Chapter 31: Kylus (1)
He roughly ran a hand over his face.
The air in the dim room, the deep sound of someone else’s breathing—it all felt too unfamiliar and irritating.
“This is driving me crazy.”
Due to the unique circumstances of the Carniel ducal family, he had never slept next to anyone since he was a child.
He glanced to the side. The woman lying next to him was turned away, showing only her back.
Her hair, spread out over the soft sheets, shimmered under the moonlight even in the dark.
Eleanor.
The woman once known as Grace had now become a Carniel.
That name left a strange, uncomfortable taste in his mouth.
Eleanor of Carniel.
Kylus rarely felt tired, but right now, he was exhausted.
It had been one of the longest days of his life.
It started with the attack.
He hadn’t been surprised when assassins burst into his training session.
The Emperor’s nobles were shocked to find out that the Empire’s strongest sword was now connected to Grace.
But the noble faction was no different.
The unexpected part was that both sides moved at once.
The Emperor must have given silent permission.
Later, he found out that the Emperor’s side had sent stronger assassins than the ones bribed by the nobles.
The ruthless Emperor, knowing Kylus’ strength, had allowed the marriage only because of external pressure—but had warned him not to get emotionally involved.
The assassins hadn’t meant to kill him—just to delay him.
As expected, his knights got held up, one by one.
“Don’t move.”
“Make an excuse about an injury.”
When he finally finished them all off, much time had passed.
He hesitated for a moment.
Kylus could have chosen not to go.
Even if he changed clothes and left right away, he would still be late.
“Wouldn’t it be better not to look like a fool?”
“Even if she’s alone at the wedding.”
He was sure Eleanor wouldn’t even complain.
Count Grace would be furious, and everyone—his mother, the Emperor—would be satisfied.
Even if he had to work with her later, he didn’t need to please her.
Those eyes.
But he remembered the calmness in her green eyes.
The strong determination to survive shining within them.
Before he knew it, he was already moving.
“Your Grace?”
“Follow me.”
“W-What?”
“Bring the carriage. We’re going to the wedding.”
Still covered in blood and holding his sword, he mounted his horse.
His knights were shocked—especially his aide, Cruel, who shouted in disbelief.
He had burst into the temple like someone who regretted being late.
Everyone had turned to stare.
Only the bride had her back turned.
She stood still in her white dress like a painting.
And when Eleanor finally looked back with a blank, emotionless face—he couldn’t take his eyes off her.
He should have realized it then.
He should’ve just stayed away.
The moment he saw her smiling calmly behind the veil…
She didn’t look surprised. She didn’t complain about the smell of blood.
She just silently helped him remove his gauntlet.
He should’ve known then—he would be deeply entangled with this woman.
She had stormed into his quiet life like a whirlwind.
“Just who are you?”
He listened to her calm breathing like a lullaby and forced his eyes shut.
But he couldn’t sleep.
A knight like him was too sensitive to someone else’s presence.
He looked again at the woman beside him—still turned away.
Her back looked small and delicate.
But when she moved, she seemed so strong.
“Is it those half-crazy eyes?”
She was strange.
That was the only way to describe his unfamiliar wife.
A strange woman. A crazy woman.
“She must be in pain.”
Cruel, his loyal aide, was the only one he confided in.
“Is the poison confirmed?”
“Yes. It’s one of the rare poisons with no antidote. It kills slowly—causing the body to feel like it’s burning.”
“She’s poisoned?”
“Yes.”
But Cruel didn’t believe it.
“You’re saying that woman is poisoned?!”
He didn’t believe it either.
She moved too calmly.
She breathed normally.
She even mocked him.
“Terminal.”
The doctor had said she wouldn’t live long.
Maybe ten years at most—if she rested, ate well, and avoided stress.
“Maybe even less.”
Kylus furrowed his brows.
Something about her bothered him.
She was hiding a lot.
She acted smooth and confident in conversation, but still—Eleanor was strange.
Her shoulder.
He had noticed something was wrong from the wedding.
Her walking was slightly off.
If he hadn’t noticed that, he wouldn’t be worthy of being Duke Carniel.
It didn’t make sense.
Why would a bride so carefully dressed up have an injured shoulder?
The rumors of her being Count Grace’s beloved daughter didn’t add up.
Many things about her said the opposite.
She seemed calm most of the time, but once they got into the carriage, she eagerly opened a basket—
Just to show him a sandwich.
She smiled brightly while holding it.
It was such a pure, unexpected smile that he was genuinely shocked.
“All that… for a sandwich.”
When she found out he didn’t like cucumbers, he even felt a little embarrassed.
He imagined the Count had ordered her to memorize even those details.
That made him feel disgusted.
Even while the carriage shook, she ate the sandwich without hesitation.
This blonde woman, now his wife, acted like it was nothing.
She seemed completely fine sitting beside him.
That was strange. And fascinating.
“How can she be like that?”
She had complained about his bloody appearance, but didn’t faint like other noble ladies.
She seemed used to blood.
But she didn’t show the usual romantic interest other women had shown him.
Even though she had asked for a contract marriage, Eleanor seemed strangely emotionless about it.
“More like she was cautious.”
Others might mistake her quiet behavior, but he could tell.
She was like a cat with her claws out, overly wary.
Sometimes, her cold green eyes gave off a chilling feeling—
The same hatred Carniel had for Grace.
There was something inside them. Something not good.
Maybe she had someone else she truly loved.
Maybe that’s why she didn’t want to marry him.
That thought made his stomach twist like he was seasick.
And from that point on, he kept getting dragged along by her.
No matter what tricks the Carniel people used to make things hard for her, she never flinched.
She boldly pulled him in and even gave him advice.
She shamelessly called him “dear” again and again—each time making his shoulder jerk.
She probably thought he was just disgusted by the word.
But in truth, something else disturbed him.
Eleanor… just what kind of life have you lived?
How could a noble lady, so young, so easily call her new husband “dear”?
Especially when their marriage was only for practical reasons.
And when she sometimes looked at him like he was just a foolish child
It was so ridiculous, he couldn’t even laugh.
He was starting to feel emotions he had buried long ago.
Feelings he, Duke Carniel, should never need.
But she was pulling them out again.
All because of her.
