* * *
Meanwhile, Zeroth continued his brutal training without sparing anyone.
The Crown Prince himself would bet the throne that ‘Zeroth Graham was the most despicable man alive.’
“Ahem. Maybe we should call it a day.”
“And why should I listen to a fool who hasn’t even earned his Master rank?”
“…And who might that fool be? Hm?”
Aihin clenched his jaw.
“What are you waiting for? Run.”
Yesterday, they had spent the entire day climbing a cliff, and today, they were back to running laps at the training ground.
The people at the training ground now looked like dry bread on the verge of crumbling apart.
Zeroth’s eyes never left Yuri.
Was he really supposed to hate him?
Aihin, tilting his head in doubt, started running again.
“Madam? What are you doing?”
Returning from training, Zeroth entered the drawing room, looking for Sylvian.
“Asleep again.”
Lately, Sylvian’s stamina seemed completely drained.
Zeroth scooped him up once more, feeling as if the weight he had only just gained was slipping away again.
“What did Madam do today?”
“He slept all day,” Luaia responded with a reluctant expression to Zeroth’s question.
“Why is he so weak these days?”
Well, that was obvious.
Because His Grace wouldn’t leave him alone.
She looked at the duke’s wife, who could barely get out of bed like in the early days of their marriage, with pity.
Words she couldn’t bring herself to say rolled around on her tongue.
Lately, their passion had reignited, and the moment their eyes met, things escalated.
Even the duke’s wife, who had been trying to expand his social activities, seemed to have given up.
He had canceled most of his appointments with endless apologies.
“Tell them to prepare more nourishing food.”
Following him up to the bedroom door, Luaia cursed the duke internally as she ran toward the kitchen.
“My wife has become quite the sleepyhead.”
Zeroth chuckled as he watched Sylvian sleep deeply.
Tomorrow, Yuri Holt would finally visit the house.
He recalled how excited Sylvian had been about it, meticulously preparing a formal dinner. It put him in a foul mood.
So, he had no choice but to keep holding onto him every night, refusing to let go.
Instead of harsh punishments, he had been learning new ways to play.
Sylvian’s body, sensitive as it was, responded exactly as he desired.
‘Maybe I’ll try the puppy tail today.’
A leash around his neck, tiny bells on his nipples—he imagined how pleasing the sound would be as he moved.
As he pondered how to torment Sylvian tonight, Zeroth idly played with his golden, molten-metal-like hair.
“Madam, for your happiness, it would be best if the Viscount’s house collapsed.”
Zeroth recalled the viscount’s dull, yellowish hair that resembled Sylvian’s.
He was probably enjoying the peak of his life right now.
All of it was according to Zeroth’s design.
He had deliberately arranged for some nobles to befriend him.
It was also his doing that rumors spread about the Duke Graham investing a large sum into the viscount.
Con men, hearing that the Duke trusted the viscount completely and would invest in whatever he suggested, flocked to him, bringing even more investors along.
“How foolish, believing it all so blindly.”
Sylvian’s innocence and the viscount’s gullibility were entirely different things.
Zeroth wondered when the viscount would finally show up, proposing a business deal.
All the letters in which the viscount listed his demands for Sylvian had been reported to Zeroth.
He must be ecstatic, thinking things were going exactly as he wished.
“When will he take the bait, I wonder?”
His hand pressed into the soft skin of Sylvian’s cheek.
The viscount, perhaps wary of gambling, hadn’t bet large sums as he once did.
His wife also seemed ready to storm into the ducal estate any day now, yet all she had sent so far were a few letters saying she missed her son.
“What should I do? Madam, how would you like your family to fall?”
Hugging the unresponsive Sylvian tightly, Zeroth contemplated the quietest way to erase the Viscount Nertian from existence.
“Zeroth, do I look okay?!”
Though it wasn’t a day for a party, Sylvian was dressed in a white outfit embroidered with gold thread, his face filled with nervous excitement as he called out to Zeroth.
Today, Yuri was visiting the Duke Graham’s estate.
Sylvian, imagining how Zeroth would fall for Yuri right before his eyes, was brimming with anticipation.
The Countess Holt had already informed him last week that Yuri had arrived in the capital.
Unaware that Zeroth and Yuri had already met, Sylvian was caught between the excitement of meeting the main protagonist and an inexplicable nervousness.
“Sylvian, calm down.”
When Zeroth opened his arms, Sylvian rushed into them.
Enveloped in his broad embrace, his heart finally settled a little.
But thinking that this was the end made him feel…
No! Get a grip!
He couldn’t dare covet the main protagonist’s partner.
He hadn’t even read half the book yet and had no idea how things would unfold.
One deviation was enough—Karl had already gone astray.
“The Holt couple are good people. I’m sure Yuri takes after them.”
His determination was admirable.
Even when he collapsed from exhaustion, he somehow managed to complete whatever orders he was given.
Recalling his dark skin and the sheen of his sweat, Zeroth frowned.
Hurriedly, he lowered his gaze to Sylvian’s soft, pristine skin.
His eyes and heart were instantly cleansed.
Perhaps Yuri had a certain charm, but he was nowhere near as lovable as Sylvian.
Yuri Holt was the picture of a robust, handsome man.
With a striking nose bridge and deep, captivating eyes, he naturally drew attention.
When he spoke with others, he laughed loudly—ha ha ha ha—enough to make one’s ears ring.
Even the smallest things about him were irritatingly charming.
If Sylvian picked up that loudness, it would be a disaster.
The very thought of Sylvian looking up to him gave Zeroth a headache.
He was bound to admire him.
There was no escaping it.
Yuri was going to be coming and going throughout the winter break—there was no way Zeroth could just stand by and watch.
“Right? He must be incredibly beautiful, just like the Countess Holt.”
Sylvian recalled the description from the book.
Yuri Holt was portrayed as someone vastly different from himself.
Golden hair as rich as a bountiful harvest, confident eyes that naturally drew gazes.
Not just handsome, but someone with a radiance more fitting for the sun itself.
Speaking as if lost in a dream, Sylvian failed to notice the way Zeroth’s expression was rotting away.
“I do hope he meets your expectations.”
I should have kept you in bed for a few more days.
Zeroth’s voice, though restrained, carried a tinge of regret.
“Let’s go down now. He’ll be arriving soon.”
Zeroth wanted nothing more than to keep Sylvian in his arms.
Last night, he had wanted to keep him crying in his grasp, but Sylvian had sniffled about his appointment with the Holt family, so he had let him sleep peacefully.
If he was going to cry anyway, he should have done it last night.
Yet, instead of holding onto him, Zeroth merely escorted him downstairs.
‘If Yuri makes Sylvian cry, I’ll kill him.’
Completely unaware of the murderous intent Zeroth harbored toward the main protagonist, Sylvian cheerfully descended the stairs.
He intended to greet Yuri humbly at the front door.
After all, this was a house he would be visiting as frequently as mealtime—Sylvian wanted to leave a good impression.
Ahem, ahem.
* * *
