* * *

“Stay with him at all times. If Whisen isn’t available—”

“Elgana or Luaia should be with me, right?”

“Exactly. The duchy is relatively safe, but if you were to get hurt, I’d be devastated.”

“I don’t want you to get hurt either, Zeroth.”

Sylvian’s shy confession made Zeroth nod solemnly.

Who would dare harm an Alpha of his caliber?

But the worry in Sylvian’s eyes made him promise to be careful.

“Have a good day!”

After giving Zeroth a sweet kiss goodbye, Sylvian waved at his retreating back.

“Whew. Crazy bastard, take it easy.”

When the servants were momentarily absent, Sylvian lifted his pajama top and clicked his tongue at the state of his chest.

With Zeroth gone, Whisen would likely be standing guard at the door.

‘If I seduce Whisen, Zeroth might lose his mind.’

Sylvian adjusted his clothes, laid back on the soft pillow, and smirked to himself.

That bodyguard, Whisen, was a real stickler, insufferable even—but undeniably just as handsome as Zeroth.

Zeroth was like a beast of a man.

Perhaps it was because he was a dominant Alpha; everything about him was large.

His towering height, his broad hands, and those predator-like, hungry eyes that burned with intensity.

He was the quintessential handsome man, with a chiseled jawline and deep-set eyes.

The kind of man even other men would admit was striking—a dashing, masculine figure.

Knock, knock.

“Come in.”

“It’s Whisen, Your Grace.”

A low yet cold voice introduced itself from beyond the door.

“Elgana will arrive soon. I’ll remain stationed outside. Please call if you need anything.”

Through the crack in the door, Sylvian caught a glimpse of sky-blue hair and chuckled to himself.

‘For a knight, he looks oddly like a bookworm.’

But then, there was the contradiction—his body was firm, his fingers thick and strong.

Sylvian remembered the large hands that had supported his waist when he had almost stumbled on the stairs not long ago.

‘Should I seduce Whisen before parting ways with Zeroth?’

The lewd thought flitted through his mind, igniting a mischievous spark.

The idea of seeing such a composed, straight-laced man lose himself, calling Sylvian’s name with a flushed face, was undeniably appealing.

Always stiff, always barking orders like, ‘That’s off-limits!’ or ‘This way, please.’ Seeing someone like that unravel would be utterly entertaining.

‘Am I insane?’

Yes, insane, definitely insane.

“This life is a one-at-a-time deal!”

Sylvian lightly slapped his own cheek to snap himself out of it.

As long as Zeroth still had his eyes on him, there would be no playing around.

Zeroth was oddly obsessed with fidelity, despite being such a mess in every other aspect.

He couldn’t stand even fictional stories where the main character got involved with someone else—he’d destroy every rival character vying for the protagonist’s attention.

So, for now, Sylvian decided to behave.

But surely, just laying down some bait wouldn’t hurt, right?

It wasn’t entirely selfish, he reasoned.

He was merely gathering potential allies who might help a forsaken former duchess in need.

Feeling a slight twinge of guilt, Sylvian looked up and greeted Elgana with a radiant smile as she entered his chamber.

‘Once Zeroth finds his “main character,” all of this will come to an end anyway.’

Might as well enjoy what he could while it lasted.

Sipping on a mild soup, Sylvian found himself craving a spicy and hearty Korean hangover stew.

---

“Whisen, may I go for a walk?”

Peeking through the slightly open bedroom door, Sylvian carefully asked, trying not to be too demanding.

Whisen held back a sigh, biting his tongue.

He wanted to say no, but he had no valid excuse.

The Duke’s orders were clear: anything the Duchess wanted within the estate’s bounds was to be allowed.

Behind Sylvian, Luaia, the maid, struggled to hold back her laughter.

“…You may.”

Monitoring his likes and dislikes was part of Whisen’s duty.

If necessary, his role was to eliminate the Duchess.

But when Sylvian’s eager eyes lit up at his permission, Whisen found it difficult to maintain his usual composure.

Sylvian was like a frail young sapling—thin and unsteady, as if a strong wind might topple him.

And yet, this tiny omega wandered the estate incessantly, refusing to rest.

“Where do you wish to go today?”

“The front garden sounds nice.”

“Once you’re ready, you may head out.”

There was nothing to prepare and nothing he needed.

Sylvian, with Luaia and Whisen in tow, stepped out of the estate.

“The weather’s nice today.”

“It feels a bit chilly. I’ll quickly fetch a cardigan.”

Before Sylvian could protest, Luaia rushed back inside, leaving him alone with Whisen.

‘Perfect.’

Sylvian congratulated himself for intentionally stepping out without a coat. He had planned for this moment.

“That path would take longer. Shall we go this way instead?”

When Sylvian deliberately chose a route that would take longer for Luaia to return, Whisen pointed to the other direction.

“As the maid mentioned, the air is cold. If you catch a cold, the Duke will be displeased.”

Even as he spoke, Whisen found the words distasteful, though he knew he wasn’t wrong.

Until the rightful Duchess returned, Sylvian’s well-being was a matter of duty.

“Are you cold too, Sir Whisen?”

“I’ve told you before: do not address me with formalities.”

Whisen deflected the question with his usual stiff tone.

He wasn’t here to make small talk with the Duchess.

“Ah, sorry. I mean… my bad.”

Sylvian fumbled awkwardly with his words, his brows furrowing in frustration.

Whisen’s expression stiffened at the sight.

The Duchess had no one to sclimax to formally other than the Duke.

It had caused trouble before, and yet Sylvian seemed to have learned nothing.

“I’ve been trained for such weather. This is nothing to me.”

“Okay. I’ll be fine once Luaia brings my cardigan, too.”

Whisen turned his head sharply at Sylvian’s awkwardly phrased informal tone.

Sylvian trailed after Whisen’s brisk steps, his own slow and deliberate.

---

A rustle.

“Hm?”

Sylvian, following just behind Whisen, turned his head toward the sound of movement nearby.

“Stay here. It seems we have unexpected guests.”

There were no visitors scheduled for the day.

Whisen frowned as he moved toward the source of the sound.

“Is this the famed Duchess of Graham?”

The voice startled Sylvian, freezing him in place.

It was a voice he’d never heard in the Duke’s estate—smooth and composed like Zeroth, yet lighter and strangely unsettling.

“Did I scare you? Turn around and look at me, Duchess Graham.”

Sylvian hesitantly turned his head, his face scrunched with apprehension.

Beyond the hedges stood a flamboyant man with fiery red hair and golden eyes that gleamed like molten gold, studying him with an amused expression.

“Ah, hello?”

“Don’t you know who I am?”

Sylvian had a pretty good idea.

But feigning ignorance was a safer choice.

“I… I apologize.”

Sylvian bowed deeply, flustered, and the man chuckled lightly.

“It’s understandable. A nobody viscount’s firstborn wouldn’t recognize the crown prince of their nation.”

“Hic.”

At the mention of his title, Sylvian let out an involuntary hiccup, causing the Crown Prince, Aihin, to laugh deeply.

“So this is the one Zeroth Graham has chosen?”

* * *