Chapter 151
A Complete Union
Tea party. Invitation.
They were words Eleanor knew very well.
More precisely, words familiar to Eleanor Astria of Cardiff.
However, after she had led Astria to ruin with her own hands, Eleanor had lived for a while forgetting such words altogether. She believed they no longer had anything to do with her. After all, she was no longer a noble.
But there was something she had forgotten.
She was now Karsian’s mistress—and a king’s mistress often took charge of social gatherings outside official events.
Which meant that, like Countess Annabelle once had, Eleanor would need to become a social butterfly.
The social circle.
It was not a name she welcomed.
Regardless of how skilled she was at it, she had never gained anything good from being involved in high society since childhood.
Eleanor accepted the invitation with mixed feelings. After reading it, she realized Amira was right—the date was extremely soon. Only two days later.
If this were Juvenile, it could easily be taken as a subtle form of exclusion.
“The host is Miss Deborah Genovese, the eldest daughter of the Genovese Count family. She’s considered the flower of Royster’s social circle. I’ll inform you in advance of the nobles who will be attending. Since we don’t have much time, I’ll summon a tailor tomorrow.”
Amira rattled off her words quickly.
Having no particular reason to refuse, Eleanor nodded slowly.
What she was familiar with was Cardiff’s social circle—not Royster’s. If that was the case, then to avoid disgracing Karsian, she needed to learn as much as possible about Royster’s customs and etiquette.
I really don’t want to go…
But that was a childish thought.
If she wished to remain by Karsian’s side, this was something she had to endure—at least until he married a proper woman and she left this place.
And so, that day, Eleanor received an intensive lesson on Royster’s social circle from Amira.
Perhaps because Amira also didn’t want to disgrace her master, she taught earnestly—and Eleanor absorbed everything quickly.
As a result, by the time Karsian returned to Trava Palace late in the evening after completing a patrol outside the city walls, Eleanor had perfectly memorized the names, traits, and histories of Royster’s noble families.
“You’re attending the Genovese Count family’s tea party?”
Freshly bathed and spotless, Karsian sat naturally on Eleanor’s bed and asked.
She couldn’t tell when he had heard the news—he had only just returned and washed up.
“Yes. You know Miss Deborah, right? Is there anything I should be especially careful about?”
Eleanor also slipped naturally into his arms.
His chest was so solid and broad that it made breathing slightly difficult—but it was warm, and she liked it.
“I know most of Royster’s high nobles. From what I remember, she has a mild personality. There’s nothing you need to be careful about. Just greet them comfortably. But if anyone upsets you in the slightest, tell me immediately.”
“And what will you do if I tell you?”
“Well. What do you think I’ll do?”
His low, ominous tone made Eleanor burst into laughter.
Just hearing him say it made her feel good—though Karsian himself was completely serious.
“I suppose you’ll need new dresses. You only had daily wear made last time—this time, you should properly prepare.”
“Amira already called a tailor. I’m planning to have a couple of dresses made tomorrow.”
Karsian, who had been planting light kisses on her forehead, suddenly stopped. His dark brows furrowed in dissatisfaction.
“As long as I’m the Grand Duke of Royster, you’ll be meeting countless people. Will only a few dresses be enough? Even if we make new ones later for the New Year’s events, you’ll still need more clothes before then.”
This time, Eleanor’s body stiffened.
After a brief silence, she spoke in a low voice.
“…It’s okay, Karsian. I won’t be attending that many events.”
New Year’s events.
Those official occasions weren’t places she belonged.
He often spoke as if she would become the Grand Duchess—and every time he did, her heart dropped heavily.
It was a feeling difficult to put into words.
She was touched, saddened, and—just a little—resentful toward the man who made her feel this way.
“Shall we talk about dresses later?”
Eleanor smiled faintly and hugged him.
Right now, there was something more fun to do, she whispered playfully on purpose.
As if responding, Karsian firmly grabbed her waist and lowered his head.
Their lips met instantly, and Eleanor was naturally pressed beneath him.
Today’s kiss was especially rough.
The way he bit her lower lip felt almost like an accusation.
Eleanor closed her eyes tightly and focused on responding to him.
Her chest felt strangely hollow, yet his lips were unbearably sweet. Perhaps because of that, no matter how much they tangled flesh and exchanged saliva, the thirst would not fade.
“Have many dresses made.”
After breaking the fierce kiss, he roughly grabbed Eleanor’s clothes.
Rip.
A tearing sound rang out, and her sturdy clothing was reduced to rags.
“Including this one. As many as possible.”
Karsian whispered in her ear as he tossed the torn fabric to the floor.
Only then did she realize—he was still talking about dress fittings.
Eleanor let out a laugh at how much he resembled a stubborn child—but before she could relax, he swiftly targeted her weakest spots.
The skinship that began with a wet kiss flowed naturally into the deepest act.
As Eleanor gasped repeatedly under the pleasure overwhelming her entire body, she realized that today, he was far rougher than usual.
He looked… angry.
His dark brows were twisted in distress, and his red eyes stared at her with an aching, wavering gaze.
Feeling sorry for him, even in her dazed state, Eleanor slowly reached out.
Tap.
The moment her palm cupped his face, the man who had been thrusting fiercely suddenly froze—as if time had stopped.
“Karsian.”
She whispered his name, filled with inexplicable guilt.
His hardened expression only twisted further. His jawline sharpened, and the hand gripping her waist tightened.
And then, a pleasure even stronger and rougher than before surged through her.
A short while later, Eleanor collapsed limply, completely drained, gasping for breath she had been holding back.
In contrast, Karsian was still perfectly fine.
As if it were only the beginning, he reached toward the bedside table.
It was where they kept stacks of contraceptives.
But no matter what he grabbed, there was nothing there.
They had used them all.
Given how crazily they’d been at it since arriving in Royster, it was only natural.
“Karsian, I’m infertile.”
She suddenly spoke.
Throughout their intimacy, she had barely managed to form proper words—but now, she spoke clearly.
“…You seemed to have forgotten.”
His dark brows twisted in displeasure.
The timing was terrible—she had said it right after the conversation about making dresses.
Eleanor tended to pack ten meanings into a single sentence.
He knew that well—but this time, he hoped it wasn’t like that.
“So?”
He asked coldly.
The moment the word left his mouth, he worried she might be frightened—but instead, Eleanor smiled brightly.
“So… we don’t need to use contraception.”
It’s a relief, isn’t it?
She added with an innocent smile.
She hadn’t meant to speak only about contraception—but she pretended not to know that herself.
“I want to feel you completely. Please let me.”
It was far more than a mere mistress should be allowed.
For the first time, she felt grateful that she was infertile.
“Please.”
When she whispered softly, a vein bulged visibly in Karsian’s neck, and at the same time, he tightly grabbed her wrist.
“Please.”
Karsian had no patience left to resist her temptation.
With a face fierce enough to kill someone, he begged desperately—like a child with nothing.
“Don’t beg me.”
That is my request.
In a hoarse voice, he spoke, then plunged back into her body.
***
The next day, the vast Grand Duchess’s room was filled to the brim with boxes of dresses and jewelry.
It was obvious who had done it.
I thought he left unusually early this morning…
He had gone out before dawn—only to scour every tailor and bring back all available dresses.
Eleanor secretly sighed at Karsian’s persistence.
Unlike her, Hilda was thrilled.
She claimed she’d never seen so many Royster-style dresses in her life and excitedly searched for what Eleanor would wear to the tea party.
Though it was a shame they couldn’t have a custom dress made due to time constraints, every dress was so beautiful and luxurious that the disappointment never even crossed her mind.
Still, following Amira’s advice, Hilda noted that Royster nobles dressed slightly differently for tea parties than Juvenile nobles.
Determined not to let her lady be ridiculed, Hilda carefully selected the dress and accessories while applying everything she had learned.
The finished look was so striking that even Eleanor herself was startled.
It was beautiful enough that even Seth—who still hadn’t fully lowered his guard around her—stood staring blankly at her.
“Sir Seth?”
On the morning of the tea party, Eleanor tilted her head and called his name.
That day, Seth had come to escort her to the Count’s residence in Karsian’s stead, as Karsian had gone on a subjugation.
And yet, instead of offering his hand, he simply stared at her like an idiot.
For Eleanor, who was used to seeing only his cold expression, it was deeply bewildering.
“Forgive me.”
Seth came to his senses belatedly, his face tightening.
He looked humiliated, as if he couldn’t believe his own behavior.
After biting his lip repeatedly, he finally reached out to her—then stopped.
His sharp eyes slowly scanned her from head to toe.
And then, in a sharp voice, he said,
“…But why are you dressed like that?”
