The Murderous Duke's Domestic Affairs - Chapter 64

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 64
The sun had long since risen, and it was already midday, yet the Crown Prince’s Bedchamber remained shrouded in darkness. A solitary shadow rose from the bed and approached the window with unhurried steps. A large hand drew back the curtains halfway, and brilliant light spilled into the dim room.
The Crown Prince swept his disheveled hair back and squinted at the world beyond the glass. Snow had fallen throughout the night, blanketing everything in white—an auspicious sign. On the day of the Winter Gathering, when all the Empire’s noble ladies convened, cold weather and lingering snow promised a bountiful harvest, a blessing for the Empire itself. Of course, it was equally fortuitous for him personally.
“This Winter Gathering should prove quite entertaining.”
Abarid twisted his lips into a smirk and murmured in a low voice. Last night, a communication artifact had glowed for the first time in ages. Naturally, given that cursed “twin” connection, the voice had been infuriatingly identical to Aster’s. His irritation was brief, however, for the message itself proved intriguing. What was it again? Something about the Duchess of Lilywood making an effort to attend the Winter Gathering.
Though she hailed from a humble marquis house, Lauren Siaz was nonetheless a noblewoman. Yet in gatherings that all aristocrats attended, Abarid had never once laid eyes on her. A beauty of such caliber would not have escaped his notice, so she simply must not have attended. That explained her unfamiliarity with High Society. It was almost amusing—a duchess going to such lengths, actually making an “effort” to participate in a social gathering.
“…Your Highness?”
A woman’s drowsy voice emerged from deeper within the bed. Abarid turned and approached, his gaze falling upon the feminine form wrapped in thin blankets, her skin luminous in the bright sunlight. He brought his hand to her cheek with feigned tenderness, and she languidly nuzzled against his palm.
“Delania.”
His low voice spoke her name softly, and she responded with a satisfied laugh. Her hair, catching the sunlight, gleamed a rich brown. Abarid’s brow furrowed almost imperceptibly. In the darkness, it had appeared black. Somehow, that disappointed him slightly.
“Aren’t you cold?”
With a tender gesture, he drew the blanket around her shoulders. Accustomed to such affectations, she leaned her body against his bare chest. The soft warmth of her skin against his own pleased him, and he chuckled quietly. Her small, rounded shoulders fit perfectly in the palm of his hand.
“Shouldn’t you be leaving soon?”
“Mm.”
Delania Siaz asked with reluctance, still leaning against him. Abarid emitted a low sound—hardly an answer, yet she sighed deeply nonetheless. The Crown Prince’s mistress. For an unmarried woman, it was an inappropriate relationship, yet what did it matter? It was far preferable to some elderly man’s remarriage in pursuit of an heir.
Wrapped in blankets and reclining against the headboard, Delania Siaz watched quietly as Abarid prepared to depart. Though he was of the Imperial family and destined to become the next Emperor, he required no assistance in arranging his appearance.
Clad in a simple shirt and trousers, his refined features remained entirely undiminished. Hair the color of moonlight drawn into thread—platinum blonde. Eyes like spheres of pure gold set directly into his face. Yet his superiority extended beyond mere appearance. He was tall, his voice was exquisite, and above all, he stood at the very center of power as the Crown Prince.
A mistress of high nobility had to be someone’s wife. An unmarried lady could never become a mistress—such a thing was unthinkable. These arrangements existed for mutual pleasure, or so it was said. In ancient times, beautiful girls had been taken by force, and mistresses had harmed legitimate wives with alarming frequency. Thus, these conditions had been established as a minimum safeguard.
But the Crown Prince was unmarried! Delania Siaz’s heart raced. Of course, she knew he had an old betrothed. Yet that was hardly a significant concern to her. The Crown Prince’s marriage had been extraordinarily delayed, after all. How could such an affectionate man not have married his betrothed? Surely it was because their hearts did not align. The very fact that he had kept a mistress even before meeting her proved as much.
But what of herself? Abarid clearly favored her. How warm were those golden eyes that curved so beautifully whenever he gazed upon her? How tender was his touch, as though caressing the most precious thing in the world? He had not hesitated to bestow upon her every dress she had admired, every jewel she had desired.
The Crown Prince loved her and cherished her. That much was certain. If so, then surely her prospects of becoming Crown Princess were higher than those of a betrothed he did not even seek out.
“What shall you do today, Delania?”
Ah, such warm words. Those brilliant golden eyes turned toward her, sparkling with such radiance that Delania Siaz found herself smiling without thought. No one had ever asked what she intended to do. Not her father, not her brother. Falling for a handsome, affectionate Crown Prince was only natural.
“Well, I suppose I have no particular plans. Your Highness, is there something you’d like me to do?”
At her words, Abarid smiled broadly—a transparent, playful expression. The face of a man named Abarid, not the Crown Prince. She was likely the only woman who had ever witnessed the Crown Prince wear such an expression. Her heart trembled, and she placed a hand over her chest, wanting to praise herself for reading his desires so perfectly.
“I have a favor to ask. Would you mind?”
“Of course not! Please, just tell me.”
Delania Siaz summoned her most radiant smile. But upon hearing Abarid’s “favor,” she could smile no longer.
* * *
Lauren turned to Jasmine Aloria once more for assistance. Fortunately, neither the Empress nor the Imperial Princess proved difficult, but the noble ladies attending the Winter Gathering were another matter entirely. As those who dominated High Society, avoiding their notice required far greater effort than before.
Without warning, memories of that first gathering in childhood surfaced unbidden. Those voices mimicking raven calls—”caw, caw”—filled her mind repeatedly throughout the day, only to fade away. The braces fastened to her shoulders and back were, in truth, preferable to those voices.
Yet I was no longer that person. I was not the ignorant young girl who had dreamed of social gatherings without Delania Siaz, without mockery. I possessed the knowledge gained from managing my fiefdom, the power that came with the title of Duchess. I clenched my fists. Now I could do anything. I simply needed to keep my composure. This was no time for sighs. I breathed slowly and deeply. To avoid becoming a duchess in name alone, to ensure I was not dismissed as laughable, there was simply too much to prepare.
“As I’ve said before, you needn’t force yourself to participate.”
Oh. My working hands stilled. Aster had managed to concern himself with me again. Reclining against the long chair, he murmured softly. I let out a dry laugh.
I knew Aster would say such things. He understood well how difficult it was for me to meet people—he had rescued me from Delania Siaz’s presence and from the Ball itself. If I could heed his words, how wonderful that would be. Yet I could not simply refuse to attend because I wished not to.
Still, if his words did not strengthen my resolve, that would be a lie. I felt his steadfast presence behind me, supporting me.
“But I am a duchess. I must set an example for others.”
“Few people attend these gatherings with such noble intentions.”
“I want to do well, regardless.”
Somehow, a sigh mingles with my words. Those mocking “caw, caw” sounds fill my mind once more. I should have forgotten such things by now. I know that standing beside Aster, no one can touch me. Yet the memory of past wounds does not fade easily. I find myself repeatedly confronting the truth: I am such a fragile person.
“Looking at it objectively, you’re quite the perfectionist.”
Even now, studying etiquette while wearing a back brace—Aster murmured softly as he signed the document in his hand and set it on the table. It was the last document of the day. A receipt confirmation for the handcrafted goods produced in the Territory over winter, or perhaps a settlement record based on those receipts. Whatever it was, I felt a small measure of joy.
The idea to create handcrafted goods from the Lilywood Dukedom’s sturdy timber and use them as winter work had been my suggestion. Because Aster accepted it, the people of the Dukedom found employment during the off-season and earned money, however modest. The document he had just signed and set down was proof of that.
Though others might dismiss and belittle me, Aster did not. More than anything else, I was grateful for that. Just as I had realized when I first began working that I could help the people of the Territory, perhaps that was why I felt so buoyed now.
“You’re the same way, aren’t you?”
“Me?”
Aster questioned my words. I looked at him and laughed softly. He appeared indifferent, yet he scrutinized every single document without carelessness. The Lilywood Dukedom was overwhelmingly larger than the Marquis Territory where I had lived.
From such a vast Territory, even the smallest reports arrived—a village storehouse buried under snow, a landslide that buried several homes—and Aster remembered each one, receiving follow-up reports on them all. How could such a person be anything but a perfectionist? Yet Aster himself did not seem to think so.
“I have to be this way. I am….”
His voice trailed off before he could finish. Leaning deeply against the long chair, he smiled faintly. Deep lines were etched between his brows. What was he thinking? His smile seemed to carry a hint of pain, so without thinking, I leaned forward and reached across the table, brushing my fingertips against the furrow between his brows. Startled, Aster flinched and pulled back. I was equally shocked.
“…I’m, I’m sorry.”
I apologized hastily. Aster, within my line of sight, raised his hand to cover the spot I had touched, but one eye remained visible above his large hand, gleaming in a vivid emerald green. I could not meet that gaze and lowered my head deeply. He must be displeased. I, merely someone who worked alongside him, had touched him as though I were something more.
“It’s time for Jasmine Aloria to arrive. I should get up.”
I could not remain sitting across from him. I rose to my feet. Offering a flimsy excuse, I fled the Office like a coward. The door closed behind me with a soft thud.
Aster did not stop me. He simply gazed at the door through which she had vanished, frozen in place and unable to move. Only after a long moment did he slowly lower his head. He had thought he must not harbor her in his heart, yet Lauren shook his composure without warning, just as she had now.
He wished she had not run away. Aster bit his lip. Lauren preferred to keep her distance from him. That was an undeniable fact. But why did her every action shake him so? What did I even want? Aster could not fathom his own heart.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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