* * *
Eren opened his tightly shut eyes and snapped back to his senses at the sight before him.
“Are you all right?”
“…Ah.”
Still stunned, Eren gave a small nod in response to Melody’s question.
It wasn’t hard to figure out what that sound had been.
Ashard lay unconscious on the floor, a vivid red bruise stretching along his neck.
‘…Did she knock him out in one hit?’
As Eren opened and closed his mouth in speechless disbelief, Melody casually slung Ashard over her shoulder and said,
“Her Majesty asked me to intervene.”
As Eren looked at her in confusion, Melody added,
“If it looked like Uncle was about to do something he’d regret, I was to knock him out.”
That… probably wasn’t what the Empress literally meant.
But then Eren remembered her offering him a Rotellan sedative not long ago and gave a sheepish, knowing smile.
Even as he smiled, his eyes didn’t leave Ashard.
Noticing the worry in his gaze, Melody commented in a matter-of-fact tone:
“He won’t be out long. He’ll wake up in under an hour.”
“Oh…”
“He gets like this when he hasn’t slept in days.”
With practiced ease, Melody carried Ashard into the next room and tossed him onto the bed like a sack of grain.
Then she began collecting every bottle of alcohol in the room.
She’s not seriously planning to drink…?
Eren’s eyes trembled in panic, but Melody pointed at Ashard with a glance.
“Uncle is more vulnerable to sleep than to alcohol. If he wakes up and starts drinking now, it won’t just end with a blackout.”
There was a cold edge to her voice—a clear warning that if it happened again, she wouldn’t stop at just the back of the neck.
Seeing her glare at Ashard, Eren realized she meant it.
“Count, would you keep an eye on him for a bit? Just make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid again. I have something to finish.”
“…Sure, I can do that.”
“If he turns into a madman again, just hit him on the nape—hard.”
A m-madman… the nape…?
Words Eren never expected to hear from such a refined young lady came flying at him.
With a charming smile, Melody left him behind.
Exactly one hour later.
As Melody had said, Ashard regained consciousness much faster than expected.
Thankfully, his eyes weren’t wild anymore.
Sitting up in bed, he looked at Eren as if silently asking what had happened.
“You said you’d make sure I never forgot—but it looks like you’re the one who doesn’t remember anything.”
“…I said that?”
“You did something huge to me, you know.”
Eren exaggerated, despite the situation not being that bad.
Still, Ashard looked truly puzzled, even remorseful.
“Sorry. I haven’t slept in a long time. I wasn’t in my right mind.”
“Really? Then could you do me a favor?”
“A favor?”
Catching the opportunity before it slipped away, Eren reached out and tugged on Ashard’s hand, his voice bright with intent as he, now fully dressed in the robe, leaned in closer.
“Let’s go outside the mansion.”
“…Right now?”
“I’ve taken care of the urgent documents, and it seems Princess Melody is handling the rest.”
Eren had seen her toss Ashard onto the bed and head straight into his office.
Judging by the fact that she hadn’t come out for a while and aides of the Fridit family were going in and out, she was probably managing his duties for him.
‘I do feel a little bad for Her Highness. But since she’s already working, might as well ask for a bit more.’
Eren did feel a twinge of guilt—but hey, he’d been the one waiting all this time.
He’d been cooped up in the mansion for over a month and a half.
When he tugged on Ashard’s hand again as if to say, “Come on,” Ashard sighed and got out of bed, seemingly giving in.
“Give me a moment. I need to get ready too.”
Ah.
Eren had been in such a rush, worried they might miss their chance to leave.
Realizing Ashard’s disheveled state only now, he quickly gave him a push on the back, urging him to get changed.
It was a weak protest—he couldn’t just say they weren’t going out after bringing it up so confidently.
Eren waited outside while Ashard got ready.
When he finally stepped out, Eren scanned him quickly—then shook his head disapprovingly.
‘He’s planning to go out… looking like that?’
Without hesitation, Eren shoved him back into the room.
His expression made it clear he wouldn’t allow Ashard to step outside in that state.
“What’s the problem? I’m already dressed,” Ashard said.
“You’re supposed to be the Duke of Fridit. What if someone sees you and says, ‘Your Grace, are you on official duty today?’ Go put on a robe or something!”
“I don’t have one.”
“…What?”
“You’re wearing mine.”
Ashard smirked as he adjusted the robe Eren had borrowed earlier.
Same attitude, same kind of line as before.
‘Don’t tell me he’s pretending not to remember again?!’
“I saw you have plenty more! Just hurry up and change!”
If she left him alone, they’d never get out the door.
Eren quickly slammed the door shut.
When it reopened, Ashard was finally dressed to Eren’s satisfaction.
“Where exactly do you want to go so badly?”
“Hm…”
Eren hesitated for a second, then suddenly lit up.
“The theater!”
“…The theater?”
Ashard raised his brows at Eren’s innocent grin.
Usually, a play was meant purely for entertainment—or so Eren had thought.
But the joy of finally being out again and the anticipation of the performance made him smile brightly.
The theater Ashard took him to was almost blindingly extravagant.
The building itself was luxurious, decorated with what looked like incredibly expensive paintings.
“Let’s go in.”
Eren, too busy admiring the place, didn’t hear Ashard at first.
The latter tapped his forehead lightly, snapping him out of his daze.
When he followed Ashard inside, he was led to a viewing box—enclosed on all sides except the front.
Draped entirely in deep red fabric, the space gave off an intense, almost sensual vibe.
The stage spread before them like a terrace, ornate and dramatic. Eren took a seat, impressed.
“…?”
The seat was long and soft—too wide and plush to be a chair.
It felt more like a bed than anything else.
On the table were some refreshments and a bottle of wine.
Ashard poured a glass and casually handed it to him.
“You know how to drink wine, right?”
“A bit.”
“Just taste it. Might be a little strong for you.”
Even the scent felt intoxicating.
Eren followed his advice and just wet his lips.
When the wine stained his lips a soft red, the stage curtain began to rise.
“I didn’t think you’d like this kind of thing,” Ashard said.
“Are there nobles who dislike theater?” Eren asked.
“Usually, yes.”
The unexpected answer made Eren glance over, puzzled.
But Ashard gave no further explanation.
The curtain rose fully, and the entire theater dimmed.
Darkness enveloped everything except the brightly lit stage, drawing all eyes forward.
Two actors stepped into the spotlight.
Eren’s eyes widened—were they the leads?
Excited, he focused completely, not wanting to miss a moment.
“Your taste is… unique,” came a murmur from beside him.
But Eren didn’t hear.
He was already immersed.
As the leads began moving closer together, the space between them shrinking, Eren’s bright eyes slowly dulled—then began trembling.
His face and neck suddenly felt hot. Was it the sip of wine earlier?
‘Wh-What the heck is this…?!’
He was frozen, unable to react. Only his face changed—growing redder by the second.
* * *
