Chapter 33

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter: 33

Chapter Title: Something He'd Be Happy About

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“Hey, you know that thing about our lady?”

“What about the lady?”

“Doesn't she smell amazing? Like a woman's scent.”

The servant spouting nonsense about a “woman's scent” even had this dreamy look in his eyes.

“Ah, yeah. I think I've noticed a nice fragrance when she passes by.”

“Like flowers, or maybe fruit. But it's not a scent I've smelled before.”

“Maybe it's that Valmond smell?”

“Heh heh. Northern women do seem a bit different. So pale and slender. That waist is just a handful.”

Kaiyan clenched his fist without realizing it at the servants' crude chatter.

He knew better than anyone in Rowen Castle that Clodel smelled good.

Yet here were the other men in the castle yapping about it.

Kaiyan wasn't aware it was a forbidden symptom, but every night he waged a grueling battle against himself.

Whenever he wanted her at night...

When he visited her bedroom in the evenings, Clodel burrowed into his arms like she'd been waiting.

That was it.

“Insomnia, my ass?”

The woman fell asleep so quickly it was unbelievable.

Normally, sharing a bed meant talking or something more pleasant, right?

But no matter how many nights he visited, Clodel only slept. The moment her head touched some part of him, she'd yawn once and pass out like a light.

“Is this woman deliberately teasing me?”

Maybe pretending to sleep while secretly craving his touch.

Normally, he'd scoff that such thoughts were for pathetic fools hung up on women—a sharp insight like that—but when he gently shook her, she slept soundly without stirring.

Out of spite, one night he made an excuse about being busy and skipped her bedroom.

He was genuinely swamped, but he made time to dine with Clodel amid his duties. Sometimes he finished late in his office, but on those days, she'd stay up waiting due to her insomnia.

Since it was true he was busy, and he was putting in effort just to eat with her, he felt no guilt over the white lie.

But the next day, when he stopped by for lunch and saw the faint shadows under her eyes, her short sigh, her untouched meal, and her exhaustion, he felt like he'd committed a grave sin.

A small lie, a massive guilt.

In the end, aside from that one night, he visited her bedroom every evening, and his regrets grew. Her arms, now softer and plumper, tempted him to stroke them, and last night he'd dared for the first time to sneak a kiss on her forehead.

When his breath tickled her cheek and she frowned, twitching, then sighed with her mouth parting, the warm breeze carrying her body scent and heat brushed his jaw. Kaiyan spent the whole night too hot to sleep.

“And what? A woman's scent?”

Kaiyan was furious.

Those bastards were giggling over a floral fragrance he himself hadn't fully savored?

“Does that woman have no sense that she's my wife?”

Come to think of it, maybe not.

She'd been injured during the Crocodile Hunt, then suffered from Herzol, and was still recovering. The castle folk might only see her as the woman he'd let walk in drenched from the rain upon arrival and scolded publicly over a stolen button ornament.

“The butler was right.”

He'd hated hearing the nagging about how Clodel, who wasn't respected by the servants, couldn't raise an heir.

Yet after just a little time, the elder's wisdom proved spot on.

Men whose lives hung on his every word, who treated his utterances like divine oracles or heavenly laws.

Daring to gossip about the lord's wife smelling nice or being a northern woman.

It was his own doing, blinded by hatred for House Vermonte, so he couldn't blame anyone.

But he had no reason to let the underlings prattle on as if inviting them to “smell for themselves” that the lady had a lovely fragrance.

“Are you talking about my wife like that right now?”

His cold rebuke hit like lightning, making the servants' eyes bulge as they jumped back.

“L-Lord!”

“W-We were just...”

Kaiyan exuded a murderous aura with his glare alone.

“It had better be that I misheard. If I hear even a hint of you looking at the lord's wife the wrong way again, I can't guarantee your heads will stay on your shoulders.”

“Eek!”

The servants scrambled away, shoving each other in panic.

“Hoo.”

Heat rose hot to his forehead.

“Duke.”

As he entered the room, Clodel rose, curtsied, and greeted him.

But seeing his foul expression, she hesitated and gauged his mood.

“Is something wrong?”

It was no fault of hers. No reason to blame her.

Seeing how her mood brightened or darkened with his expression alone, he blamed his own lack of control.

“No. It was nothing.”

“Really?”

“Sit.”

Kaiyan sat and tried to focus on the meal before him.

“Um, Duke.”

Clodel's question came out of nowhere.

“Why do you always look so angry?”

“Me?”

He echoed her, and she widened her eyes as if he couldn't possibly not know.

“You don't know? You always frown like that.”

“Hmm.”

Kaiyan was flustered by her words.

“Want to see a mirror?”

Before he could say “eat first,” she hopped up with light steps, toddling to the corner to fetch a small round mirror.

“Eat fir...”

...st, he'd meant to say, but as she held it up to his shoulder, her soft hand resting there, Kaiyan stiffened.

That scent the servants had gossiped about wafted from her red hair brushing near his cheek, teasing his nose.

And her curves, bent low, pressed gently against his back.

Unthinkingly, Kaiyan straightened his spine and peered obediently into the mirror.

“...”

But seeing his reflection caught him off guard; he was speechless.

“Is this how I always look?”

He checked mirrors for his attire and always saw a stern, manly face.

At his age, grinning at himself? Unlikely.

He was the head of House Temneth.

Still, he'd never realized his brows were arched so coldly, his scowl so sharp. It was a surprise.

“You didn't know? Your eyes slant up like you're furious, wrinkles between your brows.”

“That's...”

Tracing back, had it started after his parents died?

A green boy thrust into leading a storied ducal house and vast territory.

To ensure no one looked down on him.

Right after becoming head, Kaiyan marched to war without naming an heir.

The awkward youth, half a man with a dull blade, returned five years later a honed, steel-edged sword.

“I've never seen you smile.”

No one dared say such things, so he'd never noticed.

“At first I thought I upset you. But I know it's not that now.”

To think he'd shown her only this face. Kaiyan felt at a loss.

But forcing a smile? His facial muscles were rigid, refusing to cooperate. The very attempt felt awkward.

“Hm. Lordly duties are busy and taxing.”

He brushed it off vaguely. Thankfully, Clodel seemed to accept it.

“Let's eat. I've got a busy afternoon.”

“Yes.”

The conversation ended blandly.

But Clodel's words lingered in Kaiyan's mind.

A fine day with sunlight filtering through the trees.

Clodel had laid out a spot in the castle's rear garden for a rare picnic.

Rowen had no harsh winters, staying mild year-round like summer.

Still, seasons shifted subtly; where tidy margarets had bloomed when she collapsed, colorful flower begonias now flourished.

“Madam. I picked flowers.”

“Yes. Hand them here.”

Clodel sat under the tree shade, busily weaving a flower crown.

“Shall I fetch more?”

“No. It's fine. You can go.”

As Clodel shooed her with a gesture, Hanna hesitated.

“But if you need anything, I can run errands while waiting.”

“I've brought everything. What more could I need?”

Indeed, three large wooden baskets brimmed with food.

“Then I'll go, Madam. I'm going. For real this time!”

Hanna backed away reluctantly, calling out louder and louder.

“...Gone?”

Clodel glanced that way, then quickly wove an extra crown from more flowers.

She hadn't dared make one for Kaiyan with Hanna watching.

“He might hate it as childish.”

Not long ago, she'd shown him the mirror about his constant angry face.

He'd seemed unaware, which flustered her.

“That handsome face always like that.”

It was her lighthearted remark, laced with fondness.

She wanted to please Kaiyan, do something to make him smile, something he'd enjoy.

Truthfully, as a duchess who hadn't fully stepped into her role, her options were limited.

Still, the ever-busy man made time daily for lunch with her, so she'd racked her brains for this short picnic.

Eating outside might refresh him, different from her room.

“Hope he likes it.”

For some reason—not anger, but lately he'd stared at her often, worryingly. Clodel fretted.

He neither scolded nor pointed out faults; she just couldn't fathom why.

“Lunch outside, huh.”

“Duke!”

Lifting her head, she saw him leaning against a tree, arm propped.

“Wow. So handsome.”

He'd trained with knights that morning; in his training shirt and light pauldrons, Kaiyan looked incredibly dashing. More rugged, from the man's world.

“Sit here.”

“Hot.”

She offered her handkerchief as he sat beside her, but he squinted slightly.

“Too filthy for this.”

“It's fine. Use it.”

“No. Better to wash.”

Wash? Here?

As Clodel puzzled, Kaiyan shed his gear and shirt, diving straight into the pond.

“Ah!”

Too fast to stop.

Splashes echoed, and soon his toned arms, head, and shoulders broke the rippled surface.

Kaiyan slicked back his wet hair, looking refreshed.

“Now I can breathe.”