Even though he had only said he would kiss me, my heart was already pounding as if we had already kissed.

I shouldn’t give my heart away so easily. Even if I come to like him, I never wanted to show my feelings so readily.

“Don’t think you can kiss me using such an excuse.”

“They say deliberately making someone more anxious by rejecting them is called ‘mil dang’. Don’t even think about pulling that with me.”

“Didn’t I clearly tell you not to use that commanding tone?”

Sikar Blake twitched his eyes slightly, then spoke.

“Mil dang isn’t good.”

His expression wasn’t gentle, but seeing that he listened well, my lips curled up a little.

As my grandmother had said, I truly felt Sikar Blake listened quite well to his family’s words, and I also felt a strange sense of victory.

But Sikar Blake seemed to think I was smiling because I liked him—so naturally, he mirrored me by lifting the corners of his own mouth.

Fortunately, Roen didn’t go so far as to kiss Jeremi Iker before the dance ended.

Still, for some reason, after the dance ended, Jeremi Iker swayed as if he might faint at any moment.

Jeremi Iker hadn’t seen many women in his life, but a woman this bold and unrestrained was a first.

Even when he first saw her hand extended to invite him to dance, he vaguely felt it was a hand he shouldn’t take—and hesitated.

But when the Duke came beside him and nudged his foot, he couldn’t refuse her hand.

As far as he knew, Duke Sikar Blake was someone who would punish anyone who defied him, somehow or another.

Even if restrained by the Duchess in front, he’d still nudge your foot from behind.

Since the Sitars possessed strength several times greater than ordinary humans, had he applied just a little more pressure, Jeremi Iker’s toe bones would have shattered.

Shuddering at the thought, Jeremi Iker immediately seized Roen’s hand.

But then it struck him—perhaps the temple was just around the corner. Maybe he should’ve let a few toes break after all.

Roen was even more unrestrained and proactive than Jeremi Iker had imagined.

From the moment they began dancing, Roen’s single remark left Jeremi Iker unable to collect himself until the dance ended.

“Want to date me?”

“Huh?”

“It’s a perfect day for love. It’s the coming-of-age ceremony.”

Seeing Roen smile brightly and casually suggest dating as if it were nothing, Jeremi Iker felt dizzy.

“Well, maybe… but we just met today, how could…”

“So you’ll only date me if we meet again?”

“I suppose we’d need to meet a few more times…”

“Then, since you’ll probably end up dating me after a few more meetings anyway, why not start dating now? I don’t often dress this nicely. I’d rather start dating while I look like this.”

So, without thinking, he found himself saying, “Okay.” Thus, he’d come to work and somehow ended up with a girlfriend.

Jeremi Iker reflected carefully on his situation—himself, who owned nothing but a small two-story house.

He often claimed to have a small magic tower, but truthfully, it was more like a tiny shack than anything resembling a tower.

Even that consisted of a magic research lab on the first floor and, upstairs, only a small bed and desk where he could rest his body.

Since he was barely capable of taking care of himself, let alone someone else, he felt he should honestly mention this.

“Actually.”

“Yes?”

“I don’t have much.”

“Why are you suddenly saying that?”

“When people hear ‘mage,’ they assume you’re rich, impressive, and accomplished. But I have nothing. I tell people I have a small magic tower, but in truth, it’s just a tiny two-story shack. And above all, I’m still a low-class mage. Simply put, I have nothing to boast about.”

Though Jeremi Iker spoke as if tearing his own flesh, Roen merely smiled as if completely unconcerned.

“Don’t worry! I’ve got nothing either!”

Seeing Roen laugh so innocently and brightly while declaring she had nothing, Jeremi Iker felt bewildered yet somehow grateful for her words.

Roen stopped dancing and stood still as she spoke.

“When did I ever ask you for money? Money comes and goes. I don’t need that.”

“So you’re saying you like me with no conditions or desires…”

Roen immediately waved her hand as if to dismiss that notion.

“Of course not. How could anyone like someone without expecting anything in return?”

“Then what do you want from me…”

Unlike Jeremi Iker, who spoke cautiously, Roen answered cheerfully and boldly with a bright face.

“A kiss!”

At that moment, Jeremi Iker thought:

This woman really wants to kiss, doesn’t she?

“I just need you to kiss me well.”

“Well, that’s not much, but I’ll try. So… is there nothing else you want?”

“Well, if possible, someone like that man over there would be even more impressive.”

“That man…?”

“Over there—Lord Sika.”

Roen gazed at Sikar Blake with starry, admiring eyes, as if beholding the most magnificent man in the world.

“He’s so considerate and gentle. Didn’t you see? The moment Lady Yura Blake spat out her juice, he immediately wiped her lips. How envious I was! If I ever get a lover, I hope they’re that thoughtful and caring.”

Since Roen was staring at Yura Blake with such envy, Jeremi Iker glanced sideways at Sikar Blake.

Sikar Blake was pouring wine for Yura Blake while gently tucking her hair behind her ear.

“Look at that—he’s tucking her hair behind her ear. How rare to find a man so tender and thoughtful?”

Watching silently, Jeremi Iker also thought the Duke was truly an unusual man.

Each time he saw it, he still couldn’t believe the Duke—so notoriously fierce among others—could appear so gentle toward the Duchess.

“Dropping hair into your wine and drinking it isn’t proper even in your world, is it?”

Ah, was it?

I’d only ever drunk beer or soju before; this was my first time tasting wine since arriving here.

I’d always wondered why people paid so much for alcohol, but after sipping wine here, I understood why people sought it despite the high price.

Moreover, since it had been so long since I last drank, I felt revitalized as alcohol coursed through my veins.

Perhaps because I was too absorbed in the wine, I unknowingly dropped a handful of hair into my wine glass.

Sikar Blake then tucked my hair behind my ear.

“Already drunk after just one glass?”

“Don’t worry. I didn’t drink enough to get drunk.”

“It’s fine if you get drunk, but don’t drop hair into your wine glass.”

“Oh. I’ve told you twice today already not to use that tone.”

“Don’t drop it in.”

He spoke firmly, but I knew habits weren’t easily broken. Still, if I kept scolding him without giving up, he’d eventually change.

“If you’re likely to drop more hair into your wine glass, I should tuck this side back too.”

Sikar Blake tucked my remaining loose strand behind my other ear.

“By the way, don’t you drink wine?”

“I don’t drink alcohol.”

It was surprising—Sikar Blake’s personality seemed the type to guzzle alcohol straight from an oak barrel, yet he abstained.

“You don’t drink alcohol? That’s astonishing. How can you not drink?”

“Alcohol makes people weak.”

“Doesn’t it make people stronger? I always thought alcohol made people braver—it removes fear and gives courage. That’s why people say things they normally wouldn’t.”

“That’s not courage—it’s impaired judgment. Do you know what happens when soldiers are given alcohol on the battlefield?”

“What happens?”

“At first, everyone rejoices—dancing, laughing, chatting, creating a cheerful atmosphere. But gradually, voices rise as they vent accumulated grievances, and eventually, they end up sobbing uncontrollably, hugging each other. Ultimately, alcohol makes people weaker the more they drink. I will never allow myself to become weak.”

That was likely because Sikar Blake had lived since childhood believing he must remain unyieldingly strong to protect his family. Thus, he probably lived his entire life without laughing or crying.

“But we’re human. Humans can show weakness. I believe we can comfort each other precisely because we’re all weak. My weakness might be someone else’s strength, and someone else’s weakness might be my strength—so we protect each other’s vulnerabilities with our strengths.”

“That doesn’t apply to me.”

“You’re weak toward me.”

Sikar Blake, who had been listening silently, glanced at me as if asking what I meant.

“Weak toward you? What are you talking about?”

“You hate seeing me hurt, don’t you?”

“If you’re hurt, it’s troublesome. Of course I hate it.”

“You hate seeing me hurt, hate seeing me starve, hate seeing me have nightmares—you hate all of it.”

“That’s natural. You’re my wife, and I’m responsible for you.”

“So you’re weak toward me. If I were hurt, wouldn’t you feel sad? That sadness would be your weakness. We’re weak toward each other, and that’s why we comfort each other.”

Though his tone wasn’t gentle, Sikar Blake tucked my hair—fallen below my ear—back behind it as he spoke.

“Your words seem to mean weakness felt toward something precious.”

Weakness felt toward something precious…

I grasped Sikar Blake’s hand as he tucked my hair behind my ear.

“So you’re saying I’m precious to you now?”

Sikar Blake’s eyes, which had been gazing down at me indifferently and unmoved, trembled slightly.

“Of course everything of mine is precious. Is there anyone who doesn’t value what belongs to them?”

“So you’re saying I belong to you. Right now.”

His gaze, which had looked down at me unmoved as if stating the obvious, now felt slightly warm.

“Because you’re my wife.”

“So you’re saying you like me?”

“Of course.”

His answer came so easily and confidently that I was utterly stunned.

No, this wasn’t how I wanted him to answer. I’d wanted to see him admit he liked me, as if surrendering his broken pride to me.

Yet Sikar Blake said “Of course” with such unwavering confidence.

“Are you that moved?”

I certainly didn’t look moved. Could he really call my dumbfounded expression “moved”?

Before I could even say anything, Sikar Blake pulled my hand and said,

“Then let me move you even more.”

Then he wrapped his arm around my waist and kissed me.