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The countryside manor was tranquil.
The neglected garden had grown wild with weeds. Upon hearing of Eleanor's arrival, gardeners were hastily summoned to transplant blooming shrubs from the fields into the unkempt grounds.
The house itself, spanning a dozen or so rooms, felt modest compared to the grand mansion Eleanor had left behind—more akin to a secondary residence. The baron overseeing Rubellon Hills fumbled nervously as he guided her through the property, avoiding eye contact altogether.
Eleanor stepped onto the freshly turned soil of the garden, her gaze drifting over the rising mist beyond the loosely constructed fence.
“...It’s nice.”
Squinting slightly against the bright sunlight, she smiled faintly. Evelyn, who had been supporting her, was unsure whether her words were sincere or sarcastic and grew flustered.
“At least it won’t be too bad once it’s properly tended to.”
Evelyn was diligent but somewhat timid. While capable of handling minor tasks efficiently, she lacked confidence in more significant matters. This made her an ideal companion for keeping Eleanor's secrets safe.
“Yes, not bad at all.”
As Eleanor turned to enter the house, a subtle smile lingered on her cheeks.
Her slow steps carried a newfound lightness. The simplicity of this place—borderline rustic compared to the opulence of the capital—filled her with quiet excitement.
In the city, she had always been under scrutiny: friends, acquaintances, family members, and servants alike treated her every action as fodder for gossip. Her successes were dismissed as expected—”Eleanor must act accordingly”—while even minor mistakes were exaggerated and ridiculed. Being a prominent figure in high society came with relentless pressure.
Here, however, people seemed to regard her simply as a noblewoman visiting the countryside. The old steward with his weathered face or the freckled maid would never understand the harsh storms that raged around her back in the imperial center.
Eleanor dismissed Evelyn, urging her to take some well-deserved rest during their stay. After years of loyal service, she wanted her trusted maid to enjoy this period of respite alongside her.
To Liam, she assigned a new attendant—one tasked not only with maintaining weapons but also ensuring bathing and washing needs were met. Though Liam’s unwavering loyalty earned her trust, having him constantly by her side meant cleanliness was preferable. She conveyed these instructions indirectly, careful not to embarrass him.
Once alone, Eleanor opened the window of her second-floor bedroom, letting in the cool spring breeze.
The gravel path leading from the gate to the entrance showed signs of frequent use, its stones worn smooth and rounded. The windowsill where she rested her hand bore cracks, its waterproof coating long faded. The entire estate exuded a serene, antiquated charm.
Rather than appearing neglected, the manor simply reflected the lack of attention it had received due to the Rolands’ absence. Eleanor herself rarely ventured outside the main family mansion, staying in larger castles within the heart of their territories when traveling. This place had merely been a stopover along the way.
Though the surroundings might have lacked refinement, the faces of the people brimmed with contentment. A gardener paused briefly to lean against a tree trunk, tearing into a large loaf of bread.
“It’s nice... truly nice.”
Too much exposure to the spring sun could bring color back to her cheeks—an undesirable outcome for someone playing the role of an invalid. With that in mind, Eleanor drew the curtains.
She then feigned exhaustion from the journey, settling into an early evening nap.
When she awoke coughing violently, night had fallen. Evelyn, who had likely checked on her repeatedly, rushed in immediately to light the lamps.
“You must be tired. I was worried about waking you since your medication schedule is strict, but it seems we’re running late.”
“Right, give me the medicine first.”
Eleanor dutifully took the prescribed medication from her personal physician. Though uncertain of its exact composition, she knew it wasn’t a pneumonia treatment.
“I’ll bring dinner next.”
“No need.”
“You should eat something.”
Maintaining her frail appearance required discipline; gaining weight would complicate her act. Eleanor, adept at managing her figure, resisted temptation easily despite hunger pangs.
“Fine, just a little.”
Their usual back-and-forth over meals ensued. However, Evelyn’s demeanor seemed unusually tense. She fidgeted anxiously, unable to sit still, as if burdened by guilt.
When the dinner tray arrived, Evelyn hovered over the maids setting the table, nitpicking trivial details with uncharacteristic impatience. There was an underlying nervousness in her behavior that puzzled Eleanor.
As Eleanor half-heartedly picked at her food, another presence stirred outside the door.
“Lady Eleanor, it’s me, Liam.”
Of everyone present during her convalescence, Liam would undoubtedly be the one she relied on most.
Eleanor didn’t know the extent of his martial skills but assumed he was competent enough given his position as a guard for House Roland and Edwin’s explicit trust in him regarding her safety.
Even at this late hour, she readily granted him entry.
“Come in.”
Liam entered wearing casual attire, his hair combed neatly back after shedding the grime accumulated beneath his uniform. Clean-shaven and composed, he now appeared far more presentable. With a touch of flattery, one might even call him handsome.
Another figure followed closely behind him.
For Liam to escort an unauthorized person into her chambers unsettled Eleanor momentarily.
But upon seeing who it was, she nearly screamed in shock.
‘How did Fertan manage to get here…!’
Striding forward with an exaggerated bow, his demeanor felt unfamiliar. Such a gesture was unbecoming for someone of his rank as a grand duke.
Moreover, standing side by side with Liam in similar attire only heightened the strangeness. The atmosphere reeked of...
“I offer my greetings. I am Petrick Gardner, newly appointed as a guard under House Roland. It is an honor to serve Lady Eleanor on my first assignment.”
Eleanor quickly grasped the absurdity of this charade.
“A guard?”
This was clearly an elaborate setup—a collective scam orchestrated right before her eyes.
From Fertan’s over-the-top impersonation of a novice guard to Liam and Evelyn feigning ignorance while playing along, it was all quite the spectacle. She finally understood why Evelyn had been so visibly tense—too timid to fully cooperate, the poor maid darted her gaze around nervously.
It was evident she had anticipated this chaos but had no contingency plan. Her frantic habit of gnawing at her fingertips betrayed just how uncomfortable and overwhelmed she felt in this precarious situation.
Liam prattled on, introducing his “fellow guard.” It was mind-boggling how Fertan and Liam had coordinated such a seamless act.
“Sir Petrick is a highly skilled warrior specially recruited to protect Lady Eleanor during her stay far from home… um, that is…”
Liam stumbled through what seemed like a memorized script.
“Lady Eleanor insisted on bringing only one guard, but Lord Edwin, worried for her safety, sent Sir Petrick after us… Does that sound about right?”
He glanced at Fertan for confirmation. With a crooked smirk, Fertan surveyed the trio as if they were some clandestine secret society.
While Eleanor found the situation exasperating and Liam and Evelyn were at a loss, the mastermind himself remained utterly unfazed.
Though she didn’t feel as though a ghost had returned from the dead, Fertan’s appearance here was unexpected. Even more surprising was how seamlessly he had infiltrated her inner circle without raising suspicion. Perhaps he had planned this when Liam accompanied her to the ducal palace once before.
For now, urgent conversation was needed. Eleanor wanted to speak with him alone to address her burning questions, but Fertan chose to humor Liam's earnest inquiries first.
“To the locals, that explanation will suffice. However, if anyone from the main house arrives, you must claim I’m part of the local security detail assigned to assist.”
“Yes, understood.”
“It shouldn’t be too difficult. Nobles accustomed to city life tend to look down on country folk and avoid mingling unless necessary. Liam, your role is to manage both sides discreetly.”
In other words, Fertan intended to pose as a city guard accompanying Eleanor, blending into her retinue. Occasionally, when visitors from the main house arrived, he would reverse roles, pretending to be a local.
“I’ll do my best not to get caught.”
“Eleanor’s loyal followers are spirited indeed. You have excellent qualities as a guard.”
What did her loyalty have to do with his praise? His compliments were as ambiguous as ever.
Fertan lounged lazily on the armrest of a sofa, looking nothing like a proper guard, and turned his attention to Evelyn next.
“Evelyn, you can handle things similarly. If faced with a difficult question, simply say you don’t know. Your tendency to blush easily works in your favor—it makes you appear shy and flustered.”
Evelyn herself was unexpected. Quiet and timid, she seemed entirely unsuited for conspiracies, yet here she was, nodding with flushed cheeks despite Eleanor’s reservations.
The maid confessed she had learned of Eleanor’s plans through Liam and resolved to follow her mistress’s lead.
Though her face betrayed lies easily, her willingness to keep their secrets was invaluable.
As the daughter of a viscount, Evelyn occasionally attended social gatherings alongside Eleanor, inevitably familiarizing herself with prominent figures. While Fertan wouldn’t recognize a mere maid, Evelyn—and Liam—knew him well.
Conversely, the rural commoners were oblivious to the grand duke’s identity. No servant of House Roland would associate this man with Fertan.
Thus, with their help, Fertan could convincingly remain hidden in the countryside estate.
“Fertan, are you assigning tasks to my people now?”
He shrugged casually, exchanging friendly glances with his two accomplices.
“Well then, let’s work together harmoniously.”
“Fertan…!”
“Please call me Petrick, my lady.”
His sly grin revealed not even a hint of compromise.
“No matter what, someone might recognize you. What if someone from the capital visits?”
“That’s my concern. I’m exceptionally good at hiding. Trust me.”
“Hiding alone won’t solve everything. That’s far too reckless!”
As Eleanor’s voice sharpened with anger, the tension thickened. Sensing the mood, Liam and Evelyn discreetly excused themselves, leaving the two alone.
Her piercing glare, framed by icy violet eyes, was meant to intimidate. Silently amused by her own attempt to appear threatening—even reducing her blinking to enhance the effect—she knew from experience how futile it was against Fertan’s provocations. This was merely preparation for the inevitable clash.
Suddenly, a violent cough erupted between her labored breaths. The weekly medication was potent enough to induce wheezing fits and occasional metallic sounds.
In an instant, he rushed to her side, seating her gently on the bed. His warm hand stroked her back soothingly.
“It’s time to stop the medicine. You’ve endured much.”
“I’ve only taken it three times. Wouldn’t it be okay to take it one more time, just in case?”
She feared that showing improvement too quickly might drag her back into the position of crown princess.
The steady warmth of his hand on her back gradually soothed her coughing fits.
“Since the wedding has already been postponed, we can manage the rest by controlling information here.”
“With Liam and Evelyn’s help, you mean? I’m not sure this will work. If we get caught, it’ll be a disaster.”
“Trust me and leave it to me. But seeing you cough like that breaks my heart.”
“For your information, I’ve done well so far. Successfully delaying the wedding counts as mission accomplished, doesn’t it?”
Fertan’s sudden reappearance still felt surreal. She had intended to scold him for startling her, but her violent coughing fit had derailed that plan.
Still, she needed answers. She narrowed her eyes at him sharply.
“No matter how skilled you are at conspiracies, disguising yourself as a guard and hiding here is reckless.”
Fertan showed no sign of backing down despite her pressing words. Acting as if he didn’t have a care in the world, he lifted her onto his lap with ease.
This was absurd. Was it really okay for him to act so casually right now?
The last she had heard of Fertan, he was presumed dead. Evelyn had relayed widespread rumors without confirming their accuracy, leaving Eleanor unsure of what truly happened.
Now, faced with Fertan’s abrupt declaration to infiltrate as a guard, her initial shock had prevented her from asking questions sooner. But now, she scrutinized his body carefully before speaking.
“I heard you were ambushed again. Are you hurt?”
She phrased her question delicately. Asking outright whether he was alive after being declared dead would be too provocative. Though curiosity about his survival tugged at her, his well-being mattered far more than the details of his return.
“As you can see, I’m perfectly fine.”
He smirked nonchalantly, fluttering his eyelashes in a way that exuded charm while acting as though nothing had happened.
Then, his hand, which had been idly tracing her side, suddenly froze.
“Eleanor, why have you lost so much weight?”
“Your assurance alone isn’t enough to convince me. I’ve seen your battered back before.”
“Is there no food in House Roland? Why aren’t they feeding you?”
“Wait, hold on. Let’s talk about your condition first, not mine—”
With one arm, he effortlessly lifted her and carried her across the room to the table. His overwhelming presence made it hard for her to assess his health properly.
Sitting together on a single chair, Eleanor felt like a child perched on her mother’s knee. His hand continued massaging her back gently, wary of another coughing fit.
Fertan pressed his ear against her chest, listening intently to the sounds emanating from her lungs. The doctor had mentioned wheezing or scraping noises, and his expression grew increasingly somber as he moved his ear around her chest, listening carefully.
Though it was all due to the effects of the medicine he provided, his concern seemed genuine—as if he were tending to a critically ill patient.
“I’ll bring the antidote tomorrow. You must have suffered from all that coughing.”
She hadn’t complained, simply leaning against him quietly, but his excessive worry made her feel like an overacting invalid.
“Don’t rush things. The luggage from home hasn’t fully arrived yet, and Edwin said he’d visit soon to check on my quarters.”
While she avoided sunlight to keep her complexion pale, Fertan seemed eager to restore her health immediately.
Though his care was appreciated, tomorrow felt too soon. His fussing risked undoing all her painstaking efforts.
Edwin would likely arrive within a day or two. Her brother, who had poured everything into arranging her marriage, was now doing everything possible to ensure her swift recovery. He had criticized her short outings before her illness, but now, citing doctors’ advice about city air worsening her condition, he sent her away for convalescence.
A large hand covered her heart, radiating warmth. Feeling the sharp ridges of her ribs beneath her thin frame, Fertan’s brow furrowed deeply.
“I can’t stand this. What on earth happened in your household when I wasn’t watching? Did they starve you as punishment? How could you waste away so drastically in just a few days?”
“It’s nothing serious. I gradually reduced my meals while preparing for the wedding, and after falling ill, I couldn’t eat much without feeling self-conscious.”
“I told you not to worry about the wedding dress! Where did you even have fat to lose…!”
Unexpectedly, Fertan’s indignation revealed a rather endearing side of him.
“To be honest, I do feel a bit disappointed about the dress. It was beautiful.”
Eleanor deliberately teased him, causing his thick eyebrows to shoot up like startled birds. After enduring his constant teasing, it was her turn for revenge. A faint smile lingered in her hollowed violet eyes.
Fertan sighed deeply, choosing not to engage further. Instead, he pulled a bowl of soup closer and pressed a spoon into her hand.
“First, let’s fill your stomach.”
His glare urged her to eat quickly. When her hand hesitated, he took the spoon back, scooping up a mouthful of clear tomato soup and bringing it close to her lips.
Her tightly closed lips refused to part. She stared at the spoon, her expression conflicted.
“I can’t afford to gain weight.”
“One bowl of soup won’t make you gain weight.”
“Even so…”
“The postponement of your wedding won’t be reversed, I promise. I’ll take full responsibility. Please, just eat.”
Fertan, who had once been mischievous and playful, now offered food with an uncharacteristically stern expression. His demeanor suggested how much her gaunt appearance troubled him.
For Eleanor, managing her condition to influence the situation around her was more important than satisfying her hunger. Still, she knew she needed to eat something. If Edwin arrived and saw her looking even more frail, he might conclude that the convalescence had no effect.
“Give me the spoon.”
Though she had accepted cheese sticks without protest last time, she wasn’t about to let him feed her again so easily.
“Enough. Open up.”
Fertan cupped her pale cheek with his large hand, stroking it gently as if pained by her fragility. His thumb pressed firmly just below her lips, coaxing her jaw to drop slightly. With the utmost care, as if handling a delicate snowflake, he leaned in and kissed her softly. His lips brushed against her small, soft lower lip tenderly, massaging them together. As her mouth parted further, his tongue slipped in shallowly, gliding lightly over her teeth.
In her daze, soup followed the kiss into her mouth. His earnest effort to feed her stirred something warm within her. Recognizing his sincerity, she decided to humor him and accepted what he offered. Fertan visibly relaxed.
Eleanor, ever pragmatic and aware of her value, had endured hunger and pain stoically throughout her mission. While feigning illness and coughing, her ribs had ached, but such discomforts were trivial compared to the joy of delaying the wedding. She felt fortunate to have played her part in Fertan’s grand scheme and personally relieved to avoid intimacy with Leonard.
“How did you know I didn’t want to marry Leonard?”
The question lingered in her mind, so she asked.
“It’s obvious, isn’t it? You must’ve noticed the secrets Leonard desperately hides. That man is a psychopath and a murderer.”
The way his palm cradled her back and the relentless precision of his spoon-feeding felt unfamiliar yet oddly tender. This side of Fertan seemed softer, more sentimental than the man she thought she knew.
Had he always been like this, and she simply hadn’t noticed? The same man who had eagerly fed her cheese sticks before now seemed equally determined to nourish her back to health.
His palpable concern for her emaciated frame left a deep impression on those around her. While Eleanor had remained confident that Fertan was alive—receiving messages through various channels to reassure herself—he couldn’t bear seeing her so thin after their long separation.
His intense focus on her well-being made her question things she had taken for granted. Why had he orchestrated this operation?
“Can I ask you something? What do you gain from postponing the crown prince’s wedding?”
She impulsively voiced the question but didn’t expect a straightforward answer from someone as secretive as Fertan.
If his future plans were deeply tied to this, it was better left unsaid. Eleanor understood that the fewer people privy to his detailed schemes, the safer they all were. Curiosity alone wasn’t reason enough to pry.
Her vague suspicion was that he aimed to sow chaos within the imperial family. Yet, recent events showed no visible signs of unrest caused by the wedding delay.
Fertan half-listened, focusing instead on feeding her. After clearing the soup bowl, he replaced it with a basket of bread. When she grimaced at the sight, he switched to a lighter salad. Her appetite had diminished so much that even the small portions overwhelmed her usual intake.
A plump strawberry hovered teasingly before her tightly closed lips as they engaged in a silent standoff.
“Eleanor...”
His tone grew stern.
“I’m full, really.”
As she tried to rise from his lap, he stubbornly pulled her back by the waist, determined to make her eat. Finally, he bit into the strawberry himself, gently prying her jaw open with his fingertips. Leaning in, he kissed her deeply, pressing their lips together.
The intensity of his gaze demanded surrender. With no room for refusal, their lips melded completely. The ripe berry crushed between them, its sweet juice flowing over their tongues and down her throat. His strong tongue guided the pulp onto hers, encircling her mouth like a prison.
Their tongues intertwined like mating snakes, exchanging saliva and sweetness. Despite the passionate kiss, every drop of nutrient-rich juice found its way down her throat. Only when she swallowed everything and their mingled saliva remained did he finally pull away.
Breathless, she savored the lingering sensation as his sigh washed over her forehead.
His piercing gaze burned into her like direct sunlight. The brief silence stretched taut with tension.
Gone was his usual slick charm; his face now bore the weight of a secret meant to be carried to the grave. Slowly, heavily, he spoke.
“I canceled the marriage... because of you.”
It was hard to believe. It sounded more like one of his jokes.
“What do you mean?”
Perhaps behind his simple reply lay layers of complexity. How could he orchestrate such an elaborate plan just for her? His life was constantly under threat.
Surely, mere affection or fond memories wouldn’t justify such sacrifice. They had met briefly in childhood, but while Fertan remembered, she recalled nothing. At the time of the late emperor’s passing, she had been only six years old.
A deep, entangled kiss sent shivers down her ears, and the strawberry juice staining the corners of her lips traced a path of richly felt emotions as Pertan's kisses continued in succession.
“I can't tell you the details. It will all come to light in the distant future.”
A deep, resonant voice, like the sound of a massive horn, reverberated from one chest to another.
It was hard to believe that this wasn’t just a mission for Pertan. Strictly speaking, the reason Eleanor had become entangled with him was because they had aligned themselves with the same faction. Realistically, she had joined with the hope of sharing in the glory if he succeeded, yet Pertan, the leader, had gone to great lengths and made sacrifices for her sake.
“Can’t you tell me now? Saying it’s because of me isn’t enough for me to understand.”
Pertan, who had been struggling to survive, was still cornered. The ambush on the bridge was part of the same context. Though the exact circumstances were unclear, the fact that he had faced a life-threatening situation meant he had no energy left to spare for Eleanor.
If he didn’t reveal anything, she wouldn’t know what he stood to gain from this marriage operation.
“I can’t figure out what benefit Pertan would gain by recruiting me, no matter how much I think about it.”
“Hmm, because you’re pretty?”
“Stop joking!”
She bit into the remaining food and panted.
“I’m not the head of the Roland family, so it’s not like he’s after the family’s power. Even if I’d be useful as an empress, I’m not the only talented noblewoman in the empire.”
Could it be that he likes me? She briefly entertained the thought but quickly dismissed it. Pertan wasn’t the type to stake everything for love.
Lost in thought, another strawberry entered her mouth.
This time, Eleanor’s frustration boiled over, and she pushed the strawberry back into his mouth.
Hearing his mischievous laughter, she was reminded that this was indeed Pertan.
He stopped insisting on feeding her and returned to the bed with her. After clearing away the clothes for two, they lay down, and his naked body pressed against Eleanor’s in a rather suggestive manner. His thick penis pressed against her slender waist. Throb, throb. The pulsation of his member was distinctly felt.
Truthfully, she had been thirsty for this. She had often imagined his bare body and even dreamed of lewd encounters to the point of waking up drenched between her legs on many mornings. Without him even instructing her, Eleanor draped one leg over his protruding hipbone.
What she needed to quench this thirst was his firm, erect manhood. Her physical instincts sought his penis, craving it to satisfy her longing.
As they lay vertically, his long shaft touched her vulva, slightly alleviating the rising heat. He rubbed the base of his cock against her moist area, letting out a guttural groan as if boiling over.
“No, not today…”
His large hand swept up from her slender waist. He felt her slightly protruding ribs and cupped her breast in his palm.
“You’ve become so weak, I’m afraid your heart might stop.”
Despite her only appearing slightly emaciated, he treated her as if she were seriously ill. According to the doctor’s advice, she had some chest pain from coughing frequently, but it wasn’t anything to worry about. Pertan must have known this too, yet he acted as if her pulse under his hand was a cause for concern.
Why was he being so kind all of a sudden? He had once insisted on serving her with his body, demanding to be made her lover.
As they pressed their bodies together in excitement, it seemed Eleanor was the only one anticipating the next step, which made her feel a bit awkward. But she couldn’t pretend to be modest now, not after what she had already done. She wrapped her legs around his sturdy lower body, rubbing her thoroughly wet entrance against his manhood.
As she gently rocked her hips from beneath, a desperate sensation surged at the point of contact. Her body yearned for just a bit more stimulation.
Her slightly cooled hand moved below the point of contact. She stroked his thigh, which felt like a moving boulder, and then caressed the deeply indented groin. When she carefully grasped his egg-shaped testicles with a feather-light touch, the beast-like hips above her twitched as if about to jump.
Even holding the twin orbs, which were too large to fit in one hand, was overwhelming as she fumbled with his penis.
The temperature at her fingertips rose rapidly. It moved like a living animal, its uneven surface shifting and the shaft wobbling.
It was like driving a massive wedge into the man’s body. Each time she touched it, it felt less like a human body part and more like a grotesque horn protruding from his muscular torso. While this monstrous member had always satisfied her, feeling it with her hands was different.
Her lewdly groping hand couldn’t fully grasp the thick shaft. Her thumb and forefinger couldn’t meet, so she held it precariously, as if it might slip away at any moment.
Even though she was already thoroughly wet, the man’s fluids continued to flow unabated.
Her hand slid along the heavy flesh.
Her thigh, draped over Pertan’s side, naturally bent in sync with her rising excitement.
Their soft skin rubbed together, narrowing the gap between their genitals.
“Haah… I’ll only give you one chance. Come inside me now.”
Even though Eleanor was the one beneath him and he could move freely, Pertan let out a pained groan as if trapped in an inescapable net.
“Eleanor, ugh…”
He brushed her bangs aside and pressed their foreheads together. It was a gesture of forcibly suppressing the immense desire to plunge into her and become one. The man, who had always been more attuned to his physical instincts than Eleanor, was exerting great effort to restrain himself, unable to bear seeing her slightly emaciated figure.
His once-handsome brow furrowed, and a light sweat broke out. The thread of reason he had left in front of the alluring Eleanor was perilously thin, as if it might snap at any moment.
“It's surprising and pleasing to see him exercising such restraint, especially when he's taking care of me. He's an interesting man.” She found Pertan's groaning quite enjoyable, but also harbored a desire for him to succumb easily to her seductive touch as she toyed with his manhood.
“Hmm, it seems you don't like it.”
The ring of her fingers encircling his penis couldn't quite pass the head. It caught on the edge of the glans. The rock-hard shaft pulsed and resisted, slipping from her grasp.
His fully erect member rested against her entrance.
Even without consciously aligning it, his instincts guided him to her opening.
He let out a deep sigh and began to subtly move his hips. His movements were primal, reminiscent of a rutting beast. The mushroom-shaped head of his penis parted and closed her entrance.
“You're trying to drive me crazy. I'm not a man of great patience, and, hss, I've reached my limit.”
The taut skin of his penis was as smooth as glass. Whether seen or touched, his well-formed member was beautiful and enticing, begging to be pushed inside.
Instead of fully penetrating, he repeatedly inserted only half of the glans, stimulating the highly sensitive area just inside her entrance with the flared edge. He scraped the nearby walls like a sharp claw, making soft, rhythmic sounds. In front of her vulva, the thickest part of his penis, the glans, stood prominently, rubbing its sharp curves against her.
Her inner walls stretched and contracted repeatedly, becoming slick. Her sensitive flesh trembled. Even with just the tip of his penis teasing her, she couldn't withstand the mounting pleasure. The sticky, parting, and rejoining of their flesh, the teasing entry that threatened to tear her open, only to withdraw carelessly. The tantalizing in-and-out motion caused her to involuntarily release a gush of fluids, reaching a quick climax.
“Hah, ah... ugh.”
Pertan gripped her neck tightly. His thick eyelashes brushed against her eyes as he brought his lips to hers in a shallow, prayer-like kiss, as if asking for forgiveness.
“I'm sorry. I know I'm going to hurt you, but... damn it.”
Suddenly, he thrust his penis deep inside her.
He dove into her wetness, scattering the fluids with a powerful surge.
He filled her, a woman who had been clenching her empty passage in desperate need, with his thick, hard shaft. This was the limit of his restraint. The wet rod, slick from her fluids, moved without hesitation. It filled her completely, striking the deep walls with painful force.
Her vulva, inside and out, tingled. The shock reverberated through her body, sending shivers through every pore and hair.
“Ugh!”
The deeply embedded penis pressed against her cervix, causing a dull ache.
His breath was rapid in her ear. Pertan wasn't out of breath from the movements, but from the strain of holding back. If he had known he would succumb so easily to Eleanor's invitation, he wouldn't have wasted his energy resisting. Now, he ground their hips together forcefully, as if the fully inserted penis wasn't enough.
“You feel so good, Eleanor, it's driving me crazy.”
The forceful thrusting sent tremors through her head. Electrical sensations coursed through her body with each movement.
“Ugh, hmm.”
The overwhelming pleasure caused her body to tense. Her fingers curled, and the soles of her feet arched. Without realizing it, she dug her nails into his broad back.
Lost in the overwhelming physical sensations, she momentarily forgot that his back injury might not be fully healed. From her perspective, he seemed to be in perfect condition.
His destructive movements, as if he were trying to reach the peak of pleasure with her, suggested he was indeed in top form.
As she dug her short nails into his back, clutching his muscular armpits, he paused for a moment, taking a deep breath. His eyes flashed.
The next moment, his hands cupped her buttocks, lifting her. He moved his hips with a frenzied, animalistic rhythm, lifting her from below while thrusting from above. Sparks flashed before her eyes. The sheen of his sweat and the surreal sensations blended into a chaotic mix.
The deeper her nail marks, the more frenzied he became. His hot breath carried the full force of his pleasure.
“Ele... ugh, I should be gentle, but my body won't listen.”
His teeth sank into her neck. He nipped at her flesh, his teeth barely breaking the skin. She moaned softly, tilting her neck to give him more access.
The thrusting continued endlessly. Her body was completely at his mercy. Pertan toyed with her dazed form.
Her mind grew hazy, blurring the line between night and day. In a brief moment of clarity, she whispered, her words slurred,
“Yes, hmm. I give you permission. Continue... you can keep going.”
Part of her was pleased that he was considerate of her condition. She noticed his eagerness to feed her, and his firmness when he said, “Not today,” despite his obvious desire.
Still, she had to test him. Was she trying to find a flaw in the perfect student, or did she want to feel his warmth even more? She thought she could find a wrong answer no matter how he behaved.
Her clever plan, conceived amidst the relentless thrusting, seemed quite plausible. After all, her body was already his. She wasn't ready to give him her heart... they weren't that kind of couple.
His eyes, filled with a decadent allure, narrowed. Her small resistance seemed to excite him.
“Is that your type? Good. I happen to be very easy on one woman.”
He teased her further, hinting at more sensual acts to come, and let out a low, suggestive chuckle.
He nudged her nose with his sharp nose, and then licked the inside of her lips, savoring the soft membranes of her mouth.
He thrust into her, relentlessly pumping, yet remained unsatisfied. He moved his hips with the ferocity of an animal in heat. Her convulsing inner walls were as hot as a furnace, and her outer flesh, constantly chafed by his coarse pubic hair and testicles, felt raw and battered. Her heart, pressed against his chest, pounded so rapidly it seemed it would stop at any moment. She reached a spine-tingling climax, only to be thrown into another wave of sensual agony.
As he pounded into her like a giant weapon hacking an enemy to pieces, Pertan gasped out disjointed words.
“I think you've broken my body.”
The head of his penis slammed against her cervix with a hard thud. A hot, stinging pressure. With each pulse, the crushed flesh ached to the point of tears.
“I ejaculate just thinking about you. My pants are soaked even in broad daylight.”
Hot fluid seeped from their tightly joined bodies. His hard shaft pulsed, releasing thick semen, filling every crevice of her inner walls with his cloudy discharge.
“I... ha, I can't control my lust.”
Pertan's cheeks, glistening with sweat, trembled with pleasure. His throat, stretched taut with his labored breathing, revealed the bobbing of his Adam's apple as he swallowed. His jaw muscles clenched, creating fine lines along his jawline. With his sharply angled chin raised, he confessed his feelings, or something close to it.
With his testicles emptied of their contents, Pertan pulled her close and rolled with her.
The spring fields brimmed with vitality under the warm breeze.
With the days growing longer, farmers worked tirelessly from dawn till dusk, their backs bent and sweat pouring down as they toiled in the fields. Perhaps because of this, it was difficult to find extra hands at the manor.
Though Eleanor could have demanded additional labor if necessary, she didn’t want to create a fuss over sprucing up a house meant only for temporary rest.
At her request, the steward managing the estate kept the staff minimal, adding just a few more workers to the existing household. Though there weren’t many servants sent from the main house, they were mindful that she would one day become crown princess and thus strove to serve her well. However, limited resources left them apologizing frequently for their perceived shortcomings whenever they encountered her.
In truth, Eleanor found the tranquil estate deeply satisfying. She wondered why she had ever bothered traveling far to distant castles for leisure when this peaceful retreat existed.
With Evelyn handling all her personal needs and Liam and Fertan solely responsible for her security, no one disturbed her quarters unless summoned. As Fertan had casually mentioned, the locals likely assumed a noblewoman like Eleanor wouldn’t mingle with rural folk and thus avoided intruding unnecessarily.
In fact, no one even noticed that Fertan shared her bed.
When she woke late after being exhausted through the night, Eleanor was startled to find Fertan gazing at her with a mischievous grin. Whether to admire his audacity for occupying the bed until morning or scold him for overstaying his welcome, she wasn’t sure.
“What are you doing here?”
The bedding brought from the main house was luxuriously soft. The long, feather-stuffed pillows seemed endless, easily accommodating both of them. Perhaps the familiar texture lulled her into complacency.
Fertan, who had insisted on using his arm as a pillow last night despite its discomfort, now held her loosely around the waist. His meticulous attention to ensuring her comfort was evident.
“Come to think of it, this is the first time we’ve slept together. Waking up next to you feels oddly refreshing... Ouch!”
Eleanor pinched his chest without hesitation. How could he joke about feeling “refreshed” in such a situation?
He gasped, quickly grabbing her hand before she could twist further. Though she hadn’t meant to, her pinch had caused his nipple to harden instantly, protruding sharply beneath his tanned skin.
“Wow, Eleanor… I’m already standing.”
Pressing his fully erect penis against her lower abdomen, Fertan seemed lost in his own world, oblivious to her discomfort.
“You need to get up. Someone will come to attend to us soon.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll behave so you won’t be embarrassed.”
Still, despite his arousal, he refrained from acting on it. Instead, he gently pulled her back down as she tried to rise, soothing her with murmured reassurances until her anxious muttering subsided.
His long black lashes fluttered lazily above flushed cheeks. Though rested, his expression remained languid, like drifting dust particles suspended in the air.
Staring at his flawless features, Eleanor unconsciously let out a soft sigh of admiration. The unexpected calm of the moment loosened her usually guarded demeanor. A faint smile graced his sculpted face before fading into neutrality once more.
Perhaps indulging in this lazy embrace wasn’t so bad after all.
Suddenly, she wondered if Fertan had encountered any trouble on his way here. Though he often appeared carefree and made everything seem effortless, she knew he had endured countless hardships.
A man who shrugged off injuries severe enough to strip flesh from bone—how grueling must his life have been? With assassins sent by the emperor regularly, she couldn’t begin to imagine the relentless strain he endured. Having faced such trials since boyhood, he was undoubtedly a veteran of survival.
Moreover, he had somehow gathered loyalists of the late emperor to support him covertly.
Once, he had casually remarked that he’d merely been surviving, but those words lingered in her mind. They carried weight, hinting at regrets too profound to articulate during intimate moments.
It was hard to believe he had emerged unscathed while hiding here under the guise of death. Though he brushed off her concerns lightly, she couldn’t dismiss them so easily.
“Fertan, may I check your body for injuries myself?”
With feigned nonchalance, he exposed himself.
“I told you, I’m fine. Do you really think I’d pull the same trick as during the carriage accident?”
True, he had spent most of the night engrossed in passionate lovemaking, rocking the bed violently enough to suggest no new injuries. Still, she pretended indifference as she ran her hands over him. His shoulders and arms were intact, and his chiseled abs bore no scars.
“Hmm, you seem okay so far.”
Encouraged, she lifted the blanket to inspect him thoroughly. On his back, faint traces of old wounds remained, particularly near his shoulder where the deepest injury had left a lasting scar.
Thankfully, he hadn’t sustained any new injuries. Thinking about how her heart might have clenched each time he faced danger if she’d known him earlier filled her with an odd mix of relief and unease.
Every time her hands explored his skin, he leaned into her touch like an eager pet seeking affection.
“Are you done checking? This actually feels pretty good.”
“What’s so great about it?”
“I have someone taking care of me. Someone running their hands all over me.”
“You’re impossible…”
She hesitated, wanting to ask how harsh his life had been but stopping herself. His intentions became clear as he emphasized his nakedness, pressing his hardened length against her teasingly.
Rather than hearing a straightforward account, Eleanor decided it was better to judge based on what she observed and felt. Lowering her expectations, she posed her question casually.
“So, Fertan, can you explain what exactly happened?”
After indulging in physical affection, he suddenly reached for the water bottle on the bedside table. Pouring a glass for her and one for himself, he took a sip, then complained about how stale the water tasted after sitting overnight.
After distracting himself with every possible excuse, he finally shrugged when her icy glare persisted, demanding an answer.
“There was a meeting in the red-light district. Just as the emperor and Leonard have their dirty hands, I also have capable people at my disposal. It was an important rendezvous with them. Even though I knew Leonard—that rotten crown prince—might send someone, I had no choice but to proceed.”
“So, you anticipated encountering the assassin.”
“Well...”
His slow blinks finally chased away the remnants of sleep. With an air of complete nonchalance, he recounted his life-and-death experience as if it were nothing.
“First off, my intelligence network is superior. But mercenaries skilled enough to be hired as assassins are common, so it’s impossible to track them all. The key was knowing beforehand that danger would come.”
“...Go on.”
“Do I really have to keep talking?”
“I’m listening.”
He wrinkled his nose slightly, clearly annoyed, before sighing deeply and reluctantly continuing.
“I noticed the assassin's presence the moment I left the tavern. Pretending to be drunk, I gauged whether he was stronger than me... Convinced I could overpower him one-on-one, I went up onto the bridge alone. Happy now?”
“No, tell me more.”
“My intel is expensive. Worth far more than the people I have stationed at Bluewing Hotel.”
Eleanor pressed a quick kiss to his pouting lips as payment for his information.
“It’s not so bad having someone to confide in, is it?”
Fertan stared at her blankly for a moment before stretching his full lips into a wide grin. His nodding affirmation felt somewhat burdensome. Since it was rare for Eleanor to initiate kisses without his pestering, he interpreted it as a significant debt being repaid and launched into a detailed explanation.
“The assassin wielded a dagger skillfully. I dodged his strikes and countered. He was persistent—not content to attack and retreat but instead engaged in close combat.”
“...And?”
“In the end, we both fell into the river. We fought fiercely underwater, and I managed to stab him in a vital spot with my sword. But the current swept us far downstream.”
“That must have been perilous.”
“After climbing back onto the bank, I didn’t return to the mansion. Instead, I stayed at a safe house. It occurred to me that this was a golden opportunity to escape the constant surveillance that comes with being a grand duke. Though unintentional, once presumed dead, there was no immediate need to correct that assumption. Hence, I ended up appearing before you like a ghost.”
As expected, Fertan was no ordinary man. Despite the risks of losing his wealth and followers by being declared dead, he calculated the potential benefits. Yet, there was no trace of anxiety or impatience in his demeanor.
He likely maintained contact with essential allies. Just as he secretly revealed his survival to Eleanor, he probably discreetly communicated with them. If so, he could make excellent use of the newfound freedom this situation afforded.
Though she didn’t want to appear overly cold while sharing such intimacy, Eleanor couldn’t help but assess external matters rationally. In terms of social control and military power, the emperor undeniably held the upper hand.
Still, Eleanor supported Fertan because of his resilience and adaptability.
He possessed an incredibly flexible mind and demonstrated swift action—a general-like figure who might have driven chariots into battlefields in ancient times. Unlike modern nobles who danced in velvet jackets and high heels, he stood apart, sparking curiosity about what kind of future he might create if he ascended the throne.
For some reason today, Fertan freely divulged details she had long wondered about. If he was willing to speak openly, there was much she wanted to ask.
Glancing at him cautiously, she noticed his eyes were still languidly unfocused, absorbed only in caressing her bare side.
This was the perfect chance. What should she ask first?
Going all the way back to the beginning, their encounters at court banquets had been shrouded in mystery. She had repeatedly asked why he infiltrated the imperial treasury but never received an answer.
And then… what else was it she desperately wanted to know?
“Fertan, you said postponing the crown prince’s wedding was because of me, right?”
She posed the question with a composed expression, deliberately keeping her tone measured as if discussing business.
“Why do you keep avoiding the answer? I really want to understand what you meant.”
But inside, her heart raced. Until recently, she had firmly believed Fertan wasn’t the type to obsess over romance. Yet, seeing him here now stirred something unsettling within her.
Though he rarely acted serious, perhaps this behavior masked genuine feelings—an idea reminiscent of a melodramatic one-act play from the street vendors’ stalls downtown. Her thoughts kept drifting toward romantic notions, even as she tried to dismiss them with a shake of her head.
The space between them seemed frozen. Eleanor struggled to calm her wildly pounding heart, while Fertan remained still, like a radiant statue bathed in light.
Finally, his lips parted ever so slightly.
“How do you want me to answer?”
His evasive response immediately raised suspicions. She sensed trouble brewing from the start.
Fertan interlaced his fingers with hers, pulling her hand toward him. Mimicking the earnest gaze of lovers pledging eternity, he crafted an air of sincerity—though she recognized it as nothing more than a performance. The subtle wrinkle of his nose gave him away instantly.
“I love you, Eleanor. I’ve loved you long before you ever spared me a glance. That’s why I orchestrated all of this.”
“That’s… a lie!”
“I hoped you’d feel at least a flicker of excitement… but I guess it was too much to ask.”
“You’re incorrigible! Truly the worst kind of devil, Fertan.”
The absurdity of his exaggerated acting was laughable. He deliberately delivered his lines with clumsy theatrics, making it painfully obvious they were false. How could she believe him? Just yesterday, he had feigned kindness, only to reveal his mischievous true colors again today.
Yet, that fleeting moment of silence when she awaited his answer felt undeniably genuine. A small part of her had secretly hoped for something heartwarming.
But Fertan clearly decided after brief deliberation not to bare his soul. Whatever kept him from being honest remained shrouded in mystery. Nearly everything about him was veiled, and topics directly tied to treason were too sensitive to broach carelessly.
“Still, my desire for you to become my empress is sincere. Think seriously about my proposal—I truly hope for a positive answer.”
Eleanor understood what he meant, but the position of empress had little to do with Fertan’s emotions. It was akin to appointing a chief steward—a practical decision rather than an emotional one.
She vaguely examined her own heart, trying to understand why she sought clarity on his feelings. Perhaps it was because she wanted to hear a specific response—a playful confession that might actually be real. And though reluctant to admit it, various aspects of Fertan’s chaotic yet surprisingly appealing personality lingered stubbornly in her mind.
As she pressed him again, half-insisting, a faint sting began forming in her chest.
“So, what was the purpose of this operation? I played an important role, so I deserve to know.”
“…”
“You won’t tell me? Am I just a pawn on your chessboard?”
He propped himself up on one elbow, his languid demeanor replaced by something sharper.
The intensity radiating from above felt far stronger than when their faces were half-buried in the same pillow. Under his unwavering gaze, Eleanor felt as if her innermost thoughts were being laid bare against her will.
Adjusting his posture, he adopted an uncharacteristic seriousness, tightening his jaw. With deliberate care, he brushed stray strands of hair behind her ear, tucking them neatly into place.
The prolonged silence that followed felt awkward compared to earlier.
It was as though they were trapped together in a deep well, illuminated solely by a spotlight in an enclosed space, intently exploring each other.
This time, too, he’ll overact, she thought. Don’t get your hopes up. Don’t set yourself up for disappointment.
“I wouldn’t use you like that.”
“…”
“My feelings toward you have changed significantly since I first brought you into this plan.”
It was hard to comprehend. Did he mean his initial approach stemmed from different emotions?
“Setting aside everything else, let me describe how I see you now.”
His thick, handsome lips moved like a mirage.
“Would you believe me if I said it’s not love—but merely a good feeling?”
Was this a demand to trust him blindly, or did these words genuinely come from his heart? Confused by the ambiguity, she couldn’t fully accept his confession, unsure still of who Fertan truly was.
“If I told you I want no woman but you as my wife… Though I’m not the sort to sacrifice everything for love, in my precarious situation, I don’t want to lose you… What would you think?”
Her eyes widened gradually.
“After feeding you medicine that made you ill instead of offering precious elixirs, isn’t it shameless of me to harbor such desires for you?”
“Fertan, wait. Are you saying—”
“A slight fondness is better, don’t you think? Let’s keep things light and unburdened.”
Without waiting for her reaction, Fertan swiftly wrapped up the conversation, flashing a lighthearted smile as if nothing significant had transpired.
He bit his lower lip gently, perhaps regretting his earlier words—or perhaps simply adding another layer of allure to his already devastating charm.
“But why haven’t you complained about hunger? You seem far too indifferent to food, Eleanor.”
With practiced nonchalance, he tugged the cord beside the bed to summon a servant.
Further questioning seemed futile. The window of truth had closed.
A pang of guilt nudged her conscience. She realized she had pushed him too hard, prying into areas best left untouched. His reasons for the operation remained elusive, but she suspected she had prodded at vulnerabilities he preferred to conceal.
As a man, a grand duke, and the leader of a faction, Fertan likely didn’t wish to appear weak. To her, he embodied strength and resilience, but if his feelings differed, she owed him respect.
Perhaps due to the house’s small size, the sound of approaching maids soon reached them outside the bedroom door.
Startled by their knock, Eleanor hesitated. Given the timing, it was believable that someone might have been waiting just beyond the door back at the main estate. But here, in this modest two-story building barely qualifying as a mansion, such proximity felt oddly conspicuous.
Only after granting permission would the maid dare to enter, but they couldn’t afford to waste time in their current state. Eleanor needed to somehow get rid of Fertan quickly.
No matter how well he disguised himself as a guard, having a man in a noblewoman’s bedroom in the morning was bound to invite gossip—unless there were unavoidable circumstances.
“What should we do? I need to find somewhere for you to hide.”
Whispering hurriedly so their voices wouldn’t carry outside, Eleanor tried to rise, but Fertan pressed firmly on her shoulder to stop her.
“Just stay put. I’ll handle it.”
His confident smirk was unmistakably the Fertan she knew all too well.
What was he planning now? She lay back on the bed, her eyes darting around the room in search of a place where an adult man could possibly conceal himself.
But Fertan moved with deceptive speed, slipping out of bed and pulling on his clothes in an instant. After helping Eleanor adjust her attire, he gave a half-kneeling bow, the kind a guard might offer his master.
“Then, until later—”
In the blink of an eye, he leapt out the window, vanishing like a spring recoiling into the distance.
Had he grabbed the windowsill and climbed down? Or jumped to a nearby tree? Eleanor, startled, hadn’t caught the details of his movements.
Unable to remain still, she scrambled to the window and peered out.
Across the patchy grass of the yard, she spotted Fertan walking briskly. He raised a hand halfway toward her window in acknowledgment before disappearing back inside through the main entrance.
“Honestly… what am I going to do with Fertan?”
If he were a child, she might scold him for being mischievous. But disciplining a grown man felt utterly inappropriate.
---
It was two days later when Edwin, Duke of Roland, visited the secluded estate.
Accompanied by three cargo carriages laden with supplies for Eleanor and even his wife Adel, the visit was grand enough to make an impression. Adel busied herself inspecting the kitchen and dining areas, making finicky demands that left the humble old steward flustered. Edwin, meanwhile, criticized the house for being too shabby and lamented the lack of decorum.
The entire day was spent stirring up the household, leaving the servants visibly tense. Still, Eleanor benefited from her brother and sister-in-law’s efforts. That very day, worn-out carpets and curtains were replaced with new ones, and the dining table became far more abundant thanks to ingredients brought from the main house.
When Edwin entered Eleanor’s bedroom, he surveyed the space diligently, searching for anything that might aid her recovery. She feigned weakness, sitting quietly as he examined everything.
“If you need anything, contact me anytime.”
The items unloaded from the carriages were stacked high in one corner of the room. Though Edwin’s words weren’t entirely misplaced—maintaining a luxurious city lifestyle here required much more—it wasn’t as if Eleanor intended to indulge extravagantly during her convalescence.
“I’m just here to rest. Once I feel better, I’ll probably take short walks nearby. A few simple outfits will suffice.”
“Hmm, I’ll send more comfortable dresses.”
“Thank you, Brother. And wide-brimmed hats, too.”
Her mention of walking attire was meant to cover another purpose.
Among the newly arrived luggage were valuable items. On the day Eleanor first came, she had been informed there was no built-in safe in this house, so she left behind the jewelry box she had pre-selected. Leaving expensive gems unprotected in drawers was unthinkable.
Edwin, ever mindful of appearances, had hastily arranged for a portable safe. He couldn’t bear the thought of his sister, soon-to-be crown princess, wandering around without even a hairpin.
Eleanor glanced indifferently at the sturdy iron safe placed in the corner of the room, confident that the signet ring double-wrapped inside the jewelry box was safely stored.
Edwin wasn’t the type to rummage through women’s accessory cases, and he was too preoccupied with ensuring Eleanor recovered enough to return to the palace. In his worldview, even during convalescence, precious metals were essential. He assumed she’d wear brooches while strolling the countryside paths to maintain the dignity befitting a duchess’s daughter.
Glancing at her still-pale complexion, Edwin remarked, “How are you feeling? From the looks of it, your condition seems about the same here as it was at home.”
“It’s only been two days. But the fresh air has certainly lifted my spirits.”
He nodded hesitantly, finding some truth in her words.
Back at the main house, Edwin rarely entered Eleanor’s bedroom. Even when she fell ill with pneumonia and he rushed over, it was one of the first times in years he’d stepped foot in her room.
Perhaps that’s why his bustling inspection of her temporary quarters, though appreciated, made Eleanor uncomfortable.
Sensing the awkwardness, Edwin muttered random thoughts aloud.
“Taking care of your surroundings like this brings back memories. When I served as a page to the late emperor, I used to oversee his private moments in much the same way.”
In his early twenties, Edwin had been a personal attendant to the late emperor—not a particularly significant role but rather one involving minor errands, fetching things or relaying messages as needed.
For young noblemen, serving as a page was often a chance to gain favor and visibility within the imperial court.
“I don’t remember much from those days… but yes, you were a page once, weren’t you, Brother?”
Over several years, he managed the private areas of the emperor’s palace. Then, after the sudden illness and death of the emperor, he resigned from his post.
Not long after, their father passed away, and Edwin inherited the title of duke—a rare occurrence for someone in their twenties. Coincidentally, circumstances aligned in such a way.
Moreover, Edwin maintained strong ties to the imperial core. Having served as a page during the late emperor’s reign, he later became an active member of the institutional council under the current emperor.
Initially, some opposed his participation in major state decisions, arguing he was too young. However, his political leanings aligned closely with the emperor’s, earning him favor. Soon after, he secured a seat among the roughly ten members of the highest council.
Considering his political success and the impending elevation of their family as in-laws to the crown prince, Edwin could indeed be seen as an extraordinary figure.
Seizing the opportunity brought on by this nostalgic trip down memory lane, Eleanor cautiously broached a question that had lingered in her mind for some time.
“Brother, I’ve heard there were suspicions of foul play surrounding the late emperor’s death. You must have been questioned extensively back then.”
Though belated, chances to discuss such past matters with Edwin were rare. When she had first entered high society, serious topics were avoided, and by the time she matured enough to engage in deeper conversations, their age gap made casual exchanges infrequent.
“Questioned? Ah, yes…”
To her surprise, Edwin visibly flustered at the mention.
“Mm, I was questioned. But it all resolved smoothly since I was innocent. I was released quickly.”
“That’s good. How did you prove your innocence?”
Edwin glossed over the details, offering only vague explanations.
“Well… I just gave a detailed account. About what happened on the days I served.”
“I’m curious. Tell me more.”
His face hardened as he cut her off abruptly.
“It’s not something you need to know.”
His overly stern tone startled her, raising suspicions. There was clearly something he didn’t want to divulge.
Eleanor had long harbored questions about Edwin’s time as a page. However, she had refrained from prying for a reason.
Their father had been a trusted servant of the late emperor, placing Edwin in the inner circle as a personal attendant. Families with similar political leanings were often marginalized after the current emperor ascended the throne.
Yet, House Roland stood apart. Edwin claimed his allegiance shifted after inheriting the title, but something about it felt off.
Caught off guard by her sudden question, Edwin fumbled, repeating only that he had been unharmed. Though Eleanor feigned casual curiosity, pretending her inquiry was idle chatter, her doubts grew.
“Eleanor, I’ve disturbed your rest for too long.”
If likening him to an animal fleeing with its tail between its legs felt harsh, perhaps she was being too critical of her brother.
“It’s fine. Stay a little longer. So, how did the questioning go? It’s fascinating to hear about such a legendary event firsthand.”
She carefully masked her probing tone. Resting her elbow on the armrest of her chair with a bored expression, she added nonchalantly, as if gossiping, “Whether I hear it or not doesn’t matter much.”
“This is a matter that requires strict confidentiality.”
“But it’s been over ten years, and it’s just between us…”
“The fewer people who know, the better. I should take my leave now.”
Edwin’s practiced response and smooth exit revealed his seasoned composure. Though momentarily rattled, he had swiftly regained his calm.
On the other hand, Eleanor had always played the role of the indifferent noblewoman, unsure how he might react. She maintained the pretense that her follow-up questions were merely responses to his initial mention of the topic. Whether this approach would work remained uncertain.
Her suspicion that Edwin might not be as virtuous as he seemed had grown over time. Encounters with Fertan and minor conflicts with Edwin had sharpened her awareness of inconsistencies.
Still, he was her older brother. He had spared no expense in providing her with the finest tutors and grooming her appearance.
Ironically, it was Edwin’s own efforts in her education that planted these dual impressions of him. The scholar he hired as her private tutor was upright and honest, recounting facts about the late emperor’s death without bias.
Thus, gratitude for her upbringing coexisted uneasily with a growing sense of alienation. This unexpected conversation only deepened her unease.
As Edwin prepared to leave the modest estate, he remarked briskly, as if ticking off tasks.
“Eleanor, I’ll arrange for your personal physician to stay here for a while. You must recover soon.”
“Thank you, Brother.”
Though polite, her thoughts weren’t naive. She couldn’t help but see through Edwin’s lavish support—it wasn’t solely for her benefit.
She knew his efforts served a purpose. Her role was instrumental in his path forward.
Edwin, now leading the prestigious House Roland, wielded immense authority within the empire and faced a seemingly obstacle-free future. Though concerned about her lung condition, he firmly believed her naturally robust constitution would ensure a swift recovery.
After seeing him off to the garden, Eleanor couldn’t shake her lingering doubts. The more she thought about it, the stronger the scent of suspicion grew.
Amidst the foggy uncertainties, her mind felt increasingly tangled. Yet, she sensed she had uncovered an important clue.
Logically, House Roland should have aligned with the late emperor’s faction, relegated to obscurity like others who opposed the current regime.
But had Edwin’s prowess alone propelled them this far?
Not as part of the late emperor’s faction, but as the leading household of the current emperor’s supporters?
Everyone knew switching factions was incredibly difficult—nearly impossible. Could Edwin truly have achieved this feat single-handedly?
Though her blood brother, she found it hard to rate him so highly.
The suspicion that the late emperor had been assassinated spread like wildfire at the time, or so Eleanor had heard. However, as the current Emperor Maximillian ascended the throne and the political climate shifted, discussions about the matter were deliberately suppressed. The truth was buried without resolution, leaving only lingering doubts in its wake.
In this process of imperial succession, another critical point stood out. Despite Maximillian being the late emperor’s younger brother, Fertan’s position in the line of succession had been higher.
Even considering Fertan’s youth at the time, logic dictated that he should have ascended the throne while Maximillian served as regent until the young emperor came of age. By all rights, Maximillian’s rise to power could be considered an act of usurpation. Yet, amidst ominous rumors of neighboring hostile nations preparing for war, the immediate need for a capable commander led to Maximillian taking the throne instead of the youthful Fertan.
Thankfully, no war broke out. But as Maximillian consolidated his rule through repeated displays of generosity and public favor, the window for challenging his legitimacy quietly slipped away.
Eleanor couldn’t help but dwell on these historical intricacies. Her thoughts swirled around the tangled web of politics, ambition, and survival that defined their world. Edwin’s evasive responses earlier only deepened her unease, planting seeds of doubt about his role—or perhaps complicity—in these events.
If House Roland had aligned itself with the late emperor’s faction, they should have been marginalized under Maximillian’s reign. Instead, Edwin had risen to prominence within the new regime, wielding influence that seemed almost too convenient to be coincidental.
Could it be that Edwin had played both sides? That he navigated the treacherous waters of succession by aligning with Maximillian rather than supporting Fertan’s rightful claim?
Her mind returned to the man who now shared her bed and whispered secrets into her ear—Fertan. His presence here, alive and plotting, hinted at layers of betrayal and resilience far deeper than she had imagined. Was his survival merely a stroke of luck, or part of a calculated gamble to reclaim what was stolen from him?
As much as she admired Edwin’s political acumen, she couldn’t ignore the gnawing sense that his success wasn’t entirely built on merit or loyalty. Perhaps he had sacrificed principles—or people—to secure their family’s future.
For now, Eleanor resolved to tread carefully. She would observe, gather information, and piece together the fragments of truth hidden beneath the surface. In a world where alliances shifted like sand and power was a fragile illusion, knowing too little—or too much—could prove dangerous.
And yet, amid the uncertainty, one thing was clear: the past wasn’t as buried as everyone wanted it to be.
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