Chapter 4

Just as Edith's lips parted in bewilderment, he took the opportunity to shove a cookie into her mouth.

“Mm ”

“Look, my body still acts on its own accord.”

The cookie crumbled in his grasp, fingers clenched with such force that veins bulged visibly beneath his skin.

“Drink some tea.”

Even amidst the absurdity, he didn't forget to gently tilt the teacup to her lips, ensuring she wouldn’t choke.

“Does this seem remotely normal to you, my lady?”

“Mmph, mph!”

Yurik stared intently at Edith’s pale forehead, his expression thunderous.

“Damn it.”

What an absolutely ridiculous scene. Thank heavens the tea had cooled, or the woman’s entire palate would have been scalded by now.

“Khh, cough, cough, ”

Forced to swallow a mouthful of tea, Edith sputtered with a restrained cough. At that moment, the parlor doors flew open, and the Baroness burst into the room.

“Edith! What on earth is going on?”

The moment her eyes took in the scene, the Baroness’s pupils trembled violently.

“Good heavens…”

She clamped both hands over her mouth in shock. Meanwhile, Yurik closed his eyes tightly, wiping the corner of Edith’s lips with his thumb.

“When I look at her, I lose all sense of control.”

“Cough, ”

He gently patted her back as she struggled to breathe, his touch incongruously tender.

“All I feel is an overwhelming compulsion to treat her more gently than anyone else in this world.”

Yurik’s voice was low and biting, as if chewing the words in his mouth.

“It’s as though I’ve lost all command of my own limbs.”

“...Oh my…”

To an outsider, his words might’ve sounded like a fevered confession of love. Indeed, the Baroness’s cheeks flushed a deep crimson.

---

Returning to the ducal estate, Yurik yanked off his tie with a sharp pull. No sooner had he flung himself onto the sofa than a thunderous boom echoed from beyond the window.

“Fitting weather…”

The downpour darkening the sky outside seemed a mirror of his inner turmoil. His grip tightened involuntarily on the leather armrest.

He could still feel the weight of the Baroness’s scrutinizing gaze, those eyes filled with meaning. She seemed wholly convinced he was courting her daughter.

‘I had no idea Your Grace was such a fervent man. Still… isn't it a bit hasty, given that you're not yet engaged?’

Of course, she would say something so absurd. The thought made his temples throb, but if he were to correct her…

‘...Let go!’

…His body would just put his arm around Edith Hamilton and feed her.

“Damn it. Damn it all!”

He had no desire to be a scoundrel, a man who imposed on a lady without feeling, least of all in the presence of her mother.

He could tolerate being called cold-hearted toward women, but a deviant?

He couldn’t allow such a disgraceful label to stain his name.

‘I beg your pardon, Madam Hamilton. That was unseemly of me.’

In the end, he had to grit his teeth and issue a proper apology. When he glanced aside, embarrassed, only to meet Edith’s dazed, vacant stare, he very nearly exploded with frustration.

The image of her unfocused face stirred something tight and suffocating in his chest, and he scrubbed his face with a dry hand.

“Haa…”

To hell with everything, he wanted nothing more than to return to the Duchy. Draped across the office couch, he covered his eyes with an arm.

“Knock knock.”

A polite knock interrupted the silence.

“Enter.”

“Your Grace.”

The visitor was Miller, his secretary. Upon seeing Yurik’s face, Miller hesitated, lips parting in concern.

“…Are you all right, sir?”

“Do I look all right to you?”

“No, sir.”

Yurik lay sprawled in an unusually lax posture, worlds apart from his typically precise demeanor. Miller narrowed his eyes, surveying him.

“Have you fallen in love?”

“What utter nonsense.”

“There’s already gossip spreading across the capital’s salons. That Your Grace has fallen, deeply, for Lady Hamilton.”

Yurik let out a hollow chuckle. When disbelief reached a certain peak, all one could do was laugh.

“It’s been a single day. Do people have nothing better to do?”

Then again, that cursed incident at the New Year’s ball, though largely dismissed due to the scandal of his affliction, had been witnessed by half the nobility.

“I have no feelings for that woman. In fact, I’ll remain here at the Duchy. Have all reports delivered to me directly.”

He pressed his hands to his aching eyes. Rumors would fade with time, but the curse, who knew how long it would last?

If it could be broken at all.

Fairies were spoken of in hushed whispers, more myth than reality. How in the world was he supposed to find one?

One thing was certain, he had to stay as far away from Edith Hamilton as possible before his body embarrassed him further.

“There’s nothing on the schedule requiring your direct presence, sir…"

Miller flipped through his ever-present notebook.

At this, Yurik’s expression visibly brightened.

“Excellent.”

“There is a new opera premiering at the Imperial Theatre, however. By the playwright Your Grace once commissioned on behalf of the family.”

“Ah. That.”

A long-forgotten memory stirred briefly in his mind.

“It’s essentially his debut. As a patron, it might be appropriate to attend at least once.”

Miller handed him an envelope, bearing the seal of the Imperial Theatre. Inside were a letter of thanks and two tickets.

“Shall I confirm your attendance?”

“No.”

He had no intention of lingering in the capital, he was bound for the Duchy, and nothing else mattered.

“Your Grace? Might I inquire what you’re doing just now?”

“I’m writing a letter to Miss Hamilton, inviting her to the opera.”

“…Ah. I see.”

Miller tried not to let his disbelief show on his face, but it was written plainly in his eyes.

And then realization dawned on Yurik.

“What the!”

He flung his fountain pen aside, eyes locked on the parchment atop his mahogany desk.

To the esteemed Lady Hamilton,

“Damn it. It has come to this.”

“Damn this infernal body…”

Grinding his teeth, he glared at the rain-streaked window. For a moment, he moistened his lips with his tongue before finally turning to Miller.

“Miller. I need you to promise me something. No matter what instructions I give regarding Lady Hamilton, do not carry them out.”

“…May I ask what sort of instructions, specifically?”

“I don’t know. Just anything that seems kind or thoughtful, don’t do it.”

“Like invitations to meals, sending gifts, inquiring after her health, utterly useless gestures like that.”

Even as he rattled off these protests, Yurik’s hand continued diligently drafting the letter. After affixing his seal, he passed it to Miller without hesitation.

Miller stared at the surreal sight, momentarily speechless. He scratched his head, holding the letter aloft.

“So… Your Grace would like me not to deliver this to Lady Hamilton?”

“That’s right. Don’t send it.”

“Very well. Then I’ll dispose of it in the fire.”

Miller turned toward the hearth, shaking his head.

Now it’s settled, Yurik thought, releasing a long breath.

“Wait!”

The cry escaped his lips before he could stop it.

Startled, Miller froze mid-step.

“…Yes?”

A cold sweat trickled down Yurik’s spine. His body refused to budge, as if waiting, demanding, that he send the letter.

“…Send the letter.”

He had no choice but to comply. His jaw clenched so tightly the muscles twitched from the strain.

“Understood.”

Miller gave him a long, incredulous look before disappearing from the room.

“Damn fairy bastard…”

Yurik muttered to himself in the empty study.

---

‘His Grace had clearly lost his mind.’

Still reeling from the recent spectacle, Miller strode down the corridor. He hadn’t the faintest idea how to keep up with the madness.

‘Why not just admit he liked her? Why all this agony?’

‘Good-looking men, it seemed, had to make even falling in love unnecessarily dramatic.’

“Ah, Mr. Anderson.”

Miller spotted the Glassheart family’s butler at the far end of the hallway and gave him a wink.

“You’ve heard the rumors, I presume?”

“They’re true?”

Anderson’s eyes gleamed when he spotted the fluttering letter in Miller’s hand.

“No… could it be…?”

“Yes. That ‘could it be.’ A letter for Lady Hamilton, inviting her to the opera.”

“Good heavens…”

The elderly steward’s eyes welled with tears. He fumbled for a handkerchief and dabbed at the ones trailing down his cheeks.

“I never thought I’d live to see the day…”

“Well, it must be serious for him to act this way. He’s quite taken, though he hasn’t yet admitted it to himself.”

Anderson adjusted his glasses, a fond smile touching his lips.

“He’s always been that way, since he was a boy. Cold when happy, cold when angry. I expect you’ll have a hard time, Mr. Miller. His Grace is… emotionally delicate.”

“It’s all right.”

After what he’d witnessed today, Miller was fully prepared for the chaos ahead. This was, after all, the first woman his lord had ever shown interest in.

“…I’ll be the one to support him.”

“I knew I could count on you. Mr. Miller, if ever you need assistance, you’ve only to ask.”

Miller laughed.