him—so, no matter how exhausting it was, she had to keep talking.
She carefully took out the contract she had brought in an envelope and handed it to Renoch.
“Please review this, and let me know if there’s anything you’d like to amend. I’ll adjust it as needed.”
Renoch skimmed through the contract briefly, but his quick reading still conveyed an air of authority.
“There’s one clause I’d like to add. Would that be acceptable?”
“Of course. Go ahead.”
At her approval, Renoch picked up a quill and wrote a new clause.
Sertia glanced at the addition:
‘If either party wishes to terminate the engagement early, it may be done by mutual agreement.’
It was the very clause she had debated including but ultimately left out. She was grateful he added it himself.
As soon as she gathered enough funds for her independence, she planned to release him.
After all, while Renoch might be young, he was still the head of the powerful Dicatherion family. If their engagement dragged on without marriage, his vassals would surely rebel—better for her to let him go first.
After finishing the revision, Renoch handed the contract back to her. Sertia read through it carefully, then smiled brightly.
“This looks perfect.”
“Good. I’ll have my aide draft the final version. He’s trustworthy—there’s no need to worry.”
In other words, there would be no leaks.
“Thank you.”
“No need for thanks. Ah—have you had dinner yet?”
His expression suggested he already knew the answer.
“Not yet.”
“Then, while the contract is being finalized, why don’t you enjoy a meal prepared by my personal chef?”
His subtle glances hinted that he hoped she wouldn’t refuse. Since she was hungry, Sertia accepted his offer with a smile.
Renoch immediately stood and extended his hand toward her.
“…Why your hand?”
“The floors of Dicatherion Manor are quite slippery. As your fiancé, I should ensure you don’t fall.”
Excuse me? We haven’t even signed the contract yet. And the floors were not slippery—they were polished dry as a bone.
Suppressing the urge to retort, Sertia took his hand.
Truthfully, she didn’t mind. Her perpetually cold hands welcomed the warmth of his touch.
“Try this as well.”
She heard those words repeatedly throughout the meal.
Renoch insisted she taste everything, to the point where Sertia’s stomach felt on the verge of bursting.
Yet somehow, she still had room for dessert. The cakes, peach sorbet, and smoothies disappeared effortlessly.
With her cheeks puffed out from the sweets, Sertia caught the chef smiling warmly from a distance—his twitching mustache oddly charming.
“Do you enjoy the dessert?”
Renoch’s unreadable gaze lingered on her.
“Yes, it’s delicious.”
Sertia raised her thumb in enthusiastic praise, making him laugh aloud in delight.
Once the servants left the room, his demeanor grew more serious.
“Now, I want to hear it. What do you think I desire?”
Ah.
Caught up in the food, she had almost forgotten.
And to think—her past life would prove useful once again.
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