In the original story, Kian Blake was fed Sky Grass, mistaken for Flame Grass, while he was burning up with fever, nearly killing him. That’s why Duke Reidox felt guilty toward Kian and treated him better afterward. So I had already instructed Durion to procure Flame Grass in advance.
Sky Grass and Flame Grass look so similar that they’re hard to distinguish, but they can be told apart by their subtle scent differences. Durion, known for his nose like a bloodhound, would surely have identified them correctly.
Kian’s small, fern-like hands were covered in calluses, cracked and split in several places.
It pained me. How much hardship must this child have endured for his hands to end up like this?
“Sikar. Could you get me some Andiroba oil?”
“You mean the Andiroba from the tropical rainforest?”
“Yes. I need that. Is it very difficult to obtain?”
“It’s not hard to get.”
“Then please get some. I need to apply it to Kian’s hands.”
“For something like that, you don’t necessarily need oil. There are plenty of potions at the ducal residence.”
‘Ah, right—this world has potions.’
The moment we arrived at the ducal residence, the servants—who naturally assumed we’d gone on a trip—followed us in surprise when they saw Sikar carrying a child. But at Sikar’s sharp command to leave immediately, they vanished without a trace.
Without even time to change out of my dress, I followed Sikar into Kian’s room, which had been prepared in advance. Not long after, Durion appeared and handed Sikar the Flame Grass and a potion.
At Sikar’s gesture signaling he could leave, Durion bowed to us and exited the room.
Sikar personally fed Kian the Flame Grass and sprinkled potion onto his callused hands. We then held our breath, silently watching for Kian to wake.
After a while, Kian began to open his eyes drowsily. Then, suddenly, like a startled animal, he darted to the corner of the room, flattened himself against the floor, and emitted small flames from both hands.
As the son of a fire spirit master, Kian was skilled with fire. Him summoning fire spirits from his hands meant he harbored hostility toward us.
“It’s okay. We won’t hurt you.”
Even after I said that, Kian didn’t seem reassured; his eyes darted around, scanning for an escape route.
Sikar frowned at Kian, who held flames in both hands, then turned to me and said,
“If that brat doesn’t learn to behave, he won’t survive long.”
To calm Kian, I held out my palms and smiled gently.
“Kian. We’re the ones who found you collapsed and saved you. We truly won’t harm you.”
I withdrew my warm gaze from Kian and roughly pulled Sikar toward me.
“You know the whole point of adopting him is for you to become a good father, right?”
“Of course.”
“But how can you say things like that? We need to show him we can take good care of him!”
“I won’t tolerate bad manners in my house. If he misbehaves, I’ll punish him without mercy.”
That’s not discipline—that’s intimidation.
I must’ve asked too much of Sikar, who at twenty-two had never even seen a child, let alone known how to handle one.
“Since we agreed to adopt Kian together and raise him well, promise me just this one thing.”
“What promise?”
“Promise me you’ll listen to me whenever it concerns Kian. That’s the only way we can raise him properly.”
Sikar didn’t answer immediately—he seemed to think for a moment, then nodded indifferently.
“Fine. But you fix that habit of his too.”
“I will, but you have to treat him warmly.”
Sikar paused as if considering, then gave a slight nod to signal agreement.
‘Whew. He’s not easy to persuade.’
I approached the corner where Kian was hiding, extending my hand alongside Sikar.
Though Kian held his flame-emitting hands up like a beast raising its claws, his eyes were filled with fear.
“We’re the ones who found you collapsed on the road during this bitter winter. We couldn’t possibly leave you to freeze to death. If we meant to harm you, we wouldn’t have brought you here.”
Kian still didn’t extinguish the flames in his hands, as if his suspicion hadn’t lifted.
His fearful eyes stared at me, as if trying to read my heart.
“Will you really… not hurt me…?”
Though constantly exposed to death and afraid of strangers, a faint glimmer of hope flickered in his eyes—as if we might actually be good people.
During his cold, hungry, lonely, and terrifying life, Kian must have desperately longed for a safe haven where he could rest both body and soul.
“Of course. We won’t hurt you. Never.”
Kian pointed at Sikar with wary eyes.
“But that mister…?”
“Yes. That’s because he’s still awkward at dealing with people.”
Kian wore a thoughtful expression, but didn’t seem fully convinced.
“Anyway, you’re injured, sick, and very hungry right now. You need treatment. Won’t you stay here so we can take care of you?”
Kian glanced cautiously at Sikar, then carefully nodded—and only then extinguished the flames in his hands.
‘Whew. Thank goodness.’
“To get along well with us, you’ll need to make an effort too. From now on, don’t just randomly spew fire from your hands. Can you promise me that?”
Kian glanced again at Sikar, who responded by slightly lifting then lowering his scabbard—as if to say he’d draw his sword if Kian summoned fire again.
Kian briefly scowled at Sikar but then carefully nodded again when he looked at me.
At least it ended neatly.
Perhaps because Kian’s body hadn’t fully recovered, after falling asleep again, he showed no signs of waking even the next day.
After leaving Kian’s room, I had breakfast with Sikar. Having barely slept last night while tending to Kian, I was half-asleep even as I ate.
Perhaps for that reason, Sikar suddenly dismissed all the servants during the meal and turned to me.
“You clearly know nothing about dining etiquette. The whole roast in the center isn’t for you to carve yourself—you must ask a servant to slice it for you.”
Ah, he waited until the servants were gone so they wouldn’t hear and look down on me.
This wasn’t really consideration for me—it was because I’m his wife.
“You’ll need to learn dining etiquette from me from now on.”
I didn’t want to learn anything from Sikar. It was obvious he’d teach by threatening to kill me at every turn.
Do I really have to risk my life just to learn table manners?
“Couldn’t you just assign me a tutor? Or give me some books on the subject? I learn theoretical concepts faster than practical skills.”
“So that’s why you received so much practical training during your early childhood education?”
Ugh… Talking to someone who reads all your memories is exhausting. You can’t lie to them.
Sikar smirked, lifting one corner of his mouth.
“You know what kind of person I am, yet you still thought about lying to me? Foolish.”
I’m quick to admit defeat. So I immediately backed down.
“Fine. I’ll study hard.”
“Jin Yura.”
Jin Yura. That was my name.
When Sikar suddenly called me by name, I felt a strange sensation—not pleasantly strange, but strangely unsettling, like hearing your name called right before execution.
“Uh…?”
“You have weak digestion. Meat takes you a long time to digest.”
He knew that without me having to explain… Maybe reading my memories isn’t entirely bad?
“Therefore, always take digestive medicine when you eat meat. It’s unbecoming for a duchess to burp frequently.”
“I-I can handle that myself…!”
“But you mishandled it before—when your crush confessed, you burped instead of accepting his confession. And your very first kindergarten teaching practicum? You said, ‘Hello, kids… *burp*…’ Doing that here would be very problematic.”
…Please just forget those things! Reading memories really isn’t good.
It was so embarrassing to calmly recount those cringe-worthy black-history moments with a straight face that I couldn’t even lift my head.
‘Did he dismiss everyone just to say that?’
It wasn’t the meat—I doubted I could digest anything with Sikar around. I carefully stood up.
“Dessert hasn’t even been served yet. Where are you going?”
“I don’t think I can eat dessert, so I’m leaving now.”
As I turned to leave the dining room, a sharp, dull sound made me look back—a steak knife was embedded in the table.
“There’s still much to discuss. Sit down.”
Apparently, leading with a knife is definitely Sikar’s conversational style.
My hands trembled as I returned to my seat.
“I thought… I could rest a bit first and it wouldn’t be too late…”
I forced a smile despite my awkwardness. The constant intimidation was making me unconsciously more submissive.
Maybe Sikar starts conversations with a knife because he’s so skilled at manipulating people’s psychology.
His memory-reading ability means he knows people’s weaknesses all too well.
Sikar put a piece of fruit pudding in his mouth and said,
“As you know, the king is searching for Kian. In the novel, Duke Reidox doesn’t hide the royal crest on Kian’s nape.”
In the original, the royal crest was the mark by which Duke Reidox recognized Kian as royalty.
Knowing King Gillian was searching for Kian, the duke went to his friend to conceal the crest.
Hiding the crest itself wasn’t difficult, but since it marked royalty, he needed someone trustworthy—that person was the duke’s friend, the mage Jeremi Iker.
But to do that, we’d first need to meet Reidox—and Sikar and Reidox had a very poor relationship.
Both Sikar and I knew this fact, so I spoke bluntly.
“Since you and Reidox don’t get along, I’ll go.”
“What do you plan to say? Reidox might inform Gillian that Kian is here.”
In the original, Lucy, Reidox’s daughter and the female lead, frequently wandered off saying she missed her mother. I planned to use that to persuade Reidox.
“When Lucy goes out saying she misses her mother, I’ll find her and bring her home. That way, we’ll naturally grow closer.”
Sikar nodded approvingly.
“Not a bad idea.”
“The duke is kind and loves children very much. This is our best option.”
“Fine. We’ll do it that way.”
“And when Kian wakes up, you should be the one to feed him.”
I stood up after saying that, but Sikar paused, looking at me as if I’d said something absurd.
“You want me to feed Kian? He’s not a three-year-old brat—he’s seven!”
“You need to bond with him if you’re going to be a father. Taking good care of him when he’s sick builds trust.”
Sikar averted his eyes as if telling me not to say ridiculous things.
“I’ve never fed a child anything.”
“You promised to fully follow my advice on childcare, and I told you taking good care of him when he’s sick is most effective!”
His gaze, which had been avoiding me, now turned into a glare. I nervously watched to see if his hand would reach for a dagger.
Oh no, he’s terrifying when he looks at me like that.
“Come here, beside me.”
“Why…?”
“I don’t know how to feed a child, so I’ll look at your memories.”
‘Ugh, here we go again—hand-holding time.’
Though grumbling inwardly, I weakly went to sit beside Sikar and offered my arm as if it were routine.
After so many times, I was indeed getting used to it.
Sikar grabbed my arm again and began reading my memories. But he didn’t just read them.
He picked up a spoon, dipped it into the pudding in front of me, and tried to put it in my mouth.
Startled, I quickly pulled my head back and asked,
“What—what are you doing?”
“Practicing.”
It was embarrassing. I worried this seemingly sane lunatic might shove not just pudding but the spoon itself into my mouth—and above all, it was deeply uncomfortable.
“Won’t you take it?”
‘Better to just eat it before he pulls out a knife again.’
Reluctantly, I opened my mouth and accepted the pudding he offered—but I couldn’t taste its deliciousness at all.
Really uncomfortable.
“Let’s try once more.”
Sikar has a habit of learning things obsessively. When he practices swordsmanship, he won’t stop until he’s fully mastered the technique.
So apparently, he’d keep spoon-feeding me pudding until his body memorized the motion.
“Hey. I really can’t eat any more.”
“Fine. Then I’ll call Vika Lamberst to feed me.”
If that’s what he’s going to do, he should’ve just practiced with Vika from the start! I was worried he’d stubbornly refuse, so I was relieved he was at least making an effort to feed Kian.
“Well then, I think I’ve done my part, so I’ll be going.”
“But you.”
Why is he calling me again?
I forced a smile, trying my best not to sound irritated.
“Hmm?”
“You cried when I died.”
Ah, he’s referring to the scene where I shed tears when Sikar died.
Before I could even confirm it, he asked me,
“Do you like me?”
“…Hmm?”
When scheming men desperately battle for her favor in the male harem
This one’s also on my reread list! The rivalry, scheming between the men in the imperial harem are just as intense and thrilling as in classic palace drama novels, where concubines fight to the death. Give it a read, girls! I promise you won’t be disappointed.
Synopsis:
“I am not worthy of her… but I still want to be by her side, even if only as a loyal dog…”
Those were the painful whispers of Yue Guanyi – the proud Crown Prince of the Great Qi, who was torn between deep love and a guilty conscience. Despite holding the supreme power of the Imperial Guard, he still could not forget the dark past when he was sold into a brothel.
Fate played a cruel twist when Qiu Shuzhi – a young female official who had just passed the imperial examinations with top honors – stepped into his life. She did not know that she was the one who had saved him from a tragic fate many years ago. And now, her heart was the target of pursuit for both Yue Guanyi and the powerful Empress Dowager Qin Qing.
While Yue Guanyi only dared to silently care for and protect the one he loved from afar, the Empress Dowager Qin Qing openly expressed his feelings and did not hesitate to take advantage of his power to approach Qiu Shuzhi. The covert struggle between the two most powerful forces in the imperial court began…
Trigger warning: All men in this novel are yandere style.
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