# 46
Andrew went to the reception room, where the Marquis Mayer was waiting for him accompanied by a servant. The Marquis stood and bowed to the prince.
“Have you been well, Your Highness?”
"You were wonderful! You look in good health too. How is the Marchioness?"
“She is fine, Your Highness.”
“Glad to hear she's okay!”
They exchanged greetings as if they were meeting each other after a long time. Andrew, smiling brightly, pointed to his companions.
“Leave us so that I can speak with the Marquis alone. As for the servant I have brought...”
Andrew glanced at the huge servant with thick glasses standing behind the Marquis.
“…It would be better if at least one person stayed to help, wouldn’t you agree, Marquis?”
“I agree, Your Highness.”
Once all the attendants had left and the door was tightly closed, Andrew's shadow knight stood guard outside the room. At the knight's signal, Andrew abandoned his act.
“I never expected you to show up here.”
“…”
The Marquis did not reply. Instead, the servant sat behind him on the sofa. Neither the Marquis nor the Prince stopped him.
After a moment, the servant removed the wig, revealing shiny black hair beneath the messy brown disguise. He put his thick glasses next to the tea cup.
“Thank you for having me, Your Highness.”
The servant—no, Duke Harold—smiled with his dark blue eyes.
“You seem to think surprising me is a sign of happiness.”
“Yes, I think so.”
Andrew let out a dry laugh. Harold's easy confidence reminded him of how he had used a sword mercilessly during the festival, and his demeanor changed as easily as if he flipped a coin.
Although Andrew took advantage of that event to catch the Emperor's spies, Harold's behavior still surprised him.
“What brings you in disguise, Duke?”
“You must have heard about the witch who was arrested recently. You probably know that the Emperor intends to bury the case rather than investigate further.”
“I'm aware of both.”
“Do you plan to leave it as it is, Your Highness?”
Andrew narrowed his eyes, trying to read Harold's intentions.
'What is the motive behind his asking this?'
Unable to understand him, Andrew decided to be honest.
"You know my situation. If I act like I'm aware of this incident, it could put me in danger."
“…”
“I would at least like to ensure the safety of the people, but the Emperor will never listen to my requests.”
“…”
“Trying to do something now will only make things worse for me.”
Andrew's voice was calm but heavy with resignation, and the scent of tea became bitter.
His clenched fists turned white from the pressure. Harold glanced at his hands, then looked up.
“If there was a way to ensure the safety of the public while minimizing the risks, would you do it?”
"What?"
Andrew's eyes widened. Harold wouldn't say something like that lightly—he had to have a plan.
"Tell me. I'll decide after I hear."
Andrew couldn't afford to act rashly with so many lives depending on his decisions.
Harold explained his plan. When he finished, Andrew rubbed his face with his hands.
“...Ha, ha! How did I not think of this before? This might actually work.”
If it works, all Andrew needs to do is keep acting clumsy and naive, and he'll be safe.
They discussed the plan in more detail, and once completed, Harold disguised himself as a servant again.
Andrew watched him quietly, his fingers still trembling with excitement.
He was thrilled by Harold's prowess, though it saddened him to think that the Duke was terminally ill. But Andrew couldn't get rid of one question.
“Duke, can I ask you something?”
Harold wasn't the type to get involved in something that didn't relate to him unless there was gain. Based on what Andrew knew, Harold was not someone who acted out of pure good intentions.
“What is the real reason you did this?”
“I just wish to help the future sun of the empire.”
."Really? It's good to know you're on my side, Duke."
Andrew extended his hand to shake hands, and Harold left after they agreed. Even while the attendants were cleaning the drawing room, Andrew remained sitting on the sofa.
“I just wish to help the future sun of the empire.”
Andrew sneered, his shoulders shaking with a quiet laugh.
'This is a very obvious lie.'
While it made sense for them to form a mutually beneficial alliance, Harold had no clear reason to go that far. Moreover, there was a brief moment when Harold's expression softened with something resembling spring light.
Andrew realized that there was only one person who could make Harold act like a human being, and that was his wife, Diana.
'If it's for the Duchess, then it makes sense.'
Andrew was glad Harold couldn't read minds; Otherwise, the Duke might have tried to silence him by now. Andrew shook his head and left the reception room.
By then, the sun had set, and the sky was darkening.
The sound of an owl hooting came from outside the hallway window.
* * *
I swallowed nervously as I stood outside the master bedroom.
It was that time again—time to help Harold with his “cure.”
“…It's just therapy. That's all.”
I muttered to myself repeatedly, trying to convince myself, as I opened the door.
Harold was sitting on the bed, and I walked over to him. As I approached him, my chest tightened, and my palms became sweaty. I wiped them on my pajamas several times.
“Let's get started for today.”
“N-yes...”
I took a deep breath and threw my arms around Harold's back with all my might. Skin on skin, without even a thread of fabric between us, his warmth was clear and unfiltered.
The sharp lines of his back muscles were starkly palpable beneath my fingers.
‘Ah!’
At that moment, Harold wrapped his arms around me as if he wanted to crush me and bent down slightly.
His sharp nose rubbed the back of my neck, making me shiver.
“…Huh.”
Harold exhaled a hot breath, looking relaxed and calmed by divine energy. The warm breath pooling near my collarbone made my fists instinctively tighten.
'This is just a form of therapy.'
I reminded myself again, desperately trying to stay focused.
But it was as if Harold was deliberately testing my resolve. He began to rub his cheek against my shoulder, the tickle of his soft black hair rubbing my skin. I bit down hard on the soft inside of my cheek.
My heartbeat in my chest became like a stormy sea.
I felt as if I was about to be swept into a deep, unknown abyss with no return.
'I can't do this anymore.'
I turned away from Harold like a frightened rabbit and stumbled back a few steps.
“What if we go back to just holding hands starting tomorrow?” I suggested nervously.
The holding of hands was slower, yes, but it still worked to heal him...
Harold tilted his head slightly, his gaze thoughtful.
“Didn't you say that more physical contact improves the quality of healing?”
“N-Yes, but...”
I opened and closed my mouth repeatedly, looking for a suitable excuse.
"no."
"why not?!"
“I want to get well as quickly as possible, Diana.”
His strong arms pulled me towards him, throwing me off balance.
Instinctively, I braced my hands on his chest.
My heart, which had been on the verge of panic, was now plunged into complete chaos. It was accelerating so madly that I felt like it might explode.
“In that case, starting tomorrow, let’s make… physical contact more intimate.”
His hot, dark blue eyes lowered, pausing meaningfully on my lips.
"What is your opinion?"
I bit my lip, my cheeks burning. I shook my head madly, like a fish trying to break free from a net.
"It's impossible! I can't do it! I'm already struggling with this much!"
"Good."
"…What?"
I am waiting. Just like that?
I looked at Harold warily, feeling a little confused.
“I told you before, didn't I? I'll only take things as far as you allow.”
Harold whispered gently, reassuring me that he wouldn't force me.
I felt the sincerity of his words about honoring the contract, and my body relaxed.
The feeling of sinking into the deep sea now seemed like a misunderstanding.
“Okay then, we'll just hold hands tomorrow...”
“Except what you already agreed to.”
“…Hing.”
I let out a small moan of frustration but eventually gave in.
We had signed a contract, and it was my role to help him recover
'If I were in his place, I might feel the same way.'
In the end, I realized I just had to find a way to cope. Either adapt or endure this embarrassment for the coming years...
The thought was daunting, and I closed my eyes tightly as if that might help fend it off.
Suddenly, Harold pulled me into his arms and lay down on the bed.
For a moment, the bed shook like a wave.
“Diana, would you like some help?”
I blinked in confusion and turned to look at him. Harold, lying on his side, studied me with an expression that seemed strangely serious.
“Help with what?”
Harold leaned back slightly, his hand resting on the sheets near my side, his head tilted slightly. His jet-black hair fell over his forehead, and his deep, dark blue eyes held mine with a steady, intense gaze.
“If you find it difficult to adapt to me, I can help you with that.”
My breath hitched and my gaze locked on his, steady and full of intent. His words hung in the air, and for a moment, I forgot how to respond.
* * *