Episode 7
“From now on, I’d like it if you called me by my name. I want people to see us as a couple who married for love.”
He added that extra bit even though he didn’t really need to.
Roxana had thought he looked a little displeased for a while — so it must’ve been the way she addressed him that bothered him.
“Ah. Sure,” she agreed easily.
Though, honestly, she wasn’t ready to start calling him by name yet. It still felt awkward and strange.
“Well, if I’m being honest, it looked like you liked it too. If you can’t remember, I could help you remember right now—”
Before he could finish, Roxana threw herself across the table and slapped her hand over his mouth.
Asterion blinked wide-eyed at her sudden move.
It was rare to see him show such a raw, genuine expression — usually, he looked indifferent or unreadable around her.
But of course… a man that handsome looked good no matter what face he made.
Their faces were suddenly close — so close that Roxana’s cheeks grew warm.
She could feel the soft shape of his lips pressing faintly against her palm.
Flustered, she pulled her hand away and quickly sat back down.
Asterion, meanwhile, had the nerve to look completely calm — as if nothing embarrassing had happened — which only made her even more annoyed.
“That’s not what I meant! I don’t have any experience except with you, but even I know this isn’t normal!”
“I’m perfectly normal,” he said, sounding genuinely offended.
“You’re too much, that’s what!”
Roxana almost shouted.
And Asterion… he knew she wasn’t wrong.
But from his side, things weren’t exactly simple either.
Once you’ve experienced it, your body remembers. It reacts. And it was driving him crazy.
Roxana had been avoiding him for over ten days now, and the frustration was reaching its peak.
He’d buried himself in work, trying to distract his mind — but it was getting harder every day.
At this rate, it was torture.
He thought of the old saying “pillow litigation” and sighed.
It suddenly made sense — some arguments could only happen in bed.
“This clearly needs a mutual agreement,” he said finally.
That was exactly what Roxana had been waiting for.
“Good. Let’s agree and make an addendum to the contract.”
“What kind of conditions do you want?”
“Twice a week.”
He looked at her like she’d just sentenced him to death.
“What, are you trying to kill me? I’m in my prime!”
“If I spend even one night with you, I’ll end up bedridden for at least two days!”
“That’s”
Asterion started to argue, then stopped.
Because it was true.
Still, from his point of view, avoiding intimacy wasn’t really an option — it was part of her treatment.
But somewhere along the line, that clear line between “treatment” and “desire” had completely blurred.
Now, he wasn’t even sure where one ended and the other began.
He swallowed dryly, licking his lips unconsciously.
“Do what I want, and I’ll give you what you want.”
“Like what? Power?” she asked.
“Not that. Things like jewelry or money.”
If she gained too much real power as Duchess, it could put her in danger — and that was the last thing he wanted.
“No, thank you,” Roxana said flatly.
The idea of receiving money or gifts in exchange for sex made her stomach twist. She already had plenty from her allowance — she didn’t need more.
“Then…”
He trailed off, clearly out of ideas.
“Even if our marriage started as a contract, we’re still a real couple now. I don’t need a reward — just fewer times per week, that’s all.”
He looked at her like she’d surprised him.
“Fine. But just so you know, I want it every day.”
Roxana’s jaw dropped.
“Wait, you’re not trying to start over from zero, are you?”
“No. But you should consider my needs too. We’ll do it every day — I’ll just… control myself a little.”
“That doesn’t sound convincing at all! Three times a week. That’s my final offer.”
She drew a firm line.
“If we do it every other day, you’ll end up suffering more,” he said coolly. “You’ll try to make up for lost time each time — and I won’t be able to hold back.”
“Cough—!”
Roxana choked on her tea, sputtering.
Asterion handed her his handkerchief, which she quickly used to wipe her lips.
His tone had been so calm that it almost sounded like a prophecy — and she already knew it was probably true.
Just talking about it made her whole face burn. But if she wanted to survive this marriage, she needed to set clear boundaries.
“If you do it every day but in moderation, your body might adapt faster,” he continued, totally serious.
“Fine. Every day, but only once each time.”
“That’s not fair! That’s less than three times a week!”
She’d expected him to say that — that’s exactly why she said “once” in the first place.
Otherwise, she knew he’d keep pushing until he got the upper hand.
She cursed his endless stamina in her head.
“Two times. That’s it. I won’t compromise any further.”
“I thought you’d at least say five.”
“Are you insane? I’m trying to stay alive! I’m not dying from overexertion just to please you!”
Asterion stared at her, half-exasperated, half-amused.
Despite her innocent looks, she had no filter at all. Maybe that came from living among servants for so long.
Still, it was better than her staying silent like before.
“Three times,” he said firmly. “That’s as low as I’ll go.”
“That’s too much. Two. If there’s a special reason, we’ll discuss it that day — depending on how I feel.”
She offered a reluctant compromise.
“Deal,” Asterion finally agreed.
He didn’t say it out loud, but he was confident he could always talk her into that “extra time.”
Poor, innocent Roxana had no idea.
【 ‘I must look like a beast.’ 】
‘Even sword masters have their limits,’ Roxana thought.
“Also, any skipped days due to my cycle don’t get extended or added later. And if you’re too busy one night, that counts too. No make-up sessions.”
Asterion nodded obediently.
And that’s how they sealed their deal.
“Every day, two times, with an optional third by mutual consent.”
When Asterion was about to leave, he paused and glanced back.
“When you have time, come by my office.”
“Why?” she asked, curious.
He looked surprised she hadn’t realized it already. He’d assumed she’d eventually come to him on her own.
“I can’t give you political power, but you should still have something of your own.”
“Oh!” she said, remembering his words from when he’d proposed that their marriage would be mutually beneficial.
It was late, but she had no reason to refuse.
“Alright,” she agreed.
When he left, Roxana finally let out a breath.
She hadn’t fallen in love with him at first sight.
When the former duchess passed away, she’d just needed somewhere to anchor her restless heart.
Somewhere along the line, he had become that place.
When he proposed, she’d hesitated — thinking she couldn’t handle a loveless marriage.
But when he said he’d simply find someone else if she refused, her heart decided for her.
‘If he’s going to marry a woman he doesn’t love anyway, it might as well be me.’
That’s what she’d told herself.
Because she couldn’t stand the thought of seeing another woman by his side.
Asterion would probably never know — but Roxana was happy to be his wife.
Meanwhile, after leaving her chambers, Asterion covered his face with one hand.
His golden hair half-hid his ears, which had turned bright red.
“Haa…”
He’d managed to “win the night,” and yet, his chest ached.
He couldn’t stop thinking, ‘She must see me as nothing but an animal.’
And honestly, he couldn’t deny it.
Sighing bitterly, he dragged his feet back toward his office.
Once there, he called for Alec.
The man arrived quickly, breathing hard from running.
Before Alec could even speak, Asterion asked the same question he’d already asked before the wedding.
“I just have to follow your prescription, right?”
“Of course, my lord,” Alec said solemnly. “As long as you keep spending nights with the madam regularly — and use proper contraception — there should be no problems.”
Asterion finally relaxed a little and waved him off.
Alec bowed deeply and hurried out.
‘Three years,’ Asterion thought.
‘No matter what, I have to keep her by my side for at least three years.’
He turned to the window, looking out at the bright green trees.
In his deep blue eyes burned a quiet, determined obsession.
When he’d proposed to Roxana, he hadn’t planned on sharing a bed with her.
He just wanted her close — so he could protect her in his own way.
But the moment he learned she was suffering from Elf Vein Disorder, everything changed.
His entire resolve twisted in an instant.
Asterion dragged a hand down his face.
I wanted to take it slow. I really did.’
He’d had no choice — her condition left him with none.
But that didn’t make him feel any less like a scoundrel.
And no — his proposal hadn’t been because of the Crown Prince faction’s pressure, no matter what the rumors said.
As he brooded, a memory surfaced — something that had happened before the proposal, something ugly.
That day, Asterion had been walking through the capital’s busy streets in disguise.
Just as he was about to turn into a narrow alley, he heard a harsh voice:
“Hey! Grab that girl!”
“But, my lord — she’s from the Kailani Duchy—!”
Asterion froze mid-step. His head turned sharply toward the voices.
A small group of men stood nearby, staring at a young woman examining fruit at a stall.
Black hair. Graceful figure. Familiar face.
‘Roxana Avelio.’
She had a delicate body, her features still soft with youth — the kind that made people instinctively want to protect her.
Though she’d already turned twenty, she still looked much younger.
“Quit whining and bring her here.”
The words made Asterion’s blood boil. His eyes turned cold as steel.
He glared at the fat man giving orders — Viscount Niko, a disgusting man with a reputation to match.
