* * *
“Really? The Duke also said he liked it. That’s a relief.”
Seeing his satisfied expression, Whisen found himself displeased by how defenseless his face looked.
Lately, he had been hearing about an increasing number of reckless young men flaunting their bodies in revealing clothing at the clubhouse to seduce young women or Omegas.
For a brief moment, Whisen wondered if he should behead the merchants who had recommended such an outfit to the Duchess.
“How about trying this collar chain, Lord Sylvian?”
A maid, who had been carefully examining the newly acquired jewelry box, held up an ornate chain.
“You have a good eye.”
Elgana nodded.
The chain was embedded with gemstones, each one meticulously placed.
“The color matches Lord Sylvian’s eyes perfectly—it suits you even more because of that.”
Who picked this out?
Sylvian, blushing at Elgana’s words, nodded shyly.
Turning his best side—his left—toward Whisen, he made it easier for her to fasten the chain.
‘Getting all giddy over a mere gemstone.’
Whisen clicked his tongue as he watched Sylvian’s eyes sparkle with excitement, his cheeks flushed like ripe peaches.
If only the lower servants had been assigned to this task instead.
His body itched with impatience, forced to stand around and watch the Duchess giggle instead of training.
At first, he had found it curious that Sylvian was a male Omega, considering how rare they were, but that was the extent of his interest.
Every time he tried to speak, Sylvian would tear up, leaving him unable to scold him or even click his tongue in irritation.
Still, he looked much better now.
When he first arrived, his face had been so pale and drained that he couldn’t even lift his head properly.
“Sir Whisen! What do you think?”
“You’re using formal speech again—”
Whisen had been about to complain when he caught Elgana’s stern glare.
He quickly shut his mouth and gave a reluctant nod.
“It looks good. There’s nothing that doesn’t suit you.”
At his simple remark, Sylvian’s face brightened as if the sun had risen.
Whisen sharply turned his head away.
His stomach twisted at the sight of Sylvian smiling with that telltale exhaustion, his face practically screaming that he had been tormented by the Duke all night.
What an oblivious fool—he had no idea how others were looking at him.
The maids, busy helping him dress, exchanged glances as they caught sight of the marks left on his body.
Servants loved to gossip.
Undoubtedly, rumors would soon be swirling behind closed doors.
They say a wife’s authority is secured through her husband’s love, but the way these servants adored that insignificant Omega was excessive.
‘There’ll be trouble when it’s time to deal with him.’
Whisen, who prided himself on understanding the Duke’s intentions, cast a cold glance at the Duchess.
It wasn’t right to grow attached to someone who was merely an assignment.
Especially not when his role wasn’t to protect but to monitor and eliminate if necessary.
“Shall I prepare some cool tea?”
A maid cautiously asked in the middle of dressing Sylvian, her gaze full of concern over his flushed face.
“Yes. I feel a little warm.”
Seeing Sylvian fanning himself, the maids quickly wrapped up his dressing and accessories.
He had been fine at first, but now it seemed exhaustion was setting in.
“Lord Sylvian, please sit and rest. I’ll bring the drink right away.”
“Alright.”
But the heat in his cheeks didn’t fade.
Sylvian felt a slow, unfamiliar warmth rising from deep within.
What’s happening to me?
This had never happened before.
He had been diligently taking his pheromone suppressants.
He wasn’t a recessive Omega, but because of his weak constitution, his heat cycles were unpredictable.
At his previous estate, he had been forced to take harsh pheromone inhibitors.
It wasn’t until he was examined by Paul at the Duke’s estate that he realized just how toxic those drugs had been.
Paul had prescribed pheromone stabilizers, and since taking them, he had never gone into heat.
Paul had mentioned that once his pheromones stabilized, his heat cycle would begin naturally.
“Ah…”
As soon as the maids left, leaving him alone with Whisen, Sylvian curled up on the sofa.
A sudden chill swept over him.
“Duchess?”
Whisen’s eyes widened as he heard Sylvian groan and saw him curling up in discomfort.
“Ugh.”
Damn it.
Whisen instinctively reached out to touch him but then quickly pulled back.
“Cough… Cough…”
An overwhelming wave of pheromones burst forth.
Like a blooming flower, the scent spread in an instant, heavy and suffocating.
Whisen instinctively held his breath.
It was a soft, warm fragrance, yet Sylvian’s pheromones pressed down on the room with an oppressive weight.
“Kh…!”
His body reacted immediately to the sudden rush of pheromones. Heat surged from within.
“Hah…”
Whisen clenched his jaw and struck his own cheek harshly, trying to shake off the effect.
Then, he bolted to open the window.
His lower body felt uncomfortably heavy, but the priority was protecting the Duchess.
“…Hngh.”
As the cool air rushed in, Whisen regained his senses.
But the pained sounds behind him made him turn back.
Disheveled golden hair was strewn across the sofa, and tear-filled eyes, filled with fear at his own body’s reaction, desperately sought him out.
Whisen swallowed hard.
Crash!
“Lord Sylvian!”
“Hurry and call the physician! I should leave.”
To his knowledge, this was Sylvian’s first heat since arriving at the Duke’s estate.
Normally, the Duke should be called—but without realizing it, Whisen had asked for Paul instead.
“Hic…”
“Sir! Please carry Lord Sylvian to the bedroom!”
The maids rushed into the room, alarmed by the situation, and called out to Whisen.
Standing at a distance, Whisen gathered his aura to approach Sylvian without being affected by his pheromones.
Somehow, he had a feeling the Duke was going to be furious with him.
“…Excuse me.”
Without hesitation, he scooped up Sylvian’s trembling body.
Though he had put on some weight, he still felt unnervingly light.
As the intense scent flooded his senses, Whisen clenched his jaw and hastened toward the bedroom.
“What about the physician?”
“They’ll be here soon!”
Whisen laid Sylvian on the Duke’s bed and hurriedly opened all the windows with rough movements.
There were plenty of Alpha servants—before they lost control, he needed to disperse Sylvian’s pheromones.
“Aaah! What’s wrong this time—”
“It’s his heat cycle.”
Whisen, still holding a handkerchief over his nose, flatly told Paul, who had come running.
Then, stepping outside the room, he shut the door behind him.
‘Exhale…’
The lingering warm, sweet scent clung to his senses.
Whisen took another step back.
“Tell the Duke that the Duchess has entered his heat cycle.”
He ordered one of the worried-looking maids standing outside.
“Yes, Sir!”
She immediately ran off toward the Duke’s office.
“Ah…”
“Lord Sylvian? Are you awake?”
The murmuring voice near his ear made Sylvian slowly open his eyes. His vision was blurred by the heat coursing through his body.
Whisen. Whisen had been here.
His pheromones were spilling uncontrollably.
He had been thoroughly exhausted from the night before, yet the burning hunger in his body refused to be satisfied.
* * *
