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She couldn’t recall a time when life had been this peaceful.
Beyond the wide-open gate, the wheat fields shimmered with new sprouts, and the gentle haze of spring danced over the landscape. Eleanor found it hard to believe she was dozing off under the shade of her wide-brimmed hat and veil, protected from the sun.
The taut tension of city life felt like a distant memory compared to the drowsy languor of rural days.
Late in the morning, Liam and Fertan appeared before her, posing as guards of equal rank. They greeted her formally, though Eleanor knew they sparred every dawn—a detail she only heard about secondhand, unable to observe directly without arousing suspicion.
Fertan, his shirt soaked with sweat and clinging to his chest, exuded an intoxicating male pheromone. His handsome face gleamed with a polished sheen, almost too radiant for someone pretending to be just another guard.
“My deepest apologies for appearing so late, my lady.”
During Edwin’s visit, Fertan had vanished entirely, making this their first meeting in days. Still, his overly polite demeanor struck her as amusingly out of character.
“It’s been quite a while since we last met, Petric. And you too, Liam.”
Eleanor replied with playful sarcasm, layering her words with double meaning. She had spent days worrying whether anyone among Edwin’s entourage might mention the mysterious new guard but had kept her composure until now.
She had set up a tea table beneath the shade of a tree in the garden, enjoying the dappled sunlight filtering through the rustling leaves. The soft breeze fluttered her skirt, sending refreshing currents brushing against her ankles.
Standing before her with the formal posture of a dutiful guard, Fertan concealed his usual slick charm. He could sense footsteps approaching from the nearby hall, growing closer by the moment. Adopting the stiff, respectful tone of a textbook soldier, he addressed her with utmost deference.
“I’ve thoroughly inspected the security inside and outside the estate. If you ever wish to go out, please inform me in advance.”
Just then, the source of the footsteps appeared at the entrance: Evelyn, carrying a tray laden with drinks and snacks. True to her diligent nature, the maid hadn’t delegated the task to a servant but carried the heavy tray herself.
After glancing around to ensure no one else was nearby, Eleanor shifted her tone when addressing Fertan.
“Being cooped up indoors is suffocating, but I think it’s better to wait a few more days before venturing out for some fresh air.”
The bright weather called for both cool lemonade and warm tea. The table quickly filled with an array of refreshments.
Since cold beverages weren’t ideal for patients, Evelyn began by brewing tea, while also pouring lemonade into a large glass. The spread included items meant for show as well as those Eleanor would actually eat.
Eleanor half-heartedly waved off Evelyn’s offer of cheesecake, not reaching for her fork.
“Percy, why don’t you sit down? The weather’s lovely.”
She gestured toward the empty seat at the table. Even if other servants saw, it was perfectly acceptable for a noblewoman to invite a trusted retainer to join her. Maintaining the outward appearance of a respectful guard, Fertan leaned back casually in the chair opposite her, resting his arm on the armrest as though taking a break after rigorous training.
After a brief pause admiring the rippling grass stirred by the cool breeze, Fertan finally spoke.
“My informant sent word—they successfully eliminated the person tailing you.”
“Tailing me? That must be Leonard’s doing, right?”
Deep down, she wasn’t surprised. No one else but Leonard would have placed someone to shadow her. Fertan shrugged nonchalantly, confirming her suspicions.
“Leonard will likely try to recruit someone else. He knows you visited the Bluewing Hotel and probably imagines you met a man there.”
“Were we discovered?”
“They only followed you to the hotel. Your supposed affection for me hasn’t been revealed, so there’s no need to worry too much.”
His calm delivery of such absurd nonsense almost made her overlook it. Remaining silent might have implied agreement, so she quickly interjected.
“I don’t have any affection for you!”
Her stern denial, delivered with mock seriousness, struck her as faintly ridiculous. It felt like the awkward banter of newly minted lovers testing each other’s feelings.
Evelyn, overhearing their exchange, flushed crimson, clearly imagining things that made Eleanor’s neck burn with embarrassment.
To mix flirtatious wordplay while discussing life-and-death matters—this was either an incredible talent or sheer audacity.
Fertan, utterly unfazed, gulped down his lemonade with refreshing ease.
“In any case, I plan to send one of my people disguised as Leonard’s spy. A double-agent operation is risky, but the end is near, so we must remain vigilant about security.”
Liam looked mortified, realizing his earlier oversight.
“You were being tracked when you visited the hotel? I can’t believe I didn’t notice… This could have been disastrous.”
“From now on, stay sharp. With our limited manpower, everyone needs to perform their roles flawlessly.”
“I understand. My apologies.”
Fertan ended the discussion without further reprimand. The meeting had served its purpose—to subtly remind Liam of his responsibilities.
Once Evelyn and Liam had withdrawn, the scene shifted to one of tranquil leisure: a noblewoman relaxing under the shade, attended by her devoted guard.
He pulled over the untouched plate of cheesecake, cutting a bite-sized piece and turning the fork toward Eleanor. When she hesitated, uninterested in sweets, he made a soft sucking sound, leaving her no choice but to accept.
It always came down to these food-related skirmishes.
When cream clung to the corner of her mouth, he swiftly grabbed a napkin before she could wipe it away. By now, this pattern had become almost routine. Though her weight loss wasn’t entirely his fault, Fertan seemed to feel responsible, stubbornly feeding her three more bites of cake despite her protests.
Finally shielding her mouth to signal she’d had enough, Eleanor changed the subject.
“Fertan, do you think you can stay here without being discovered? I’m constantly worried.”
“Being presumed dead has its perks. The emperor seems to have completely stopped paying attention to me. The closure of my estate must’ve had a psychological impact.”
“Well, I was certainly shocked too. But you’ve suffered losses as well, haven’t you?”
“Not really… I’d already siphoned off most of my assets, and the plan was always to act before the mansion was confiscated.”
The difference between her cautious speculation and his definitive statements hit Eleanor hard. It felt like the coup—the uprising—was finally within reach. Removing the current emperor and placing Fertan on the throne meant treason, rebellion. This terrifying upheaval would rest in their hands.
Eleanor’s awareness of her role at the center of this anti-establishment movement deepened. Cold sweat trickled down her palms.
“Can you tell me when the coup will take place?”
She hesitated, asking cautiously in a trembling voice. Perhaps Fertan had only discussed the date with one or two of his most trusted confidants—or maybe not even that.
“You pressed me so hard for more delicate secrets it nearly choked me, yet now you’re being careful about something we’ll eventually share anyway.”
“Was that… what it was?”
Eleanor felt a strange mix of emotions. Thinking back to how he had clammed up about the purpose behind delaying her wedding to the crown prince, she wondered if that secret had been greater than the timing of the coup itself.
The small garden was empty save for the two of them. Still, wary of eavesdroppers, she leaned closer, lowering her voice to a whisper.
“When will that day be?”
He blinked his dark, sharp eyes as if straining to hear.
“It’s hard to catch from so far away. Can you come closer?”
She moved to sit beside him on the adjacent chair, bringing her lips close to his ear, careful to modulate her voice.
“So… when is it?”
“Hmm? Say it again.”
What? He clearly heard but was pretending otherwise, tilting his head toward her mischievously, urging her to repeat herself. His sudden shift from seriousness to playful teasing left her exasperated.
Apparently enjoying the feel of her breath against his ear, his lips stretched into a smug grin. Irritating man.
“Fertan, honestly…”
Pretending to gently stroke his earlobe, she suddenly yanked it hard.
He laughed freely, unfazed by the pain. Every time they met, he seemed determined to rile her up just for fun. When he reached out to touch her glaring eyes, she quickly turned her head away.
His laughter bubbled louder, uncontainable.
“Alright, alright. I’ll tell you.”
Fertan lifted her veil slightly and leaned in, brushing his lips against her ear. His whisper was both seductive and secretive.
“The date isn’t set yet, but roughly after you return to your main house.”
“Why then?”
It didn’t feel coincidental—he had specifically mentioned her.
“First, we need to ensure Count Ginédien’s safety.”
“The Minister of War, right? I heard he’s currently deployed.”
“Despite his age, he personally took command to suppress the Tordun rebellion. It’s all part of the emperor’s scheme. The count is one of my key allies, so his security is crucial. He needs to remain safe within the military during the mission and return unharmed afterward. Only then can I justify making my move.”
“But isn’t he leading the army? Surely there’s no reason for concern.”
“Still, it’s the emperor’s army. One wrong move, and the count could easily be purged. If he finds himself in trouble within that closed-off military structure, I won’t be able to protect him.”
His reasoning made sense. From the news Eleanor regularly read, the Tordun rebellion was being suppressed systematically. Victory celebrations and parades were anticipated.
“After sending the count off with the suppression forces, you must be worried sick. Will he return safely?”
“There’s nothing I can do from afar, so I’m just biting my nails.”
From what Eleanor knew, Count Ginédien was a formidable commander. Yet, according to Fertan, his position seemed precarious.
Calculating the timeline, it seemed the count would return before Eleanor fully recovered and went back to her main house. Amidst the jubilant atmosphere, the palace gates would open wide, creating an opportunity for Fertan to strike.
“So, right after the count returns—”
“No, I said it aligns with your return.”
Eleanor tilted her head quizzically. Her schedule and the count’s return seemed unrelated. Why emphasize her presence?
“Is there something specific I need to do?”
“Something like that. When I claim the throne, I want you there with me.”
“Because of personal desire?”
It sounded like pure selfishness—a possessive wish to keep her by his side.
She couldn’t tell if she should take his answer at face value. Fertan had dodged questions countless times before; perhaps this was another convenient excuse.
Just then, he stood abruptly, brushing off his clothes, signaling it was time to head inside. Suspicion flared—was this another evasive maneuver? They had basked in the breeze long enough under the tree, though patches of sunlight filtered through the canopy. He shielded her head with his hand, casting a shadow over her.
Leaning down to check her expression, his voice carried a sweetness that might easily be mistaken for possessive affection.
“If you call it greed, then yes, it’s greed. You must stand by my side as one of my closest allies on that day.”
Eleanor fixed her gaze on him, the proximity making his features blur slightly.
“Does Count Ginédien also know the timing is set for then?”
“I’ve given him a rough outline. But I haven’t told anyone about your involvement.”
Fertan, who had walked ahead, turned back with his sharply defined shoulders catching the light. With no choice, Eleanor followed suit and stood up.
As they passed through the quiet hall and ascended to the bedroom, none of the estate’s servants were in sight. According to Evelyn, everyone was busy preparing the excessive amount of ingredients Edwin had left behind. Though there were only a few people to feed, including Eleanor, the sheer volume of perishable goods required them to make long-term storage foods like canned goods and smoked meats. The air was thick with the smells of boiling and roasting.
While moving locations, Eleanor’s thoughts churned.
Was it really just because he wanted her close? Was he adjusting the date of the coup solely so she could stand beside him as a trusted ally? Had Fertan always felt this strongly about her? Even if he did, would he truly yearn for the scene of her standing before him as an empress while he sat on the throne?
She wasn’t sure. From what she knew of Fertan, he was a man who didn’t care about others’ opinions when pursuing his goals. Shouldn’t he choose the most strategically optimal date regardless?
“Fertan, do you realize how secretive you’re being right now? Is there really no other reason?”
She closed the door behind them and stopped him by gripping his elbow firmly.
The subtle suspicion blooming in her heart—she hoped it was just needless worry. If he genuinely cared for her, if their shared journey would lead to a future where they leaned on each other as emperor and empress… dreaming of such an ideal future felt like the ultimate wish.
Tilting her chin up, she looked directly into his eyes, holding onto his thick arm to ensure he couldn’t evade her.
His elongated, dark eyes were shadowed, appearing even deeper after stepping indoors from the bright sunlight. The whites of his eyes glimmered unnervingly, creating a stark contrast.
Trapped, he met her unwavering gaze. Through their entangled stares, a flicker of unspoken emotion escaped—intimacy that his finely sculpted features and feigned calm couldn’t fully conceal.
Finally, Fertan sighed deeply.
“It’s better to endure hardships briefly rather than prolong them.”
Instead of resisting her grip, he pulled her closer into an embrace. Cupping her stubbornly raised chin, he kissed her softly, coaxing her tense demeanor to relax. His lips melded with hers at an angle, tender yet insistent, as though kneading her inner membranes until they glistened with his saliva.
Sucking gently on her lips, tasting her essence, he drew her in again, deepening the kiss.
“And when the time comes, I want you to face adversity only briefly, like a fleeting storm. I’ll be the one to shape you into that person.”
Pausing momentarily, he rattled off his words dismissively, as if brushing away useless dust. Preferring kisses over tedious explanations, he peppered her lips with quick pecks.
Rather than feeling shocked, Eleanor found herself unsurprised. No stroke of luck had occurred; everything unfolded exactly as she’d suspected.
Pushing him back lightly, she pressed her finger against his persistently advancing lips.
“Fertan, I’m not a fragile person. Whatever you’re hiding, don’t treat me like some delicate flower in a greenhouse.”
“This straightforwardness of yours is another thing I adore.”
“Your compliments are appreciated, and I enjoy the sense of care. But what makes you so certain I won’t overcome whatever it is?”
“You’ll handle it well. As I said—it’s just… I’m greedy.”
“So, something bad is coming. Prepare me by telling me the truth. You revealed the coup’s timing without hesitation, but why keep secrets about matters concerning me?”
Fertan tightened his hold around her waist and lifted her high into the air. Her tiptoed heels brushed against his knee, and her forehead rose to meet his intense gaze.
Looking up at her, his presence seemed brighter, more radiant, than when he towered over her due to their height difference.
“Just wait a little longer… Things are perfect between us now. Let’s savor this moment a bit more before I confess.”
His pleading tone froze her tongue more effectively than his evasive words.
Confusion swirled within her. Perhaps dazzled by his charm, she began to wonder if he had hidden or plotted far more for her sake than she realized.
Only days ago, he had blatantly put on a cheap act, declaring his love. Could that ambiguous gesture have been a genuine confession? Even to herself, the thought felt absurd.
Perhaps her heart had already tilted toward him, despite her unspoken reservations.
There was a time—not long ago—when she saw Fertan merely as an attractive body she desired. But now, she was intrigued by the layers of walls he had built within himself, wanting to understand him more deeply.
It was becoming harder to ignore the voice inside her that screamed he was the only one for her. She found herself hoping foolishly, wishing he felt the same way.
---
Unexpectedly, Fertan maintained an almost exaggerated level of propriety. Despite infiltrating this countryside estate so perfectly under disguise, he refrained from visiting her bedroom at night. Aside from their reunion on the day he arrived, he kept a rational boundary.
Ironically, the distance he maintained—unnecessary and unwanted by Eleanor—was due to her supposed illness. Knowing full well she wasn’t truly sick, Fertan still frowned whenever she coughed theatrically.
Though she had stopped taking the medication, she hadn’t taken the antidote either, needing to maintain the appearance of gradual recovery in case someone else visited unexpectedly, like Edwin had.
Her ribs were checked morning and evening, and every meal was monitored closely, with him standing guard as if her eating habits were crucial to national security.
Eleanor grew frustrated. She missed his passionate embrace.
Having long since navigated the throes of sexual longing, she could acknowledge her desires honestly and refused to deny that her body craved him.
But still, she couldn’t bring herself to make the first move. She was at a loss for how to proceed.
She had considered stopping him during his final patrol in the evenings. But the words wouldn’t leave her lips. Her pride, her dignity, and the fear of rejection held her back.
As the days passed aimlessly, her symptoms gradually subsided, and her health improved.
At first, she only strolled through the estate’s garden or took short walks on nearby paths. But when her condition suddenly showed marked improvement, she decided to venture farther. The destination was a large lake that could be reached by driving the carriage for a while.
As soon as she expressed interest in the lake, the steward hurriedly arranged for a pleasure boat.
He said it was borrowed from a nearby merchant family. Upon hearing this, Eleanor couldn’t help but burst into laughter. For a noblewoman of the Roland household to borrow a boat from a rural merchant—though hastily arranged for an outing—it was an uncommon occurrence. Still, she thanked the steward sincerely for his efforts to accommodate her.
Under the clear early summer sky, the vast lake stretched so wide that the opposite shore seemed distant. As they loaded the boat with a picnic basket and various supplies, Fertan, fully armed with a sword like a proper guard, pointed out directions to her.
“Do you see that ridge over there?”
“The one with the dense trees?”
“Yeah, see the cliff just below it? We’ve set up our spot near there. Surrounded by cliffs and the lake, it’s practically an island.”
“An island? Why there?”
She found it odd that he chose such an isolated location. But then she caught sight of him swallowing dryly as he gazed into the distance and immediately understood.
Perhaps she was misinterpreting this as something more than a simple picnic. But in her current state of mind, she felt reckless enough to throw caution—and her pride—to the wind. Just the thought of being alone with him in a place surrounded by cliffs and water made her lower abdomen ache with anticipation, as if already filled with his presence.
The rest of the group stayed behind at the lakeside. The coachman had already found a spot to nap, while Evelyn and Liam waited with their own picnic basket, ready to eat once Eleanor departed.
Eleanor noticed how well Evelyn and Liam seemed to get along. If only Liam would take better care of his hygiene. Now that he looked more presentable, she often caught Evelyn stealing glances at him.
Though Eleanor wore a veil over her hat and carried a parasol to minimize sun exposure, she wasn’t particularly prone to tanning. She simply preferred to be cautious about the sun because she liked to do things thoroughly. She couldn’t afford to end up with a sunburned face after playing outdoors.
Her act of feigning illness had been so convincing that even Fertan had complained about it. Compared to that, holding a wide parasol with gloved hands was relatively mild.
Fertan steadied her as she stepped onto the boat, ensuring her dress didn’t catch on anything.
“Careful, sit here.”
“The boat feels small… a little scary.”
He chuckled lightly, agreeing with her.
“This is just a basic rowboat. The pleasure boats I know can seat a dozen people around a table for drinking parties. This one barely fits anyone.”
“So you were at the riverside banquet last year too? I remember my boat being very pretty.”
“I was right next to yours. I didn’t think you’d forget, but it still stings a little.”
“Really?”
“Yes! I was one of the many young men hovering around you.”
His grumbling was oddly endearing. Imagining him secretly watching her from afar brought a smile to her face.
He rowed slowly to prevent splashes from entering the boat.
The unadorned, roofless boat was just big enough for two people sitting face-to-face. At least the seating area was neatly finished, preventing her lace from snagging. She dared not shift positions; any movement might tip the boat and send them tumbling into the water.
But the boat itself hardly mattered. They were busy chatting animatedly, their conversation far exceeding polite small talk.
Their banter revolved mostly around teasing and critiquing each other. They bickered playfully, each trying to outdo the other in wit and charm.
The boat glided smoothly across the calm surface of the lake, creating gentle ripples.
The sound of oars splashing broke apart in the sunlight.
The oar dipped into the water, then pushed off repeatedly, creating boomerang-like waves that shimmered in the light.
Eleanor watched in fascination as his strong arms moved in elliptical motions around the oar. The delicate muscles of his wrist, exposed beyond his sleeve, caught her attention, forming intricate patterns that captivated her gaze.
His tightly clenched fist bore calluses—evidence of hard use. It was curious how a grand duke’s knuckles had become as tough as gravel from punching something or someone.
“You’re quite skilled at rowing.”
“People praise me endlessly for it.”
Rather than retorting that his boasting was excessive, which might damage her dignity as a noblewoman, she pouted slightly beneath her veil, shooting him a sly glance. He seemed thoroughly pleased with himself.
“What did you practice this for?”
“One of the common assassination tactics is drowning someone. To avoid that, swimming is essential, and knowing how to handle a boat helps too. I’ve actually had a chase scene in a similar small boat before. If I hadn’t known how to row, I wouldn’t have survived.”
“True, you did fall into a river recently.”
She couldn’t deny it. His survival in a river notorious for its whirlpools spoke volumes about his skills.
“By the way, Eleanor, everything about you is lovely, but could you lift your veil? I can’t meet your eyes like this.”
“Leonard has sharp eyes. If he notices my complexion has changed too much when we meet later, he’ll get suspicious.”
“Absolutely not. Your skin is already excessively pale.”
“But...”
“There’s no need to be this thorough with your mission. What can Leonard possibly do at this point?”
Lately, Eleanor had been carefully weighing every word Fertan said. His use of the phrase “at this point” particularly resonated with her. Did it mean their plans had progressed far enough that Leonard could no longer interfere recklessly? Or perhaps something irreversible had already occurred.
Pushing back the veil that had been stiflingly draped over her face, the sunlight-warmed breeze gently brushed past her nape.
The refreshing yet warm wind, the gentle splashing of water, and Fertan’s gaze—more piercing than the sun—created an atmosphere where the two of them felt completely isolated from the world aboard their modest little boat in the middle of the lake.
Reflections of water clung to his chin like scattered nets, the ripples around the boat painting his handsome face with light.
Fertan gazed at her without a flicker of distraction.
Her chest, pale as snow, her long slender neck, and her delicate face partially hidden under the parasol—he observed them all silently.
Though he was often lighthearted and prone to idle chatter, in this moment on the lake with her, he found himself unable to speak.
What Eleanor didn’t fully realize was that beneath Fertan’s calm exterior lay a filthy greed. In the middle of the lake, he harbored a depraved desire to pounce on her and thrust himself inside her.
Her platinum-blond hair cascaded smoothly in waves, and her amethyst-like eyes—too precious to compare to mere jewels—revealed a soul so pure and transparent. Even her oval face was flawlessly beautiful.
Every time she murmured with those adorable lips, Fertan grew hard.
When he stared at the water’s surface, he briefly relaxed, only to become erect again when he noticed her intently watching his wrist.
Though such base desires seemed unfitting for someone as refined and elegant as Eleanor, they only fueled his urge to defile her further. His greed knew no bounds, growing dirtier with each passing moment.
Fertan tried to wet his parched throat. As he swallowed, she stared at him intently.
Ha... This was the limit of his endurance.
Unable to violate her while looking into those clear eyes, he imagined covering them and ejaculating onto her face, leaving only her nose and mouth exposed.
“Ugh...”
His arousal caused him to lose rhythm with the oars.
“Huh? What’s wrong?”
Her innocent expression left him speechless. Though he had started their encounters with the intention of indulging in dirty play, over time, he found himself becoming cautious, striving to cater to her preferences.
He took a deep breath, attempting to focus on pure thoughts.
“It’s nothing.”
Lost in thought, her heart-shaped lips resembled a flower. Her tiny earlobes were so translucent that sunlight passed through them, making them appear almost transparent.
At the edge of these virtuous thoughts, he resolved to plump up her hollow cheeks no matter what.
“Are you tired? Let’s take a break.”
It was difficult to admit that his misstep wasn’t due to fatigue but rather overwhelming lust. While Eleanor didn’t dislike sexual innuendos, openly confessing the full extent of his desires would surely shock her into fleeing.
He needed to regulate the intensity. Revealing the reality of his constant arousal and perpetual fantasies about her was out of the question.
“You think I’m weak? Do you see me as some fragile man who gets exhausted by just this much?”
Teasing her only made her cat-like eyes narrow sharply. Ha... He was getting aroused again.
The laughter that bubbled out of him wasn’t forced—it came naturally whenever he was with Eleanor. Even unfunny jokes made him grin like an idiot around her.
Though he failed to make her laugh, he still felt endlessly happy.
“You don’t need to show off your strength. I already know how amazing you are. But what if your sword arm trembles when a thug suddenly appears?”
Even her teasing words filtered through to him differently. Other conversations faded into the background, leaving only her compliments etched in his mind. He felt like a complete fool.
“I’m perfectly fine.”
The boat glided across the water like skimming ice, swiftly approaching their intended lakeside destination. The group waiting by the shore now looked minuscule, like fingernails in the distance. It was just the two of them now, utterly alone.
Fertan knew he wouldn’t be able to restrain himself from pinning her down and thrusting into her the moment they reached land. Though her illness hadn’t fully subsided, even her slight improvement had stirred his desires to an uncontrollable level.
Maybe if he went gently, it’d be alright.
Despite being extremely cautious when they first arrived at the countryside house, Eleanor had nearly fainted after just one round of sex.
This time, he promised himself he’d stop right after seeing her beautiful pussy clench and spasm around his cock... Just until that point, then pull out.
“Ha, I’m going insane.”
Again, his thoughts revolved solely around fucking.
“Pardon?”
“It’s nothing.”
He reminded himself countless times to exercise restraint. Why go through the trouble of sneaking around during the day when sneaking into her bedroom at night was far more convenient? Sure, the mood might be nice here, but comfort-wise, nighttime visits were superior.
“I need to exercise restraint.
I’m not some beast—I’m a person, so I can control myself.”
Fertan forced himself to think of the most boring topic he could discuss at that moment in an attempt to summon some semblance of piety.
“Eleanor, no matter which path you choose later, you’ll put that brilliant mind of yours to good use. Even if you don’t become empress, you’re bound to secure a position among the empire’s central ministers, right?”
“That’s quite a heavy topic all of a sudden.”
“Assuming you take on such responsibilities, have you thought about any specific ideas? Like innovative reforms or fixing outdated systems?”
Eleanor, deep in thought, looked as tempting as a flower he wanted to crush under his hands.
“In fact, there’s something I’ve been uneasy about for a while now.”
“What is it?”
His question wasn’t meant to test her political capabilities—it was simply a desperate attempt to distract himself from his growing arousal. But Eleanor, as if waiting for him to ask, launched into a serious and lengthy explanation.
“Do you know what I’ve noticed, Fertan? People are drinking more and more these days.”
“Drinking?”
“Whenever I pass through street markets or attend seasonal festivals, I notice how much things have changed each year. This year, it’s gotten particularly bad. People aren’t just drinking to enjoy themselves—they’re drinking until they collapse or even die. I’ve heard reports of deaths linked to excessive drinking, though I haven’t had the chance to dig up exact statistics. When I was younger, this wasn’t the case. But recently, I’ve felt the rapid decline of urban life firsthand. The poor, homeless citizens wander without shelter, skipping meals and replacing them with alcohol. Even during late evening carriage rides, it’s common to see people passed out on the streets.”
“Uh… Eleanor.”
“What?”
“Take a breath before you continue. You’re about to explode with passion.”
Her delicate glare, flickering like sunlight, seemed almost inviting, as if her skirt were whispering for him to dive beneath it.
“The root of the problem lies in how cheap alcohol has become. Most of what the commoners drink is bootlegged liquor, which is technically illegal. But since no one enforces the law, everyone brews and sells it freely, leading to skyrocketing consumption. For those struggling to survive, buying bread becomes secondary to purchasing cheap booze. They work all day just to afford a bottle of rotgut, drink themselves unconscious, or collapse from exhaustion.”
He understood the gravity of the issue but wished she wouldn’t explain it so urgently.
Her lightly painted lips moved nonstop, delivering a fervent discourse that contrasted sharply with her dazzling beauty. It was as if a dam had burst, releasing a flood of policy ideas. There was even a solemn air to her words, reminiscent of someone presenting months of preparation before the emperor.
“This isn’t just about drinking culture—it’s tied to employment issues, wage problems, homelessness, and poverty. All these factors are interconnected.”
“Uh… I get it, so—”
There was no stopping her. He wished she’d pause for a single deep breath.
“You asked me what I’d do if given the chance, Fertan, and this isn’t something that can be fixed by addressing just one issue. We need comprehensive welfare policies to support the deteriorating lives of our citizens. Unemployed laborers should be mobilized for projects led by the imperial court—revitalizing decaying urban areas while providing wages that increase tax revenue over time. Simultaneously, we must crack down on bootlegging. If we dismantle illegal breweries and slightly adjust existing laws to strengthen liquor taxes, we could see significant short-term results. Plus, it would greatly benefit the imperial treasury. You probably already suspect this, but the current state of finances is on the brink of collapse. Every day, extravagance runs rampant…”
Thud—the boat hit the sandy shore.
“We’ve arrived.”
Had he not rowed diligently, he might have endured another detailed lecture on imperial finances.
Of course, Fertan agreed wholeheartedly with her insights—they aligned closely with his own thoughts. Still, discussing fiscal reform between sparkling lakes and pristine white sands wasn’t exactly fitting for a sunny outing. Though, admittedly, he had initiated the conversation.
She paused mid-sentence, snapping out of her fervor and glancing around as if waking from a dream.
While Fertan had been focused on rowing and she on staring ahead, their sudden arrival startled her. As always, moments with her were endlessly amusing. His unintended laughter made her eyes narrow playfully.
“This isn’t a dock; your shoes will get wet. Wait a moment.”
After removing his shoes and rolling up his pants, he stepped into the ankle-deep water, pulling the boat further onto the sand before extending his hand to her.
“Come here. Lean on me.”
The confident woman who had passionately outlined policies moments ago now hesitated, looking entirely different. Perhaps her slightly flushed cheeks were just his imagination.
Instead of simply leaning into him, she insisted on picking up the shoes he’d left behind, draping her lithe body against his arm.
Her dress, worn without shaping undergarments, allowed him to fully feel the softness of her figure. Her back and thighs radiated warmth as he held her close. Even after reaching firmer ground beyond the sandy shore, he found himself reluctant to let her go.
“What are you wearing underneath?”
Damn his unruly mouth. Despite vowing restraint, his instincts kept running wild.
His goal remained clear: wait until her slender stomach filled out just a little more, then make love to her safely and comfortably in the bedroom. He swore not to let the mood sweep him away here.
Though his lower body had been tense with anticipation since morning, swelling and subsiding repeatedly, he managed to endure—for now. The picnic’s purpose was simple: eating sandwiches, exchanging silly jokes, and making her roll her eyes at his antics. That alone should suffice.
But then, Eleanor’s hand, resting on his shoulder, subtly snaked around his neck in a loose embrace. Her feather-light touch brushed the nape of his neck, fingertips slipping inside his shirt collar.
Her pillowy breasts pressed firmly against his chest.
Her intention was unmistakable. Missing this hint would make him the world’s greatest fool. The center of his trousers stood erect like a cone as he carried her forward.
She was so sore that even walking was difficult. Her legs twitched. Her breasts, pressed against his chest, smelled sweet like ripe fruit, their hemispherical shapes flattened. Her gentle fingertips traced his neck, then toyed with his ear.
“Where is the place the butler prepared?”
The atmosphere was ripe for misinterpretation. It sounded like more than just asking for a destination; it sounded like she needed a place to lie down. No, it definitely meant that. He stared blankly at her, his face a picture of dazed desire.
With the summer beach as a backdrop, her face was angelic. Her noble platinum hair fluttered in the lake breeze, and her skin, so translucent that even the finest veins seemed visible, was as clear as pure jade. He tensed his arms, afraid she might vanish into fragments of light, she was so dazzling. He could feel her nipples, small and soft, but distinctly protruding. The frantic beating of his heart echoed through his chest and reached her. He couldn’t hide his arousal, let alone control it.
“It’s right ahead. I’ll carry you there, so you don’t get sand in your shoes.”
Her alluring smile, with its dimpled corners, was pure torture. A drop of pre-cum leaked into his trousers. Eleanor’s beauty was renowned in the social circles centered around the imperial palace. While he deliberately acted like a scoundrel to avoid attention, she received praise and admiration as she was. Despite the formidable barrier of the crown prince, young nobles from various families continued to court her. There were many who confessed their pining love, saying they were irresistibly drawn to her. Fertan was far down the line. He couldn’t take his eyes off Eleanor, but the circumstances were unfavorable. If he made any conspicuous moves, the emperor or Leonhard would attack him immediately. So, he had to wait for a sure chance to have her. If it hadn’t been for the incident when he accidentally crawled under Eleanor’s skirt while infiltrating the emperor’s vault, the opportunity would have come much later. The fact that Eleanor, universally praised as a divine creation, liked him was, frankly, a stroke of luck. He was grateful that she liked even just his body. Every time, his cock would spring to attention. Even the mere sight of her would send him into a frenzy. Satisfying her as a man was incredibly exhilarating. And now, she was seducing him first, making his heart ache with joy.
“Put me down now.”
Whether she meant to be put down alone or to roll around together, it seemed more likely to be the latter. The upturned tips of her long, curved eyelashes revealed her mischievous intentions. Being seduced filled him with pride, his heart threatening to burst from his chest. He wished she would entice him more, that she wouldn’t stop touching his ear... He carried her into the summer picnic area, escaping the harsh sunlight. The butler, who had prepared a transport boat disguised as a pleasure boat, had surprisingly set up a decent picnic area. A large awning, capable of sheltering dozens, spread over eight poles, and a pile of blankets, enough for a military platoon, lay on one side of the waterproof floor. It was the only thing he liked about the incompetent butler of the rural mansion. Fertan brushed off the sand and stepped onto the dry area. With Eleanor still in his arms, he used his feet to pull the blankets and spread them out. Once the disheveled nest of blankets was soft enough for Eleanor to lie on, he felt a little relieved. He sat down on the pile of furs, placing her on his lap.
“There doesn’t seem to be any cushion suitable for your bottom. They’re all rough and hard, so I suppose you’ll have to sit on me.”
Eleanor’s hand slid across his chest, clad only in a vest and shirt in the warm weather. It was a gentle but irresistible touch.
“Thank you for your consideration, but you don’t have to go this far. I’m not some fragile object that breaks easily.”
“Then I can do whatever I want?”
“......?”
Tilting her head as if she didn’t understand, while playing with the vest buttons, she was breathtakingly beautiful. She was also overflowing with sensuality, making it hard to suppress the urge to devour her.
“Ah, never mind. Just give me a moment to calm down.”
She probably didn’t know that he sneaked into her room every night. Even in her sleep, the proper and polite Eleanor never woke up, even when he breathed his lustful breath over her blankets. The sound of her even breathing stirred his desire. It was almost unbearable. But he never touched her while she was asleep. Fertan spent the long nights watching the small, softly swelling blankets. Then, taking advantage of a moment when she stirred, he buried his face in her hair. The sweet scent of her neck was dizzying. His trousers bulged, making it hard to endure. He had to retreat without even fully savoring her scent. Near dawn, Fertan left her bedroom. He went straight to his room, unzipped his trousers, and grasped his erect cock. He entered his empty bed, relying on the lingering scent in his nose to arouse him. He masturbated, imagining her touch, shamelessly stroking his throbbing member. He whispered Eleanor’s name, and his semen easily spurted out. She always made him a man who came too easily. He repeated this ritual every day he stayed at the mansion. He indulged in his hidden desires, shaking his cock and plotting to take Eleanor as his own. Unaware of this, she blinked her clear iris eyes.
“Calming down... I don’t like that.”
Fertan had to grit his teeth. His desire for her was no longer just about securing her as an ally for their shared cause. While he had initially targeted her for the sake of future plans, the layers of emotion that had accumulated over time had overshadowed all other intentions.
He wanted to elevate her into a goddess solely for him to worship, eagerly awaiting each sunset so he could slide himself inside her.
“N-No, stop. I deeply regret how thin your sides have become. Lady Eleanor, you’ve been performing your duties perfectly, and I’ll never forget that from now on. But... damn it, wait...”
If Eleanor knew how he’d spent countless nights pleasuring himself to thoughts of them entwined, she wouldn’t be flaunting such innocent charm. He’d soaked handkerchiefs with his release, droplets of semen stiffening the sheets around him.
Did she realize how pathetic he looked, begging for her touch like this?
“Take this off right now. If not, you’ll make me rip it off out of worry for your fragility.”
With her ungloved hands, she began unbuttoning his vest one by one.
“This isn’t good… ah.”
Though he could have stopped her, Fertan let her continue, sucking in deep breaths as anticipation swelled his chest. She shot him a mischievous glance when she noticed his rising excitement.
It was only natural. All of Fertan’s mind and body had already surrendered to Eleanor.
Her touch, light as a bird’s fluttering wings, undid the final button and slipped into the waistband of his trousers. Her fingers traced slowly from his hipbone forward, prodding gently at his lower abdomen.
“Fertan, are you enjoying me undressing you?”
She’d hit the mark. His brain felt like it was melting from arousal.
Each button undone made his heart pump wildly, and her seemingly casual probing sent blood rushing to his groin, veins visibly bulging beneath the skin.
“If I admit how much I’m enjoying this, will you do even more? Maybe beg me to tear you apart once your wrists get a little thicker?”
Her chin lifted defiantly, lips pursing into a round, berry-like pout.
“Hah, honestly, Fertan... I really wonder what’s going on inside your head.”
The truth—that his mind was consumed with thoughts of penetrating her—remained unspoken. This was the limit of what his body and sanity could endure.
His rationality hung by a thread, ready to snap at any moment. Now was his last chance to restrain himself, to escape her fatal grasp.
Instead of laying her bare, delicate skin against the coarse portable blanket they’d brought, he imagined burying himself into her tight warmth. Self-control would vanish entirely if he entered her now, and he’d lose himself in reckless thrusts. By the time he finished with her, bruises would surely bloom across her fragile frame.
He needed to show improvement. Remembering the first night at Rubellon Hills when he couldn’t hold back, leaving her emaciated body covered in splotches, he resolved to exercise restraint.
It wasn’t time yet to claim her fully.
He had to endure. Patience was key.
His teeth ground together audibly. He was being pushed to the brink of his self-control.
“M-Me... just give me a moment.”
Her sly eyes narrowed sharply.
“Hmm, let’s swim.”
“Swim? Out of nowhere?”
“We’ve come all this way—it’d be a shame to just admire the lake without dipping in. I’ll be back after a quick dip.”
Leaving Eleanor wrapped in the blanket felt harder than raising a corpse from its grave. His hasty retreat toward the water must have looked ridiculous, his stumbling steps awkward and desperate.
“Fertan.”
Her bewildered voice clung stubbornly to his ears, refusing to fade.
He bit down hard on his lip until he tasted blood.
“I’ve already shown you how well I row; now it’s time to show off my swimming skills. The more qualities I display, the sooner you might decide to become empress, right?”
What a flimsy excuse. All because he didn’t know what to do with his throbbing erection, fleeing like a coward.
Fertan tore off his unbuttoned shirt in one swift motion, pulling down his trousers and underwear together. He tried to ignore her gaze fixed on his rigid length. His body was already burning as he strode past the grass toward the gravel-and-sand shore of the lake.
Behind him, her soft footsteps approached, splashing faintly against the ground.
“Be careful. It’s an unfamiliar lake.”
“No need to worry.”
Fertan replied boldly, striding confidently into the water. He paused ankle-deep, scooping up handfuls of cold water to splash over his shoulders. Droplets cascaded down his inverted triangular torso.
Eleanor watched his bare back intently, her eyes tracing the taut curve of his buttocks and the thick muscles of his thighs. Each step revealed the subtle, sinewy details of his calves, which only fueled her growing desire.
He bent slightly, lifting more water with his hands, letting it cascade over his shoulders. Rivulets ran down his muscular frame.
Eleanor understood she’d been rejected—for now.
But she wasn’t displeased. Though a small part of her felt defeated by the failed seduction, there was something endearing about seeing him fret over her frail body. She wondered inwardly whether her allure or his misplaced concern would win out next time.
She could feel the dampness of his underwear through his pants, evidence of his struggle. That he had managed to pull away despite being in such a state was unexpected.
‘I like it.’
Though Fertan had many faces, the one he wore today by the lakeside was quite appealing.
Still, Eleanor hadn’t given up on her teasing just yet. When he returned from his sudden swim, she planned to test how long he could hold out.
Fertan’s naked form gradually submerged into the lake. The water rose past his knees and over his rigid erection. Her gaze shifted to his broad shoulders, where a scar from the carriage attack still lingered—a raw patch of healing skin that remained reddened.
In the bright sunlight, she noticed an older, long gash along his lower back. He had mentioned enduring countless life-threatening situations, and now his body bore witness to more than just the stories he’d shared with her.
His swimming technique surprised her. She had expected powerful strokes slicing through the water, but instead, he moved smoothly, creating gentle ripples as he glided forward.
With only the back of his head visible above the surface, Fertan resembled an otter—similar to the ones kept in the palace ponds, their movements fluid and effortless. Barely making a sound, he quickly disappeared into the distance. His earlier boasts about his swimming skills were clearly not empty words.
The lake was vast, and from Eleanor’s vantage point, Liam and Evelyn’s picnic spot was no longer visible. Swimming at a speed that might rival running on land, Fertan soon became a tiny black dot in the distance.
She understood the emotional state that had driven him to leap into the water so abruptly.
‘He’s kind of cute like this.’
Approaching the calm edge of the lake, she cautiously dipped her hand into the water. It was quite cold. Imagining him cooling off while swimming brought an involuntary smile to her lips.
After waiting for what felt like a long time, the dark figure finally returned. The soaked man emerged from the water, pushing his wet hair back from his forehead. Unaware of how seductive his casual gesture appeared, he spoke.
“Sorry. Did you wait long?”
By the time he stepped fully out of the water, his flaccid cock had already risen halfway. Thicker than her wrist, droplets of clear lake water dripped from its tip.
Even knowing it was lake water, Eleanor couldn’t help but entertain lewd thoughts about whether his fluids had mixed with it.
“Not at all,” she replied indifferently, lowering her thick black veil.
He shook the water from his arms and helped her up, guiding her back toward their campsite.
“While swimming, I thought…”
Her ears instinctively perked up.
“You seem unsatisfied too, though perhaps not as much as me.”
“Not at all!”
Before she could firmly deny it, Fertan rushed ahead with his own words.
“So I feel obligated to relieve you.”
Such crude remarks should have doused even a millennium’s worth of lust. Yet, despite her irritation, Eleanor’s desire only burned hotter, her lower abdomen throbbing painfully like the second day of her cycle. It baffled her how his nonsense only fueled her arousal further.
If she even felt the urge to devour his smirking face, something was clearly wrong with her libido.
“Eleanor, what if we connected your insatiable appetite to… this?”
He gestured toward his grotesquely swollen groin.
“What…?”
“Just wait a moment. I’ll prepare a feast worthy of your craving.”
“But I’m not really hungry right now.”
“That’s exactly the problem. You’ve forgotten how to eat properly because you haven’t been indulging enough.”
Fertan fluffed up the blanket again, creating a soft seat for her before helping her sit down. His smirk grew more suggestive, almost ominous. A warning to tread carefully seemed to echo somewhere in the back of her mind.
He rummaged through the picnic basket the steward had carefully prepared. Watching him pull out every item and contemplate deeply only heightened her curiosity.
Finally, he picked up custard cream and cherries, but Eleanor still couldn’t predict what he intended to do. Even when he spread the food around him and lay back, she remained clueless.
His erection pointed skyward.
What exactly had excited him? Though she didn’t understand, there was no stopping the hypnotic rotation of his phallus as it drew her gaze.
He scooped a generous dollop of cream with his finger—a rather uncouth act after swimming—and smeared it onto his shaft. His lascivious gaze pierced her, sharp enough to make any woman blush.
The next moment, his pulsating rod was thoroughly coated in cream.
“Fertan...”
But he wasn’t done. He continued smearing layer upon layer until the entire massive length glistened. Rolling his hips subtly, he shamelessly beckoned her.
“Well? Is your appetite stirring yet?”
Lying back completely on the blanket, he grabbed a handful of cherries and placed them strategically across his rippling abs, arranging them like jewels on a rugged landscape.
He added more cherries around his sternum, adorning each brick-like ridge of muscle.
Eleanor’s eyes, peeking up at his cream-smeared cock and groin, were flushed red.
“What exactly are you doing?”
“Trying to fill your belly. If you eat all this cream, Eleanor, you can suck my cock as much as you want. And if you eat all the cherries, I’ll drive you crazy until sunset. How’s my offer?”
“You call that a negotiation!”
“I want to fuck you properly, not do this. Please, I wish that day would come soon.”
A decent picnic lunch was laid out on his glistening, half-dried body. Cherries danced on his abdomen with each breath he took. His taut, erect cock swayed as he sighed out his unfulfilled lust. What a terribly debauched man. She wanted to unleash a torrent of curses, but instead, she pondered how to navigate this situation. Her thoughts were interrupted when he placed the last cherry between his lips and began to pout. Her pent-up desire exploded.
“Hah...”
She nipped at his cherry-red lips with her teeth.
She didn’t want to miss the moment she had been anticipating throughout the lakeside outing. She hadn’t expected to eat lunch off his body, but the thought of his thick cock soon soothing her was too tempting to resist. Her teeth, having torn at his lip, must have drawn blood. She could faintly taste it. Fertan, who had been chewing on his inner cheek, was unaware of the blood and blamed himself.
Next, she moved to his hollow collarbone. The prominent bones, standing out against his straight shoulders, were deep enough to hold a few cherries. Placing one on either side of his Adam’s apple was relatively tame. She ate one, licking his sensually curved neck.
“Hng...”
Did he always make such moans? She couldn’t quite recall. Eleanor was usually too preoccupied with her own intense orgasms to notice Fertan’s vocal reactions. Her lips, stained with juice, trailed down his ribbed chest, reaching the diamond-shaped indentation of his sternum. As he inhaled and exhaled deeply, a cherry rolled into her mouth. The next step was easier. Watching the tendrils of muscle on his lower abdomen, she dipped her face between his legs, retrieving the cherries nestled there, her lips and even nose brushing against him. Her underwear was already soaked.
After swallowing a dozen large cherries, she began to feel full. She used to eat twice as many, but her stomach must have shrunk, as she felt bloated after just a few. Perhaps this was why Fertan was so eager to feed her. It was a little wicked to secretly enjoy his fussing.
“Eat... my cock too. Hng...”
His lower body trembled. This adorable sight pleased her. It was proof that her sexual allure captivated him. His fist-sized glans was already dripping with clear fluid. The cream she had applied was mixing with his pre-cum, creating a glistening trail. The heated tip was coated in melted cream, while the cooler shaft was covered in a frothy, white substance.
“Hah!”
She attacked Fertan with her wide-open mouth.
“Ugh!”
He shuddered. The large glans filled her mouth to capacity, but she was captivated by the faint, salty taste of his fluids. It was the same taste she had experienced in the lounge at the ball when they first met. Eleanor pushed his cock as far as her mouth would allow. Regardless of his reaction, she was driven by her own desire. She swallowed him deep, the mushroom-shaped tip brushing against her throat. Her swollen mouth provided a small release for her pent-up desire. She was indeed frustrated. She wanted to force his cream-covered cock into her body.
“Kuh... stop... hng.”
Fertan seemed to be crying. Was he really crying? He had been so tough just moments ago. Her thickly swollen lips moved downward. She tried her best to lick him clean. She noticed him leaking more fluid, and then she smelled the musky scent of his semen mingling with the cream. There was so much cream that it was hard to distinguish the taste. As his shaft kept twitching, Eleanor gripped the base with her hand. She licked the misshapen glans, repeatedly pushing the thick head into her wide-open mouth, then pulling back when her jaw began to ache.
Noticing the trickle of fluid from the tip, she gently pressed her tongue against the small opening. He shuddered.
“Ugh, don’t touch it there.”
Ah, so that’s where she should touch. She didn’t know how to please him, but now she had some information. Her mouth was coated in sweet cream. After swallowing her saliva, she turned her attention back to Fertan. She wrapped her lips around the top of his glans, pointing her tongue. She searched for the opening with her tongue. Fertan writhed in pleasure as her mouth teased the area around his urethra. He bucked his hips, crying out as if he were dying.
The man’s pained groans were incredibly stimulating.
Eleanor teased the small, sensitive opening at the tip of his shaft, pressing her tongue firmly into the slit. Though only a fraction of her tongue could penetrate, he writhed in agony, clawing at his own naked body.
As she pressed deeper into his urethra, subtle movements rippled around her tongue. She tasted something pure—undeniably his essence. It was an obscene, primal flavor that spoke of raw animal instinct.
“You pretend to be generous, but it seems like you’re the one who’s enjoying this far too much, Fertan.”
When she pulled her mouth away from the head, a viscous fluid clung to her tongue, stretching slightly before breaking off.
His labored breathing began to steady, though only just.
“It feels amazing... God, it feels so good. Just the thought of your lips on me is satisfying enough—but what exactly are you doing to me?”
“I’m just following orders,” Eleanor replied coyly, though what they shared went beyond mere amusement.
Her half-lidded gaze shifted to the towering column of flesh before her. There was still cream left to clean up. While she had managed to lick away most of the upper portion, the thick layers coating the long shaft proved overwhelming. The cream alone was starting to feel overly rich.
She sighed inwardly. There was no choice but to try and wipe off what remained.
As she moved her hand along the base of his shaft, attempting to rub away the excess, her eyes met his.
Caught red-handed in her clumsy attempt to cover up, a sudden wave of embarrassment flushed her ears crimson.
“Eleanor, shouldn’t we eat soon?”
Her pouting lips were smeared with pre-cum and cream.
“There’s too much.”
“What do you mean, too much? It’s just a handful of cherries and a jar of custard cream.”
“Your hands are big, Fertan. Those cherries were quite plump, weren’t they?”
In the end, she had no choice but to give up. As she withdrew her hands from his lower body, he quickly stood up.
“Let’s call it quits here for now. I’ll bring you a sandwich later—you’d better eat plenty of it.”
He looked both regretful and relieved, as if reaffirming his resolve not to have sex until her body fully recovered. Despite indulging in such explicit acts, his determination remained unshaken.
They returned to the lakeside to wash away the remnants of their playful feast.
When Eleanor approached the water’s edge, Fertan placed a flat stone near the shore for her to step on, ensuring her shoes wouldn’t get wet. Standing on the makeshift platform, she avoided soaking her footwear.
Fertan, who had submerged himself again in the cold water, crouched nearby and carefully wiped her face and hands clean.
As he washed her, his hands gently kneaded her skin. The sensation tickled her ribs, sending shivers through her. His seductive advances felt like lightning—intense and electrifying—but the way he tenderly dried her cheeks and meticulously cleaned each finger felt warm, like spring sunlight.
Kneeling on the pebbly sand, water lapped at Fertan’s knees.
The stones beneath him must have been uncomfortable, and the water undoubtedly cold, yet he didn’t rise after finishing. Instead, he continued to hold her hand.
Though the lake water was chilly, the warmth of his grip quickly evaporated any remaining moisture. His considerate gestures, like lifting her hem to keep her clothes dry, were gentle and thoughtful.
With his half-dried hair glistening in the sun, Fertan fixed his deep-set gaze on her without moving.
“Perhaps...”
The naked man, his lower body submerged in the lake, spoke slowly in a low voice.
“To reclaim you, I might have to stake even more than I already have.”
What did he mean by that?
Their connection wasn’t particularly deep. They weren’t lovers consumed by fiery passion.
Even if she couldn’t recall being six years old, perhaps Fertan cherished memories of her from when he was ten. That alone seemed significant enough.
Still, Eleanor didn’t look away from his dark, unwavering eyes, meeting them steadily.
“Reclaim me? What do you mean?”
“If you were destined to be mine, then reclaiming you would make sense.”
“...And maybe… you’ve become more important to me than I realized.”
His pitch-black gaze was so earnest that Eleanor immediately understood what he meant by “important.”
Though her hands had long since dried, feeling soft and warm, he continued to fiddle with them. His large hands grew hotter against her skin, almost feverish after the cold water.
“To be honest,” he confessed, “I originally approached you with an ulterior motive.”
“I know. I weighed my options and chose you too.”
“It wasn’t a plot to harm you, but it wasn’t entirely pure either. But now...”
A droplet of water clung to the tip of Fertan’s chin before falling, revealing the faint bob of his Adam’s apple as it trembled.
The man who was always so composed now couldn’t hide his nervousness.
He opened his mouth to continue but faltered, lips parting and then closing again without another word. Eleanor leaned in expectantly, waiting for him to finish what he had started with “now,” but he ultimately left it unsaid.
Instead, he intertwined their fingers, one by one.
Basking in the brilliant sunlight as the moisture on his shoulders dried, he shuffled closer on his knees across the coarse sandy shore.
“Eleanor...”
His broad shoulders gradually lowered. Bending at the waist, he brought his head down to a position lower than hers.
His hot lips pressed against the back of her hand like a seal.
It was uncharacteristic of a man who had never hesitated to indulge in all manner of intimate acts—this simple, chaste kiss on the back of her hand. He had been bold from their very first meeting, throwing caution to the wind as their bodies intertwined time and again in unrestrained passion.
“I’m sorry... I’m sorry that the man who has set his heart on you is in such a state.”
“...”
“I’m sorry for putting you in danger with this mission, and even sorrier still because I can’t bring myself to let you go.”
He had repeated similar apologies many times before. They both knew this was necessary for the success of their uprising, yet he persisted in expressing his regret.
“It’s the path I’ve chosen. When I came to you, I made my decision long ago.”
“Regardless of our plans, my heart isn’t at ease. I often think how much better it would have been if I were just an ordinary man—one of those average noble sons circling around you.”
The lake shimmered gently under the sunlight, its surface reflecting dazzling patterns onto his body.
A sparse net-like pattern covered his thighs and abdomen, while flickering light danced around the droplets falling from his chin.
Lost in admiration of the beautiful sight, Eleanor’s eyes naturally narrowed.
“On the contrary, I consider myself fortunate. That day will come sooner or later, and having the chance to choose was a blessing for me.”
She referred to the day of their coup—the day Fertan would ascend the throne or fail, leading them all to death.
“Even so...”
He gripped her hand tightly, almost crushing it.
“If only I could have proposed to you as a carefree noble youth skilled only in dancing, during peaceful times when nothing ever happened.”
He lamented the impossibility of such a scenario, slowly releasing his grip and raising his head. For a fleeting moment, the layers of masks he wore fell away, revealing a face etched with genuine sorrow. Fine wrinkles formed on the bridge of his nose as he frowned deeply, radiating an air of frustration and unease.
Eleanor understood the reality—they could not proceed with a normal marriage.
But there was no helping it. They lived in turbulent times.
This was the calm before the storm. The empire was rotting from within, the emperor cowering like a creature hiding in its shell, and soon Fertan would unleash a tempest in his quest to reclaim what was lost.
“But Eleanor, I’ll protect you with everything I have, as far as my strength allows.”
It was neither quite a confession of love nor simply a vow of loyalty.
This promise wasn’t merely a lord pledging to safeguard his subordinate.
When the moment came to protect her, it would undoubtedly be accompanied by life-and-death stakes. Though Fertan vowed to shield her, and Eleanor committed herself fully to ensuring his success, unforeseen calamities could easily arise. Perhaps this was his way of promising to guard her with every ounce of his being, even in the worst possible future.
Fertan lifted her firmly by their tightly clasped hands, pulling her to her feet.
As she gazed into the distant forest, Eleanor muttered softly to herself, words too faint for anyone else to hear.
“Hah, I really am... pathetic.”
She couldn’t shake off the deep-rooted self-loathing that clung stubbornly to her heart.
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