The lights in the bridal chamber were extinguished early. Peon, having doused all the lamps, thought of the Emperor’s spies watching from beyond the curtains and windows. They would be outside the door as well.
He looked toward Kaella, who had tucked herself into the bedding. To be precise, it was a heap of blankets, but it felt sinful to even let his gaze linger, so he turned away. She was seven years his junior, a younger sister whose hand he had held since she took her first stumbling steps. A sister should remain a sister. *Get a grip.*
But why had Kaella crawled into bed without a care for his presence? And now that they were married, she had changed her tone immediately, acting as if they weren’t alone in the room.
*Is she still that naive?*
Had she always been? He didn’t know. He had waited as long as possible, slipping inside only when he thought she might be asleep. It was his mistake for overlooking the fact that, no matter how often he experienced it, a lady’s grooming always took longer than expected. His heart had dropped when he saw Kaella slumped over on the bed, but she had been awake the whole time.
She was tired. That was understandable. Her voice was fading, and under the layers of her white nightgown, her ankles and feet were swollen; she looked so fragile. He knew it was hard on her, but the way she had simply slumped down was truly unique for a young lady. Was she not afraid of him? It was impossible that she hadn’t received instruction regarding the wedding night.
No, that wasn’t it. Peon shook his head. After the chaos Beatrice had caused, Kaella might have completely discarded any thoughts of marital intimacy. In their previous marriage, there had been none. To be precise, Peon had left her alone, supposedly to “uphold his fidelity and integrity,” causing Kaella to be mocked as a “wooden doll who wasn’t even a woman.”
*Those words must never be spoken again.*
That situation must never repeat. It would be better to be rumored incompetent. That would serve as a legitimate ground for divorce for Kaella later on. If anyone was to be pointed at in this marriage, it had to be Peon. He would never repeat the same mistake.
He turned his back on Kaella and sat on the floor, not on the bed. The presence behind him felt pitifully fragile, and he was terrified of her extreme delicacy. To protect someone he had once thoroughly shattered, without a single scratch—yes, it was a terrifying task. To him, who had only ever known how to break things and who would have to continue waging war, Kaella was an utterly baffling existence.
And so, he chewed on his sin in the darkness, over and over again. For a very long time. Until Kaella, who had been lying as still as the dead, finally made a rustling sound.
*My feet hurt.*
The soles of her feet were burning, and her calves ached. The muscles in her thighs were crying out, throbbing and sore. On top of that, because she had turned to her side, mindful of Peon, and hadn’t moved for so long, her entire body was numb.
*Should I turn over and pretend I’m talking in my sleep? Pretend it’s just a habit? What should I do?*
Ah. How had she ended up worrying about something like this? She was overly conscious of why that man was sitting under the bed, perfectly still. Her legs, which she had kept crossed, slid down. The thin quilt rustled.
Kaella held her breath. She heard a sound—light footsteps approaching and stopping in front of her. She desperately pretended to be asleep. She heard the sound of something heavy being placed on the floor, then he sat down close to her.
“Kaella.”
Tension climbed up from her waist at his low voice, but she did not move.
“I know you can’t sleep, so open your eyes.”
At his words—the realization that she wasn’t ‘not’ sleeping, but ‘couldn’t’ sleep—Kaella had no choice but to open her eyes. A gaze as quiet and polite as his voice watched her, as if he knew everything.
He had pulled up a chair to the bedside.
“Listen to me carefully.”
What was he about to do? Kaella sat up.
“If you don’t resolve this now, you won’t be able to sleep tonight, and you’ll be in pain again tomorrow. By the day after, you’ll be hurting from tomorrow’s pain too. And we have to go all the way to Lyussenford; you’ll only swell up again.”
His hands, once delicate but now thick and calloused from the sword, were placed quietly on the blanket. Underneath lay her legs, aching from the swelling.
Kaella bowed her head deeply.
“My thinking was shallow. I apologize.”
He meant that if the Grand Duchess was ailing while traveling, the procession would be delayed. Kaella hurriedly pulled back the blanket and began to massage her legs. Her refined, noble hands pressed clumsily over her nightgown.
An old habit surfaced. The heartbreaking unrequited love that made her adjust her actions in the hope of being looked at just once, trying so hard to be a help rather than a burden. She felt ashamed and sorry for causing trouble—a harmful emotion that made her forget her resolve to quit, even after promising herself countless times.
*I clearly promised myself I wouldn’t care.*
But why did she feel embarrassed and apologize for being a nuisance? So what if she was? He was someone else’s man; what did it matter if he thought her pathetic? She chided herself and kneaded the painful spots.
“No, that’s not what I meant.”
Peon, clearly flustered, wiped his mouth and stopped her clumsy hands. Even then, he dared not make physical contact. In the bridal chamber, everything was cautious. Having moved closer, he met her eyes and said softly, “I meant that I wanted to help because the upcoming schedule will be difficult. I was asking for your permission. Let me do it.”
She had no immunity to such soft words. Kaella shook her head.
“I, I can do it.”
She couldn’t bring herself to accept. She was trying to keep her wits about her, knowing she shouldn’t receive anything anymore. The hands pressing on her own calves tightened, her knuckles turning white.
“Kaella.”
Unlike her, who was trying hard to play the part of the Grand Duchess, he continued to treat her without reserve. He no longer adjusted his tone as he used to.
“If you do it like that, only your hands will hurt more.”
He seemed to be the only one with any composure. Well, the one scurrying about, watching his expression in fear, was naturally only Kaella.
“I will make sure it is not unpleasant.”
He asked for permission carefully. “If it is unpleasant, kick me away.”
There was no way she could ever kick Peon away. Kaella, with a troubled expression, set her aching hands down.
“Relax.”
She nodded involuntarily and averted her gaze. His large hand smoothed the blanket, covering her up to her knees as if to say he would only touch that far. Then, he began to press down, starting from her thighs. As the tightly knotted muscles began to creak, a groan escaped her lips, and Kaella gripped the blanket tightly. It was so painful!
“Does it hurt? I’m sorry. I’ll be gentler.”
He had been relatively soft, but seeing the young lady groan to the point of fainting, a flustered Peon loosened his grip.
“No, it’s, it’s fine.”
Everything is fine. The absurd situation of him massaging her legs, the fact that she had died and gotten married—it was all fine. Pouring her heart into it was useless anyway. She did not want to assign meaning to his consideration.
“Still.”
On their wedding night, while massaging his new bride’s legs, he said in a calm, composed manner, “It hurts, doesn’t it, Bi?”
It was a joke tinged with a slight smile. But his large hands, a little warmer than normal body temperature, touched her legs without any ulterior motives. *Right. It seems he really just wants to help.* Kaella thought it was fortunate that she reminded herself not to assign meaning to anything related to Peon. Then, she let go of that thought as well, groaning at the pain that followed.
She couldn’t tell how long she had been walking with her whole body rigid; the hardened muscles screamed as he pressed down. Kaella furrowed her brow and gripped the blanket as if tearing it apart.
“Take a deep breath. Inhale through your nose, and exhale deeply through your mouth. It will help.”
It was a little better. Even so, she had to forget about breathing and bite her lower lip. A light sweat beaded on her temples, and her leg flailed within Peon’s large hands. Each time that happened, he would wrap his hand around her slender ankle and pull it gently, soothing her.
“Breathe, Kaella.”
He whispered. His firm thumb pressed hard against her shin. Along with the pain that made her vision go white, the places where his fingers passed felt light and cool, so Kaella just entrusted everything to him.
“Even if it hurts, bear with it just a little. It’s better for later if you feel it all at once now.”
His purple eyes seemed to pity her. *No, that must be a misunderstanding.* His hands moved down to her feet with calm, or perhaps merciless, precision. It hurt so much she wanted him to stop, but Peon sighed, pressing down on the small foot that fit perfectly within one of his hands.
“You walked so long with these feet, so of course they hurt.”
“I didn’t walk for a long, ah…!”
She couldn’t even finish her sentence, and a moan leaked out. Why did it have to hurt this much? Some said people united on their wedding night, and others said they awoke to pleasure; but Kaella had spent her first in solitude, and in her second, she felt a strange, unprecedented pain. It was a pain mixed with relief, as she felt much lighter afterward.
“Don’t tear at the blanket, hold onto me.”
Peon took Kaella’s hands—which were gripping so hard her knuckles were white—and placed them on his shoulders.
“It, it will hurt….”
Seeing Kaella, who was struggling to maintain her formal tone even while in a state of confusion, Peon chuckled.
“You’ll have to build up a lot more grip strength if you want to hurt me.”
Why did she have two legs? One would have been enough; having the other made it difficult and embarrassing.
Kaella, unable to refuse, gripped his shoulders tightly to endure the pain. As he massaged her other leg, her body leaned further into him, more of her weight pressing against him. But Peon did not show the slightest sign of discomfort. His body felt like a heavy rock; her leaning had no impact at all.
“And Kaella. Call me whatever you want, and use whatever tone you like. Don’t be so constrained.”
Was it possible not to be constrained around him? Kaella thought it impossible. How could one not be constrained around a man who had been a sweet brother, only to turn cold and cut everything off, never looking back? Peon was unpredictable, his inner thoughts a mystery, and yet he was infinitely noble and so beautiful one could not help but admire him.
“When we are alone, you don’t have to follow the etiquette.”
He was pouring kind words into her ears—words he would never have said before she died and returned. He was thoughtful enough to massage her swollen legs despite the circumstances.
Was this a gift, given to her because she was so exhausted from false hope? Peon was so soft and warm that she wanted to believe that, but she was simultaneously filled with guard and terror, having no idea why he was doing this.
“Because I can adjust to you.”
There was no reply. Only ragged breathing, her soft hair brushing against his chin and neck, and the fragile weight leaning in a bit more. Peon soothed the struggling Kaella.
“Bear with it just a little. It will be much more comfortable to sleep.”
As soon as he applied a little more pressure, a scream burst out. Her frail hands pushed him away.
“Stop, stop…!”
She just wished he would stop. But the pain in the legs she had yielded to him grew increasingly intense. Kaella gasped for air, looked up at him, and pleaded.
“Please.”
Her voice, almost a whisper, sounded pathetic, mixed with ragged breaths.
“Please, stop….”
Peon, who had been watching her—tearful because it hurt so much—closed his eyes tightly for a moment and turned his head away. *Get a grip.* The spies would misunderstand the suggestive moans coming from this chamber and report them to the Emperor; he must not let any personal feelings mix in. He must not react to those tearful eyes.
“No. It’s almost finished.”
With a gasp, her sweat-soaked face fell backward. Peon supported her neck firmly, letting her lean entirely against him.
“It’s alright. You’ll feel refreshed once it’s done. Can’t you already feel the difference?”
To the person almost crying from the pain, these were truly annoying and hateful words, yet his voice sounded so soft.
The body she leaned on supported her sturdily. To Kaella, who had no place to rely on or put her heart, it was a tempting refuge, but in reality, it was not even a refuge. She would be lucky if she wasn’t cast out. Realizing she was enjoying leaning on him under the pretext of a massage, Kaella wanted to hit her own head. Her eyes turned red, and tears welled up.
“Breathe, Kaella. Breathe. Come on.”
She was completely disoriented. His strong hands gripped her legs firmly and would not let go.
“You might have a few bruises tomorrow.”
She nodded, closing her wet eyes tightly. Her blonde hair touched his shoulder and became disheveled. Her white, sweat-drenched forehead shone in the moonlight that had managed to seep through the curtains.
Kaella was in pain and embarrassed. If she had practiced horse riding more diligently, this situation wouldn’t have happened. With her eyes and cheeks flushed red, she covered her mouth to stop her sobbing. If she had known it would hurt this much, she wouldn’t have even started.
“It’s alright. We’re almost there.”
The touch of his hands as he massaged her calves, soothing her like a child, was not unpleasant. Every time his hands touched her, her muscles screamed exactly where it hurt, so there could be no other intention behind it. Moreover, Peon didn’t even look at her with such intent. She knew.
“It will be much better tomorrow morning. You’re enduring it well. No, relax, Kaella. Don’t tense your body; you have to relax. It hurts more if you don’t.”
If it were Beatrice, she wouldn’t have had to endure this embarrassing and shameful situation. She would have been more sophisticated. It was Kaella—rigid, unsophisticated, and ignorant—who was having such a ridiculous wedding night. Having been compared so often, Kaella felt tears welling up in the corners of her eyes.
Telling herself that this was all pointless and that it had nothing to do with her, she still felt too ashamed and pathetic to be letting out animalistic groans while tearing at Peon’s shoulders.
“You’re enduring it well.”
It was obvious, just looking at him soothing Kaella, who was much younger than Beatrice, like a child. She decided it was better this way. Since she had shown him such a sight, she could stop repeating her foolish actions, stop forgetting, and focus solely on her death.
Why did she always act so stupidly? Did she feel things had changed because the person who helped kill her father had now helped save her? Kaella was just so disgusted with herself for being unable to let go of this attachment.
“……la, Kaella?”
At his call, she suddenly looked up. She even forgot to breathe. Peon, who was much closer than she had thought, was looking at her with an inscrutable expression.
Kaella looked at him without realizing it. The moment their gazes tangled, she couldn’t avoid the purple eyes she had always avoided. As if ensnared, she remained fixed in place.
Tension, which had nothing to do with her, overwhelmed her late. It felt as if that tension was being transmitted from his eyes.
“Does it hurt a lot? I…… did I do it too roughly?”
His thick, low voice was directed entirely at her. The slight tremor in his voice might be because he, too, was feeling the same tension. Just like his voice, her lips, which were wet from her biting them, trembled.
“It’s fine…….”
Her trembling lips parted to whisper, but then cut off. Peon was pouring himself into her. The powerful signal he was sending overwhelmed her, making it impossible to even turn her gaze away. It was as if he wouldn’t allow her to look away.
He was commanding her to look, to look at him. If things continued this way, the distance would close, and finally, she would be swallowed whole.
*No, this isn’t right.*
However, a warning more powerful than Peon struck Kaella. Like someone pricked by a needle, she flinched, trembled, and turned her head away abruptly.
“Tha……thank you, thank you. I think I can sleep now. It feels much better.”
Forcing out a voice that wouldn’t even come out properly, she hurriedly pulled away from Peon. Her entire body felt stung, unable to even meet his eyes. It was clear that the Grand Duke’s icy gaze was looking at her as if he would swallow her whole. She had lost her mind.
Kaella’s face flushed late. How could the Grand Duke, who loved Beatrice, feel any tension toward her? She bowed her head, staring only at the quilt.
“It feels better?”
But the voice that reached her was much lower and filled with more heat than she had expected. Kaella looked up again, slightly.
“That’s a relief. Then go to sleep.”
Peon, who had risen from his seat, said while looking intently at her.
“Good night.”
“Yes, good night, Oppa…… too.”
The new bride answered, tense, while receiving her husband’s gaze. She watched him walk into the bathroom for a moment before she quickly laid down.
*His gaze, it felt like it was burning.*
It was strange. She tilted her head and closed her eyes. Her cheeks were burning, and she wanted to fall asleep before he returned.
Her legs felt light and cool. It was embarrassing because it felt like his warmth remained everywhere his hands had touched.
She closed her eyes forcibly. *Don’t be mistaken, it’s nothing,* she muttered to herself dozens of times.