* * *
Though his lips repeatedly called out Zeroth’ name, deep down, he welcomed Whisen’s touch.
Thrust!
As Whisen’s fingers moved, they pressed deeper and deeper inside.
“Ah… nghh!”
Without any finesse, the fingers plunged in deep, pressing forward relentlessly.
From the rigid length standing tall, beads of fluid dripped down.
The pillow clutched tightly in his arms was beginning to soak through.
“Hhk… ngh… hahk!”
“…Haa.”
Whisen let out a damp sigh, biting down hard on his own fingers as the duchess approached his climax.
His mind was flooded with the thought—’Is this really okay?’—but his body refused to stop.
At the very least, the fact that he hadn’t undone his pants was the last shred of his conscience.
He must not covet what belongs to the duke.
Whisen exhaled sharply, forcing himself to regain focus as he simultaneously controlled his pheromones and aura.
The throbbing pain in his lower body gradually subsided.
With his now-sharpened rationality, he continued to stretch Sylvian’s entrance.
After all, the only one allowed to use this place was none other than the Duke, Zeroth.
“Haa…! Ze-Zeroth! Ahh!”
Even the Duchess called out for the Duke like this.
“Permission… ngh.”
“……?”
The words that escaped the Duchess’s lips left Whisen momentarily dazed.
He pressed a hand against his forehead.
Damn it, he never wanted to know the Duke’s preferences.
Of course, he already knew.
But faced with such an explicit reality, Whisen let out a long sigh.
The Duchess, who was clenching down tightly, wouldn’t be able to go anywhere without his permission.
Why the hell do I have to do this?
A sudden wave of disillusionment with life hit him.
He had to admit, he was almost impressed by the Duke’s efforts in taming the completely oblivious Duchess.
“Aah! Zeroth! Give me permission, please!”
And what are you going to do now?
The moment the Duchess desperately called out Zeroth’ name, pleading for permission, Whisen could sense a hesitation from behind.
Sylvian bit down on his lip to hide his smirk and tightened around him.
He was really at his limit.
Whisen had to make a choice.
Should he completely cross the line he had already stepped over by accident?
Or should he stop here?
“Hhk!”
Feeling his fingers being sucked in deeper, Whisen pushed them in roughly once more.
“Do as you please.”
“Y-yes! Ah—!”
Thankfully, the word “bitch” never came out.
The moment permission was granted, Sylvian trembled violently and released with a shudder.
“Haa…”
Thud.
His frail body went limp, sinking into the sheets.
Confirming that the Duchess had calmed down, Whisen quickly withdrew his pheromones.
Then, he opened the window to let both of their scents dissipate into the air.
“Hoo.”
After washing his hands in the bathroom, he stepped out and silently observed Sylvian, who lay sprawled on the bed with his hips still raised.
He then picked up the blanket from the floor and covered him with it.
‘This was a mistake. No… this was a medical act.’
He was a knight.
He simply couldn’t turn his back on someone weak and in distress.
He truly felt nothing for the Duchess.
Annoyed at how entangled he had become in this mess, Whisen frowned.
Then, with a rough push, he opened the door and left.
He meditated until evening to calm his unsettled mind.
“Ugh…”
The touch was familiar.
“Hic… Hngh…”
Sylvian, who had barely managed to cool his fever with Whisen’s help, now found himself overwhelmed again.
Tears streamed down his face as the heat surged back with full force.
“Ze… roth… Hic… Ze… roth…”
That name had been forcibly engraved into his body.
As if he were incapable of calling for anyone else, Sylvian sobbed and reached out once more.
“It hurts… I don’t like it…”
His entire body was burning.
No—he was used to this kind of heat.
The once-cold pheromones had vanished, replaced by a raging inferno that spread through every inch of him.
A scorching presence, reminiscent of a sunlit desert, surged inside him.
“Haa… Zeroth…”
Like the delirious murmurs of a man stricken with fever, Zeroth’ name fell endlessly from his lips.
“A wife soaking wet in his husband’s absence—how shameless.”
“Hngh…!”
Barely managing to lift his heavy eyelids, Sylvian was met with a pair of piercing red eyes.
A kiss.
“It’s me—Zeroth.”
A quiet chuckle accompanied the featherlight kiss that brushed against Zeroth’ lips.
Without hesitation, Zeroth thrust himself deep into Sylvian, who was already dripping from the aftermath of his heat cycle.
“Ahh! Ngh!”
“Do you like it?”
“Yes…! Yes!”
The fresh sheets, seemingly replaced by the servants, wrapped around their bodies in a comforting embrace as Zeroth moved against him.
Sylvian clung to Zeroth, wrapping his legs around his waist, his desperate movements urging him on.
“Haa…! It’s so hot!”
Seeing Sylvian take the initiative for the first time, Zeroth hesitated slightly.
Lost in the haze of pheromones, Sylvian begged for more, utterly unaware of his own inexperience.
“Ah…!”
His body melted, trembling, yielding, inviting Zeroth deeper.
His inner walls clenched, pleading wordlessly for more.
A quiet chuckle.
So, it was the heat cycle.
On his way out, he had considered returning after receiving Elgana’s report.
He had thought about ordering Whisen to share his pheromones to ease Sylvian’s suffering.
But in the end, he couldn’t bring himself to say the words.
How could he deny his own body the reward it deserved after enduring so patiently?
And so, Zeroth plunged himself into the body that welcomed him so eagerly.
At long last, the duke’s chambers echoed with the sounds of the duchess’ pleasure.
Two agonizing days had passed.
Sylvian had spent nearly an entire week confined to his chambers, recovering.
As a result, he hadn’t even caught a glimpse of Whisen.
‘It couldn’t have been that bad… right?’
Now feeling a little too confident in himself, Sylvian lazily stirred the thick, nourishing soup placed before him.
“I’d like to go for a walk today.”
“I’ll make the preparations.”
After spending his first heat cycle with the duke, the servants had grown even more reverent in their treatment of him.
Perhaps because the duke had personally tended to him rather than leaving him to suffer alone, the staff now anticipated a future heir from Sylvian.
“Who’s on guard duty today?”
“Sir Whisen.”
Following Sylvian’s heat cycle, Zeroth had increased the number of guards assigned to him.
Although Whisen was an Alpha strong enough to resist an Omega’s pheromones, Zeroth still assigned Beta and Omega knights to accompany him, refusing to rely on an Alpha alone.
The duke had good instincts.
Neither Sylvian nor Whisen had spoken a word, yet Zeroth had begun separating them regardless.
Given the circumstances, even the slightest misstep would be immediately exposed.
Not that Sylvian cared—he could always feign memory loss due to the pheromones.
As long as Whisen remained careful, it would be the perfect crime.
“Alright, this should be good enough!”
Luaia nodded in satisfaction.
“I’m not an invalid, you know…”
It wasn’t the height of summer, but the weather was pleasant.
While everyone else walked around in light, short-sleeved shirts, Sylvian was wrapped in a thick cardigan and a scarf.
“Just in case! You must keep warm no matter what!”
Ugh.
He’d heard this speech before in his past life.
Luaia, were you my mother or something?
His layers were so thick that he was sweating even while standing still.
“I’ll carry them if I get cold later. For now, it’s way too hot to walk like this.”
Reluctantly, Luaia helped remove the excess layers.
“Everyone worries too much.”
The moment Sylvian stepped outside his chamber, he spotted Whisen standing by the door.
“Sir Whisen! It’s been a while!”
“Yes. Are you heading out?”
“I’d like to take a walk in the back garden.”
Whisen’s face was colder than before.
What was that? Was he upset?
* * *
