* * *

The burning cigar gave off a sharp, woody scent, stinging my nose.

As Jerome’s face came into view, memories of the previous night flashed through my mind.

Jerome extinguished his cigar against the wall, watching me intently.

Shoving my hands into my robe pockets, I forced myself to speak.

“I went to see Lady Freya for a bit. Both the baby and Lady Freya seem healthy. How about you? You were out cold all night.”

Telling a lie, I looked down, feeling a twinge of guilt.

It felt wrong to brush off what happened yesterday, but I couldn’t help it.

Even if she was the most extraordinary young lady of the Duke’s family, she couldn’t just reject a proposal from the royal family.

Carlisle had made an offer: if I pretended to be his lover for just one month, the engagement would be off the table.

A month of pretending would be temporary torture, but an engagement would be a death sentence.

Between the two, I had no choice but to pick the former.

‘Sorting things out with Jerome will have to wait until this month is over.’

If anyone discovered I was a man and I ended up executed like in the original story, Jerome wouldn’t be able to escape Mephisto’s grasp.

I knew that choosing this was the best for both of us, but it still felt miserable not to be able to admit my feelings after mustering up the courage.

“It’s cold. Let’s go inside.”

Just as I was about to turn away without meeting his eyes, Jerome grabbed my wrist, forcing my hands out of my pockets.

He brushed his thumb over the unfamiliar magic seal on the back of my hand.

“What’s this magic seal I’ve never seen before?”

Despite the calm tone, I struggled to respond.

The way his fingers traced over the seal sent chills down my spine.

I quickly pulled my hand away and tried to sound casual.

“Ber told me after you collapsed. He said you needed a new divine spell because of how strong you’ve gotten. While you were out, I had the old one erased and a new spell inscribed at the temple.”

“I see.”

“…”

“That’s all?”

I nodded.

There was no need to mention the part where Mephisto woke up and nearly killed me.

Jerome would have been furious if he knew I made such a dangerous decision on my own.

Jerome tilted his head and smiled faintly.

“I actually had a strange dream. The usual kind, where you were… involved in a suggestive way, but…”

“…”

“It felt so vivid, like it was real.”

I froze.

Jerome’s ambiguous way of describing the dream, without mentioning the part where I was male, was suspicious.

Just as I was about to ask, ‘Would you be fine if I were a man?’, I stopped myself.

‘No. I can’t ask that.’

If I did, I’d be admitting that what happened wasn’t a dream but reality.

There’s no way I could see inside Jerome’s dreams.

He was testing me, trying to gauge if his vivid dream had any basis in reality.

His murky eyes scrutinized my reactions carefully, trying to unravel what I was thinking.

Steeling myself, I clenched my fists and steadied my breathing.

I couldn’t let myself fall into Jerome’s trap so easily.

“Are you just… frustrated? It couldn’t have been real.”

“…”

“And Lady Freya invited us to dinner again. If you don’t want to go, I can go alone…”

“How’s the baby?”

Jerome’s sudden question made me freeze mid-step.

He wrapped his arm around my waist from behind, placing his hand gently on my stomach.

The warm breath against my ear made me feel dizzy.

“Our baby. You’re not alone anymore.”

As a faint ringing filled my ears, a sharp pain shot through my head.

Hazy memories drifted past, like out-of-focus snapshots.

Right… I’m definitely a man, but I remember… carrying Jerome’s child?

The confusion clouded my mind as if some fuses in my brain had blown.

Jerome gripped my chest tightly, like he was urging me for an answer.

I shivered at the impatient, almost irritable touch and whispered softly.

“I’m okay for now.”

“From now on, don’t overexert yourself, no matter what. Let me handle anything heavy, alright?”

Just as I nodded, blood suddenly dripped from my nose.

Startled, I quickly grabbed at it, but Jerome, unfazed, tilted my head forward.

I felt his firm arm tighten around my waist as he pulled me close, his hands clasping over my blood-stained ones.

He whispered gently.

“See, you’re getting punished for keeping secrets from your husband…”

✽ ✽ ✽

We were on our way back to the manor in a carriage sent by Freya.

At the estate, a social gathering was in full swing among the nobles who had stayed after the Starlight Festival.

Jerome, dressed like he was ready for a film premiere, contrasted starkly with my barely formal attire.

“If I’m vague, then the more ambiguous types will try to belittle you,” he explained.

“But you spent thirty minutes holed up in that atelier, which made us late.”

“You’re ridiculous. If you were so impatient, you shouldn’t have married me in the first place,” Jerome retorted, his tone turning unexpectedly sharp. I shot him a glare.

Honestly, he’d been so picky about what to wear, trying on outfit after outfit.

By the fourth change, I couldn’t help but blurt out that I wished he’d hurry up.

Resting my chin by the window, I mumbled.

“And what was with you flirting with the stylist?”

“…”

“Not even sparing a thought for the person waiting for you.”

Jerome merely chuckled at my irritated grumbling and lifted my arm, leaning his head against it.

Despite his large frame that didn’t fit within a single embrace, it somehow looked like I was the one holding him.

“Did you inscribe your soul onto my heart while I was asleep?” he teased.

My eyes widened, and I stammered, “How did you know?”

“There’s no magic I wouldn’t recognize.”

Surprisingly, Jerome seemed utterly unbothered, contrary to my expectation of him being angry.

Feeling uncertain, I asked hesitantly, “You’re not mad? Even though I carved that spell onto your heart without your permission?”

Jerome paused, then smiled faintly instead of answering.

He ran his thumb over the back of my hand, and the once-visible magic sigil sank into my skin, vanishing as if he had concealed it from sight.

He spoke evenly.

“It’s something my wife did for me.”

“…”

“I was raised to believe that a good husband never scolds his wife. That he should cover her mistakes and embrace her flaws.”

Now that I thought about it, Jerome had never really been angry with me, except when I deliberately tried to push him away.

Even when I said infuriating things, he’d brush them off with a laugh or completely flip the situation, leaving me flustered.

Jerome watched my expression, a self-deprecating smile playing on his lips.

“Maybe that’s the kind of love she longed for,” he mused.

A shadow flickered across Jerome’s face.

I was pretty sure “she” referred to his mother.

Just as I was about to ask more about her, the carriage came to a lurching stop.

We had arrived at Freya’s mansion.

Judging by the lively chatter outside, the party was well underway.

Unbothered, Jerome continued.

“By the way, there’s one side effect to this divine spell,” he said.

“Side effect?”

“Yeah. Souls have a natural inclination to return to their rightful owner. The problem is, that pull affects me too. Even the slightest distance between us makes me feel intensely anxious.”

“…”

“So whether you like it or not, you’ll have to stay close to me.”

I stared at Jerome skeptically.

His long-winded preamble made it sound like a lie, but I felt uneasy giving a straightforward refusal since this predicament stemmed from my own impulsive decision.

Ultimately, I nodded, and only then did Jerome step out of the carriage.

He reached out to take my hand, and I followed him down.

Among the elaborately dressed nobles, Jeanne looked slightly out of place, wearing just a simple shirt and a tied-back hairstyle.

Thankfully, other academy guild members were also in their uniforms, which made things less awkward.

It felt akin to high schoolers wearing their school uniforms to an important family event.

‘Jerome always attracts attention, no matter where he goes.’

The moment we entered, heads turned, nobles of all ranks stealing glances at Jerome.

Surely, not everyone shared the same taste in men, yet in the presence of an undeniably handsome figure, even preferences seemed to lose their meaning.

I marveled at how Jerome remained so at ease under the weight of all those stares.

Our eyes met as I was quietly observing him.

“How does it feel to be liked by everyone, even when you do nothing?” I asked.

“To be honest, it’s just okay.”

“Must be nice, being a handsome guy with a perfect build,” I grumbled, checking my reflection in the ice fountain.

My face still looked young and pretty, much to my disappointment.

Even though Sacresians developed slowly, I never expected to remain so boyish.

I longed to grow into a sturdier, more adult appearance.

‘Of course, surviving that long comes first,’ I thought.

I sighed, feeling wistful, and scrutinized Jerome again.

His neatly swept-back hair emphasized his prominent brow bone, lending him a masculine air.

His refined demeanor and noble posture matched that of an aristocrat’s heir, but the shadows in his gaze hinted at something almost decadent.

His mismatched eyelids created an ever-changing aura, depending on how light played across his face.

“People like me for more than just my looks,” Jerome remarked. “They tell me I seem trustworthy, like I won’t remember anything they say.”

“…”

“Think about it. To form a relationship is to involve yourself in someone’s life in some way. But because I never involve myself, I make them feel comfortable.”

Jerome flashed a smile as a servant handed him a glass of champagne.

Sipping casually, he scanned the room with disinterest, his eyes devoid of excitement.

“Bend down a little,” he said suddenly. “Your tie’s loose.”

His remark broke through my thoughts, and I noticed my loosely tied necktie.

Gesturing for him to lower his head, Jerome complied obediently.

As I tightened his tie, he clasped my hands, and over the din of the party, he murmured something that made my heart race.

“The only thing I want to be involved in is you.”

I suddenly realized that even the most romantic words could sound chilling, depending on who said them.

Jerome pulled me into an embrace, and I stiffened, turning my head when Carlisle, who I hadn’t noticed before, accepted a glass of champagne from a servant.

‘Ah, my head hurts.’

I tensed up the moment our eyes met.

Carlisle’s request to pretend to be lovers replayed in my mind.

He alternated his gaze between Jerome and me, then started walking slowly toward us.

“Here.”

Carlisle, who hadn’t even glanced at Jerome, suddenly held out a champagne glass to me.

As I reached to take it without thinking, Jerome grabbed my hand and pulled it down, speaking firmly.

“You shouldn’t drink, darling. Remember, you’re not alone anymore.”

The smile vanished from Carlisle’s lips.

* * *