Sikar Blake and I were sitting on a bench, facing the gently blowing wind.

Perhaps because I had sweated a little, the breeze felt incredibly refreshing.

Sikar Blake, leaning back against the bench, smiled faintly.

“Feels good.”

Perhaps due to the sunlight softly illuminating his cheek, his face shimmered unusually.

Seo Yeon and Reidox, both introverted by nature, sat side by side calmly conversing despite having met after a long time.

Even so, Reidox’s gaze never once strayed from Seo Yeon’s face.

How joyful it must be to see each other after such a long time.

Come to think of it, there was one more person here whose gaze stubbornly refused to leave a face.

Sikar Blake.

His eyes were fixed on me so intently it felt as if my face might wear away.

“You heard what Lady Seo Yeon said, right? Even if you disappear, you can come back. Since you won’t vanish so easily, stop staring.”

“But I also heard coming back won’t be easy.”

It didn’t seem easy for me to return either. Recalling what Seo Yeon had told me, I still often dreamed of being trapped inside a wardrobe.

It wasn’t a pleasant dream for me, yet somehow, because that tiresome dream kept haunting me, making me feel I was still lingering here, even that dream I once desperately wanted to shake off now felt meaningless to me.

I embraced Sikar Blake as if being deeply drawn into his arms.

“Worrying for no reason.”

“If you have something precious, and you want to protect it, worrying is only natural.”

We were simply waiting for Reidox and Seo Yeon’s conversation to end.

Since this was a royal setting, there was no event involving tossing a bouquet.

Instead, a formal bouquet ceremony was held separately, where one had to receive the bouquet from the royal family with solemn decorum.

Moreover, since the bouquet held by the bride was considered sacred—symbolizing the bestowal of blessings—I wanted to give it specifically to someone truly precious.

Just as I was pondering whom to give the bouquet to, Seo Yeon appeared.

So I thought it was wise not to decide the bouquet’s recipient in advance.

Yet again, an unexpected problem arose.

“I apologize, Duchess. Lady Seo Yeon’s health has weakened, so we must now return to the Marquis’s residence.”

Considering she had wandered lost upon arriving here and Vika Lamberst had practically dragged her like a hostage-taker, it was understandable she’d feel unwell—I simply hadn’t thought of it.

“Then please go rest immediately.”

“I’m sorry I cannot stay until the end of your wedding, Duchess.”

“Not at all. Lady Seo Yeon must be exhausted—please go rest.”

“Then we shall take our leave.”

Seo Yeon bowed her head weakly in farewell. Her parched lips suggested she had just released all tension and completely drained her energy.

“Now that Lady Seo Yeon has left, I don’t know who to give this bouquet to.”

At my grumbling, Sikar Blake glanced at me sideways and shrugged.

“If no better opportunity appears, just give it to me.”

Surely not. Was he serious?

I nudged his shoulder with my elbow and asked,

“Are you joking?”

“They say whoever receives this bouquet gets blessed, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I think that’s exactly what I need right now. Who else but me lives burdened by the anxiety that his wife might vanish at any moment? Probably?”

He was serious. As expected, you always defy my expectations—not just slightly, but entirely unpredictably.

Anyway, I felt I needed to explain the sacredness of the bouquet to this absurd groom who dared ask his own bride for it on their wedding day.

“Do you know why this bouquet is sacred?”

I assumed he’d recall my memories, but admirably, Sikar Blake tried to think, then scratched his cheek as if unsure.

“Hmm?”

“In ancient times, brides were regarded as sacred. Guests would clamor just to touch the hem of the bride’s dress, believing that even brushing the sacred bride’s garment would bring divine blessings upon them.”

Sikar Blake nodded, surprised yet conceding.

“I can’t deny my wife is sacred.”

“That’s why, eventually, brides began tossing the bouquet they held into the crowd. Meaning—you’re already blessed, since you’re with a sacred bride.”

“So I don’t need this bouquet after all.”

He didn’t outright sulk, but his tone carried a hint of disappointment. I found his reaction so endearing I laughed.

“Why are you laughing? I’m being serious.”

“That’s exactly why it’s funnier.”

“Then let me hold the sacred lady’s hand too. It’s heartbreaking how you always dodge whenever I try to hold your hand.”

Yet Sikar Blake’s gaze toward me showed no trace of shyness. Rather, since he spoke while looking at me with a cynical glint, it didn’t feel sincere at all.

“Sikar Blake. When saying things like that, you should wear a pitiful expression.”

“A pitiful expression?”

“Yes.”

“What does that kind of expression look like?”

“Well, it’s like….”

I tried to think who among us could pull off such an expression well, but honestly, no one came to mind.

Sikar Blake’s followers, true to their villainous roles, all carried too much swagger; Kian Blake’s heroic side were all too noble, leaving everyone with either haughty or dignified faces.

Then… hmm… something did come to mind.

“Maybe the expression Luid made when he saw the Death Knight in the training room?”

I thought Sikar Blake would immediately respond, but his reaction was completely flat.

“I won’t hold my lady’s hand using that method.”

“Then what?”

Sikar Blake leaned his face abruptly toward me, cornering me as if trapping me.

“I plan to make my lady so eager to hold my hand she can’t help herself.”

“H-how?”

My question also implied: how on earth could you possibly manage that?

Sikar Blake stood up and nodded at me as if urging me to rise too.

‘What’s he planning?’

Anyway, I stood up to cooperate with him.

“Alright, now how exactly do you plan to make me hold your hand?”

In response, Sikar Blake grinned slyly.

That grin felt oddly ominous.

Sure enough. After stopping his smile, Sikar Blake gently pushed my forehead with his index finger. I lost my balance, swayed backward, and ended up flailing my arms like a bird frantically flapping its wings.

“Hey! Sikar Blake! You!”

Sikar Blake extended one hand leisurely, smiling as he looked at me.

“Quick, grab it, Duchess. If you fall here, you’ll dirty your dress entirely. You can’t ruin the precious dress Hersia gifted you, can you?”

This. Insane. Man!

I had no choice but to grab Sikar Blake’s hand. He grinned, pulled me into an embrace, and said,

“I told you I’d make you desperately grab my hand, didn’t I?”

“I didn’t grab it desperately—I grabbed it because I was dizzy!”

Sikar Blake seemed satisfied with that too, smiling as he bowed toward me.

“Thank you, Duchess, for allowing me to hold the sacred bride’s hand.”

To think he’d act so shamelessly after pushing me into forcibly grabbing his hand.

No matter how much Sikar Blake had changed, deep down, he was still Sikar Blake.

Yet, strangely, I found myself drawn to this mischievous side of him.

As I watched Sikar Blake slightly bowing his head, contemplating whether to gently push his forehead too, I noticed Roen walking toward us from behind him.

Before I could even call Roen’s name, she was already watching us with evident curiosity.

“Your method of holding the Duchess’s hand is quite unique, Duke.”

“Thank you for the compliment, Roen.”

I wasn’t sure how that counted as a compliment, but Sikar Blake smiled as if the remark didn’t bother him.

I smiled too—albeit a reluctant one.

“Thank you for repackaging ‘eccentric’ as ‘unique,’ Roen. Welcome.”

“Repackaging? It reminded me of the coming-of-age festival. It looked that romantic.”

True, Roen herself had quite a unique personality.

“Duke, perhaps you could teach Jeremi Iker a bit of that boldness too?”

“Boldness?”

Apparently, Roen was confusing harassment with boldness.

“He was clearly wearing a uniform at first, but ever since then, he’s worn that robe every single day.”

Fortunately, Jeremi Iker’s hearing wasn’t sharp.

Sikar Blake snorted as if listening to utterly trivial nonsense.

“How could a mage cast spells properly if weighed down by heavy uniform-like clothing?”

“Still, I think Jeremi Iker would look even more handsome if he occasionally wore a sword at his waist.”

“Better than a knight who wears a sword at his waist every single day, Roen.”

Roen giggled as if marveling at such a remark.

“No, of course. But seriously, who walks around with a sword at their waist all the time like some lunatic?”

Actually, that lunatic who always wore a sword at his waist is standing right here, Lady Roen.

That lunatic—no, Sikar Blake—looked momentarily flustered, then quickly feigned disinterest as he turned his head and said,

“Has the date been set for the expedition to Sacred Grass with Princess Veronia?”

“Oh, Her Highness hasn’t mentioned it yet. And shouldn’t the Princess enjoy the wedding festivities a little longer?”

Sikar Blake nodded in agreement.

“True, that makes sense.”

“By the way, the bouquet ceremony is coming up soon—have you decided who to give the bouquet to?”

“I haven’t decided yet. I’m not even sure who deserves it.”

Roen clapped her hands gleefully and laughed loudly.

“What about Vika Lamberst?”

“Vika Lamberst?”

Good heavens, Vika Lamberst receiving a bouquet? Unimaginable.

But Sikar Blake seemed pleased, lifting the corners of his mouth.

“That’s not a bad idea. I’m looking forward to seeing Vika Lamberst’s horrified reaction.”

Sikar Blake wore an evil grin, and I couldn’t agree.

I just hoped Vika Lamberst wouldn’t end up throwing the bouquet away.

“But, Sikar Blake. That’s difficult. I don’t plan to give it to Vika Lamberst.”

Sikar Blake tilted his head, looking at me as if asking why.

“There’s no one else to give it to besides Vika Lamberst anyway.”

“No, there’s one person.”

“Who?”

Sikar Blake looked at me with genuine curiosity, and I mimicked his earlier mischievous grin.

“I’ll give it to Lucy.”

Sikar Blake, clearly not having considered that possibility, gaped with his mouth wide open.