It's truly my fault, I dragged myself into this mess. How I envy Alissia Verriton—her elder brother is already a Duke. Even unmarried, she has nothing to lose, no title hanging over her head.
Kayona inhaled slowly, letting the weight of her resolve settle in her chest.
Okay, Sylrick Kartegen. Let's play.
She turned, tilting her head in mock thoughtfulness.
"Actually… we are going to be married. But not under the same roof."
His eyes widened in disbelief, sharp as gold blades.
"Wait—what? We're not going to live together?"
Kayona's smile deepened, almost innocent.
"Yes. We'll get married, but the house remains separate."
He dragged a hand through his crimson hair, jaw tightening.
"What about my second request?"
"You mean the bed?" she said, tipping her head, eyes bright. "Yes, we'll share a bed… but never said we have to share a house."
Sylrick blinked.
"How is that even possible?"
"I am adjusting the terms. When we get married, I will only stay with you on the weekends. That would be convincing enough to the public for a very busy married couple. It would also give you the space to have a mistress to satisfy your… needs," Kayona replied.
His eyes flared with something dangerously close to desperation.
"So… you're trying to distance yourself from me?"
"Stop looking surprised, Sylrick. I don't always have to remind you that this marriage won't contain intimacy," Kayona replied smoothly. "You are yet to tell me why you blindly agreed to marry me. You just said… yes. Why?"
For a moment his expression wavered—caught between amusement and something darker.
"I accepted because I want you, Kayona. Isn't that enough?"
I can't even deal with this, Kayona thought.
She lifted her chin, voice crisp with forethought.
"After today, we won't see each other until the contract is signed."
Sylrick stepped forward and pulled her against him.
"Kayona… listen."
Her body stayed still. Her face remained blank.
He tightened his grip, golden eyes burning as though searching for something in hers. Words caught in his throat.
"Can you step back, when you're done?" she said meekly.
He froze. His hands clenched at her waist. His chest rose and fell faster. He swallowed, then tried again to speak.
Her gaze slid to Maxwell.
"Maxwell, that servant over there. Ask her to show me the dining room. We have lunch with your parents, after all."
The servant hurried forward. Maxwell followed without a word.
Sylrick's hands stayed on her waist for a moment longer. Then he slowly let go. His shoulders slumped. His eyes tracked her as she walked away. He stayed in place, silent, fists unclenched, heartbeat loud in the quiet hallway.
She walked ahead. He didn't follow.
***
Aleho Geerich sat at a marble-topped table in the corner of the café, the kind of establishment where chandeliers glittered even at midday and the scent of imported beans filled the air.
The Gazette lay open in his hands, its bold headline practically screaming across the page:
The Archduchess of Obregón Engaged to Lord Sylrick Kartegen.
He hadn't turned the page in nearly ten minutes.
A silver tray clinked softly against the table as Najeel, Aleho's personal assistant, returned with a fresh cup of steaming coffee. He set it down with both hands, bowing his head slightly before speaking in his precise, measured tone.
"My lord, you have been perusing the same article for an extended duration," Najeel observed, hands clasped neatly behind his back.
Aleho's eyes lingered on Kayona's name, one gloved finger tapping the paper in a slow, deliberate rhythm. At last, he folded the Gazette with careful precision and leaned back in his chair.
"So," he murmured, almost to himself, "are you calling me weird for reading an article that's three days old?"
Najeel inclined his head, voice unwaveringly polite.
"I would never dare make such an implication, my lord. It was merely an observation born of concern."
Aleho waved a dismissive hand.
"Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Where's my sister?"
"Lady Carissa requested a short interlude of solitude, my lord," Najeel replied, spine straight as a rod. "She expressed the intention of procuring a gift."
"She has a boyfriend?! Since when did she start keeping things from me?" Aleho slouched back in his chair, dragging a sulky groan into the word boyfriend.
Najeel opened his mouth to clarify, but a familiar voice cut across the café.
"Brother! I'm back."
Carissa Geerich swept toward them, the sunlight spilling through tall windows catching the sheen of her perfectly tailored silver gown. Her long, dark-green hair flowed behind her like a silken banner, and when she drew close, her golden eyes shone brightly against her warm brown skin.
"Did you miss me, big bro?" she teased, looping her arms around his shoulders from behind.
"Why did you dismiss my right hand?" Aleho scolded, gesturing toward Najeel. "Do you know how unsafe it is for someone with your status to wander alone in public?"
"I won't do it again, I promise," Carissa said with a laugh, tightening her grip playfully.
"That's what you said last month, after nearly being abducted by a robber—"
"Ahem. Hope I'm not interrupting your sibling bonding, Lord Aleho."
Aleho stiffened at the voice. His jaw tightened, disdain layering his features as he turned.
"This pest. What does he want from me now?"
Duke Matteo Verriton strode forward with his usual bullish swagger.
"I'm sorry," he said, all teeth and mockery, "but your little family moment was so cute, I couldn't resist stopping by."
Without waiting for an invitation, he dragged out a chair and sat across from Aleho, resting his arms casually on the table's edge.
"Your arrival will attract flies to my table, Duke Verriton," Aleho drawled, his smile so polished it felt like mockery.
Matteo chuckled.
"Ha! Don't tell me you're still holding a grudge about my marriage proposal to your sister."
Carissa arched a brow, sliding gracefully into the empty chair beside them. She set a small box on the table—her newly purchased cake—and smoothed her gown with unhurried poise.
"An overly corny man like you doesn't deserve a wife," she said flatly.
Matteo's grin sharpened. He leaned back in his chair, eyes flicking between Aleho and Carissa before landing on the still-folded Gazette. His fingers tapped it once.
"Our dear Archduchess has made quite the… bold choice, don't you think?"
Aleho said nothing, his smile frozen and dangerous.
"This could have been your sister," Matteo went on smoothly, "if she had only agreed to my proposal."
Carissa's golden eyes glinted like steel.
"I'd rather marry a corpse."
Matteo barked a laugh.
"I can't be worse than the Emperor—who, as we all know, is impotent."
The words hung in the café like a blade drawn across silk—too sharp, too sudden. Conversations at nearby tables faltered. Aleho's gloved fingers stilled against the armrest.
And for the first time that afternoon, Najeel broke his careful silence. His voice remained impeccably polite, yet edged with warning.
"My lord… shall I have the Duke escorted out?"