Was it because of the alcohol? Or was it because of the chilly early spring breeze brushing past?

The embrace felt warm. As the soft lips and skin gently moistened my mouth, my eyelids grew heavy and drooped.

Those lips, invading as if to swallow me whole, repeatedly pulled away only to return again.

When his lips seemed about to leave me, I grew anxious; when they touched mine again, I felt as if I might melt from their sweetness.

Gradually, I sank into him, as though sharing a profound, intimate connection.

As he slowly pulled his lips away and looked down at me, he gently lifted his head—just as fireworks burst above us, as if perfectly timed.

At that moment, I realized.

This was my first love, my first kiss.

Whether it was from the wine or from the kiss just now, I couldn’t tell—but my face burned hot, and the drunkenness surged through me.

Sikar Blake wrapped his arms around me as I swayed unsteadily. My eyes half-closed in the cozy, sweet warmth.

I must have drunk too much wine after all. My tolerance isn’t usually this low—it must be because I haven’t had alcohol in so long.

I almost wished I could just faint right here—but though my mind felt half-gone, I was somehow still perfectly lucid.

He, too, looked slightly flushed, perhaps from the kiss.

“Since the sun’s already setting, and as you wished, Roen seems to be getting along well with Jeremi Iker, I think it’s time we leave.”

Sikar Blake, standing with the sunset behind him, had a face so vividly flushed it dazzled me, stealing my breath.

His gaze, so openly watching me, felt like it could read my heart—I turned my eyes away.

“I’m a bit tired from not sleeping well, but I’m not that drunk.”

“Your face is bright red—anyone would say you’re completely drunk. Your eyes are half-lidded… it looks like your soul’s either wandered off, or wandered straight to me.”

They say drunk people who claim “I’m not drunk” are always lying—and that seemed true now.

I was, in fact, a little drunk. Drunk on wine, and drunk on Sikar Blake’s warm chest.

But I didn’t want to go inside like this—I wanted to savor this feeling, just a little longer.

Yet, against my will, my mouth blurted out something utterly random.

“Don’t even think about climbing into my bed just because I’m drunk.”

“Do I look like the kind of man who’d take advantage of someone drunk?”

“No, it’s not that…”

“But now that you’ve said that, I’m actually tempted to do just that.”

Absolutely not allowed…

I needed to say it out loud… but the words wouldn’t come.

As drowsiness washed over me in gentle waves, I soon sank into deep sleep.

“We should head out first. As you can see, my wife is a bit tipsy.”

Even without Sikar Blake explicitly stating his wife was drunk, Roen and Jeremi Iker seemed to instantly grasp the situation.

After all, Yura Blake wasn’t just a little drunk—she was practically unconscious, nestled against Sikar Blake’s chest.

“It’s a shame you’re leaving already.”

“We’ll surely meet again sometime.”

The Duke, who usually brandished a knife like a threat whenever giving instructions, now—knifeless—mimed slicing his own throat as he warned them to take their time finishing up, but to safely escort Roen back to the temple before leaving.

‘So I’m not allowed to move until Lady Roen leaves this place.’

Jeremi Iker, shaking his head, turned toward Roen—then gasped and quickly tried to stop her.

Roen had picked up a wine bottle from the table and was drinking straight from it—or rather, practically pouring it into her mouth.

Jeremi Iker grabbed the bottle from her hand and set it down.

“Lady Roen! Are you alright?”

Roen turned her head, smiling brightly.

“Hm? What?”

Looking at her, one couldn’t sense even the slightest trace of drunkenness. She appeared perfectly sober.

“Oh—nothing. I just wondered if you were okay, drinking like that…”

“I hold my liquor pretty well. I could drink several bottles of rum and still be fine. A few bottles of wine like this? My liver wouldn’t even notice.”

“Well, that’s fortunate, I suppose…”

“By the way, I’m not pressuring you to drink—if you want to, go ahead. If not, don’t.”

“Then I won’t drink. Not because I dislike alcohol, but because I still have tasks to finish.”

“I hope those tasks involve spending time with me—like dancing more together, or having deeper conversations.”

Finishing the tasks Sikar Blake had entrusted to him should come first—but Jeremi Iker felt inclined to indulge Roen a little longer, as she seemed cheerful, perhaps from the wine.

Jeremi Iker handed her a piece of fruit after she took a sip of wine.

“We’ve danced—so if you want a deeper conversation, I’m all ears.”

At that, Roen’s eyes sparkled. She propped her chin on her knuckles and gazed at Jeremi Iker.

“What are your plans regarding children, Mr. Jeremi Iker?”

He should’ve just suggested dancing again. He never imagined she’d ask about children.

Jeremi Iker stared at her, bewildered by how she could ask such an outlandish question—but Roen’s expression was quite serious.

“I’d prefer to have just one child, if possible.”

“Why is that?”

“I come from a family with too many siblings. We always had to compete for our parents’ love. I wanted to be loved more, but seeing a more talented sibling receive that love made me terribly jealous. So, if I have a child, I want just one—so they can receive all my love without sibling rivalry. What about you?”

Jeremi Iker thought he understood the faint loneliness in Roen’s face—the reason she so admired words like “kiss” and “love,” and how deeply she craved affection.

“I’ll follow whatever you desire, Lady Roen.”

Roen stared at Jeremi Iker as if suddenly sobered.

“Does that mean you’re considering marriage with me? You said earlier today, upon meeting me, that dating sounded complicated—but now you’re already thinking of marriage with someone you’ve just met?”

Jeremi Iker broke into a cold sweat again. That wasn’t what he’d meant to say—but somehow, the words had slipped out.

Suddenly, Jeremi Iker felt an urgent need to finish the Duke’s assigned tasks quickly.

Actually, he mostly just wanted to escape this situation immediately.

“Ah—I should go finish my remaining tasks. Excuse me for a moment.”

As Jeremi Iker scrambled to stand up, Roen grabbed his collar and looked up at him.

“Where are you going?”

“Oh—I came to the festival today to install street lamps. I’m in the middle of finishing that job.”

Roen’s eyes widened, and she set down the wine bottle she’d been holding.

“I heard a certain mage came to the temple to install street lamps—could that mage be you, Mr. Jeremi Iker?”

Jeremi Iker scratched the back of his head, looking embarrassed.

“Uh… yes. That mage is indeed me. I’ve nearly finished the temple work—you’ll find the street lamps much brighter when you return.”

“I’d heard rumors that mage was very handsome, and I was curious who it was—so it was you, Mr. Jeremi Iker!”

Oh, you who are weak to flattery—your name must be Jeremi Iker.

Jeremi Iker muttered this inwardly, forcing his rising smile back down.

“It’s embarrassing to hear I’m rumored to be handsome.”

Roen frowned, looking displeased, and shot him a sideways glance.

“So you’re enjoying being called handsome?”

“Yes. I mean—what?”

“Do you really like hearing that from other people?”

“Oh—no. I’ve just never heard it before…”

“Since you’re calling yourself my boyfriend now, listen well.”

Jeremi Iker nodded obediently, noticing how tightly Roen gripped the wine bottle.

“I hate flirtatious men. I’ll never forgive a man who cheats. Don’t even make eye contact with other women—like Sikar, for example. You’ve seen him, right? He never looks me in the eye. And when I say he’s handsome, he doesn’t show any pleasure at all—just gives me a slight glare and that’s it.”

Jeremi Iker already knew this well from hearsay.

“At first, it bothered me a little—but now I think I’d actually like it if my man acted that way. So I hope you’ll be that kind of boyfriend to me. Am I asking too much by comparing you to someone else?”

How could he possibly say she was asking too much, when she was gazing at him with wide, adorable eyes?

Jeremi Iker immediately waved his hands and replied.

“I’m not bothered at all—in fact, I appreciate your honesty.”

“Do you really think so?”

“Yes. Truly.”

Jeremi Iker himself was straightforward by nature, and since this was his first time courting a woman, he found direct speech far easier to handle than indirect hints.

Except for the next line.

“Then let’s kiss.”

Jeremi Iker, who had been smiling brightly, suddenly felt as if he’d been slapped—his cheek tingled as he grabbed it.

“What?”

“I’ve always thought my first kiss should happen right when fireworks go off like that. That’s why I came to this coming-of-age festival—to find a boyfriend.”

“Oh… really?”

“Yes. A first kiss beneath bursting fireworks would surely become a beautiful memory. I really wanted to have a beautiful memory of my first kiss.”

Even though Roen hadn’t moved closer, Jeremi Iker instinctively leaned his waist backward.

“Ah—yes. That does sound very romantic.”

“So let’s kiss—right when the next firework bursts! Okay?”

Jeremi Iker, who was used to making others break into cold sweat with his words, never imagined he’d be the one sweating bullets himself. He couldn’t even wipe the sweat trickling down as he stammered.

“Ha—but we only just met today…”

Jeremi Iker couldn’t finish his sentence.

Because Roen had already grabbed his collar with both hands and pressed her lips to his.

Startled, Jeremi Iker’s eyes widened—then slowly closed.

As they kissed, the sound of fireworks bursting—“bang, bang”—echoed in his ears.

Feeling pinned down, Jeremi Iker didn’t want Roen’s precious first kiss to feel like something he was merely receiving passively.

He pulled his body forward, wrapped his arms around Roen’s waist, and cupped her head with one hand as he kissed her deeply.

Only then did Roen release his collar and place both hands on his shoulders.

Behind their thrilling, sweet first kiss, fireworks burst beautifully in the sky.