Chapter 38

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter: 38

Chapter Title: Romantic Feelings

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“He only seems to like my body.”

“What? What do you mean by that?”

Hanna burst into open-mouthed laughter, as if it were the most ridiculous thing she'd ever heard.

“Don't laugh. I'm serious.”

Clodel puffed out her cheeks in a pout, but Hanna's face remained lit with amusement.

“That doesn't make any sense, Madam. The Lord truly cherishes you.”

“No, he doesn't.”

“Why would you think that? You've seemed a bit down these past few days. I was even thinking of calling a doctor.”

“I'm not sick anywhere.”

If she had to pinpoint it, the ache was in her heart.

Lately, Clodel had been feeling a frequent, nagging twinge right in the center of her chest.

“Madam. Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

“Then why say things like that?”

“It's just...”

There were things she couldn't even tell Hanna.

She knew Hanna would take her side unconditionally and try to cheer her up, rather than offering practical advice.

Clodel stood up abruptly.

“I can't take it anymore. I'm going to the rear garden for a bit.”

“Right now?”

“Yeah. I'll be back soon. A walk might lift my spirits.”

“I wish I could go with you, Madam. The Lord is too much.”

The lakeside in the rear garden, where she had once collapsed vomiting blood, had become one of Clodel's favorite spots.

Once Kaiyan learned she loved it and visited often, he issued a strict order barring gardeners from entering at dawn and ensuring no one set foot there all day.

The reason? To catch her on her occasional strolls and steal deep kisses.

Knowing how much she hated the idea of anyone seeing them, he imposed the no-entry rule, then argued that with no one around, he could kiss her to his heart's content.

'Does he really have to go that far just for a kiss?'

She couldn't bring herself to say he was wrong about his high-handed ways, but it wasn't bad for her either.

Even in her own room inside the castle, she never felt like she had a truly private space.

The rear garden let her be alone, and that was a relief.

“Oh. A flower I haven't seen before has bloomed.”

In Rowen's flower-strewn lands year-round, the serene lakeside always had new colorful blooms popping up with every visit, brightening her mood.

Clodel carefully removed the dress she was wearing, folded it neatly, dipped her feet in the lake, and slowly waded in deeper.

Raising her toes high and parting the water, she made her way to the center, then relaxed her body and floated on her back atop the surface.

Splash.

Her body submerged completely for a moment, but as she let go of all tension, it naturally bobbed back up.

“Phew.”

Clodel swept the water from her face with both hands, extended her arms, lay back, gazed at the sky, and closed her eyes.

After Kaiyan completely blocked all foot traffic in the rear garden.

She often came here secretly to practice swimming.

That day had started with her asking him to teach her, only to end in their first kiss.

But the lessons he'd given under the guise of teaching her to swim stuck to the basics and theory, so by mulling them over and practicing alone, she'd actually learned to swim.

'You're a Temneth. Not a Vermonte. You can't call yourself one if you can't even handle this much.'

At first, she'd wanted to show that man she could do it too.

She'd wanted to surprise him by saying she'd learned to swim.

“Haa.”

These days, the spot itself had become her escape. Lying in the water soothed her mind, so she came almost every day.

In the place where she'd first come with Kaiyan, without him there, her longing for the man whose warmth she'd shared the night before only grew stronger.

“I thought unrequited love would be fine.”

Clodel was struggling with her uncontrollable emotions.

Kaiyan's attitude was a touch cold at times, but he was her husband.

She'd thought that since they were already married, it wouldn't hurt to develop feelings for him—a misjudgment from her inexperience with romance.

“I wish he liked me. But that's impossible, right?”

Objectively, Clodel's situation was quite good.

She knew that herself.

She'd come to Rowen Castle expecting to die from Herzol, but before that, she'd endured abuse from House Temneth's people and knew things could go wrong for her.

A lord was an absolute ruler in his domain, like a king.

Even if wives died one after another due to his cruel temperament, finding a replacement virgin was easy.

On that first night, arriving at the castle feeling like she was stepping into quicksand.

When Kaiyan gripped her slender wrist, so thin it seemed it might snap in his hand, he was careful.

When he held her arm or elsewhere, he handled her with consideration, worried his sturdy frame might hurt her.

She'd braced herself to endure the forced intimacy, but unlike his undisguised contempt for House Vermonte, his gentle touch eased her tension, letting her surrender her body.

Even before he'd procured the medicine for her Herzol.

Maybe she'd liked him from that very day?

That might explain why she'd saved him from the crocodile.

“Haa. It's so sad.”

Kaiyan was her husband.

They shared a meal together once a day and explored intimacy every night.

But her innocent, maiden heart—unlike their sudden marriage—yearned for even a fragment of his affection, hovering around him.

“I thought it was fine to like my husband anyway. What an idiot.”

Admitting that to herself only made it natural that she ended up longing for his heart like this.

She wanted to know more about Kaiyan.

What he liked, what interested him.

How he'd grown up, his hobbies, what he did in his free time.

All Clodel knew were a few of his favorite foods, his sleeping habits, and his obsession with her body.

He desired her every day, and she yielded willingly.

As Duke Vermonte's adopted daughter, she had no solid family backing.

She owed her life to his mercy in obtaining the medicine; being treated as duchess was already more than she deserved.

Their bond was shallow, and the more she grew fond of him, the more insecure it made her.

When night deepened and he pulled her into his arms to sleep, hope fluttered that maybe he liked her too.

But when morning came and he left the bedroom, reality snapped her back: of course not.

Then at lunch, if he fed her his favorite foods or cut her meat into small pieces himself, a lump would form in her chest, making her think, I like you, why don't you see it?

After he left for his study, until sunset and deep night when he returned to the bedroom, her mind swirled with thoughts of him: He's busy with work, he doesn't think of me, but I'm suffering alone. Her heart ached.

If only the nights were longer.

Then she could savor his embrace, that fleeting happiness and warmth, for more time.

Rowen's mild climate and long days meant short nights, unlike Valmond's, leaving her wanting.

If this were Valmond, Kaiyan would stay in her bedroom two or three hours longer.

“Why did we have to meet like this?”

Being from House Vermonte was like starting with a strike against her in a normal romance.

They had to build fondness from scratch, but she'd begun deep in dislike territory.

With a heavy heart, Clodel climbed out of the water, dried her hair and body with the towel she'd brought.

The thin undergarments dried quickly under the towel.

She dressed carefully and headed back to the castle, her face as gloomy as when she'd left for the garden.

These small escapes no longer brought her comfort.

Several servants stood before the lord's study, each holding a large box the size of a person.

Kaiyan sat in his chair, eyeing the young woman before him with a sharp gaze.

Her skin was fair and taut, makeup meticulously applied around her eyes and cheeks. Her dark brown hair was styled in thick, round curls topped with a feathered hat—a perfect embodiment of the capital's fashion.

Madame Marcel, whom he was interviewing, was applying to be Rowen Castle's new seamstress.

“You seem younger than I expected.”

“Thank you for the compliment, Duke.”

The smiling beauty's green eyes sparkled.

“I'm not young, just youthful-looking. Women have many ways to hide their age.”

“Definitely capital style. Can you make Rowen dresses just as elegantly?”

“I've completed the order you sent. Please take a look.”

Kaiyan was carefully selecting a new seamstress.

Several had come for interviews with dresses tailored to Clodel's measurements in advance, but none satisfied him, so he'd paid them off and sent them away.

At Madame Marcel's call, the servants bustled in, unpacked a torso form from the box, and soon draped it with a flowing southern-style dress of chiffon lace.

“What do you think?”

The dress she'd made was exquisitely crafted. Not layered with multiple laces, but a single white chiffon sheet dyed gradually darker to deep red at the hem—it would look stunning on Clodel.

“Not bad at all. The best so far.”

For Kaiyan's stingy praise, that was high acclaim.

“Are you married?”

“Divorced.”

“Children?”

“Unfortunately, none.”

“Then you can reside in the castle.”

“I'd be honored.”

Kaiyan stroked his chin and returned to his seat.

“You'll be Rowen Castle's new seamstress from now on.”

“It's an honor, my Lord.”

Madame Marcel didn't hide her delight.

“My wife has no acquaintances in the south. She only spends time with the maid from Valmond. Make it your duty to bring joy to the duchess.”

“Of course.”

Kaiyan liked the agreeable woman.

The previous interviewees had all been handsome young men, so he'd rejected them outright.

The thought of one of his hires ogling Clodel's exquisite figure while draping thin silk or lace on her during his busy work hours made his blood boil—he couldn't hire them.

Coming with a recommendation from Madame Cronac of the capital's salon, her skills were undoubtedly solid.

After Madame Marcel left, staring at the dress in his study made him itch to see Clodel wearing it.

“Bring this and follow me.”

He ordered a servant in the corridor and hurried to Clodel's room with quick steps.

Lately, he always moved briskly when heading to her.

“Clodel.”

So eager, he skipped knocking and opened the door himself.

“Kaiyan. What brings you here?”

“A gift.”

The torso form, dressed per his orders, was placed in the room, and the servant swiftly exited, closing the door.

“What do you think? Do you like it?”

But contrary to his expectations, Clodel looked sullen, her shoulders slumping.

“Another gift?”