Episode 4
I carefully examined the dress Castian had handed me.
It was adorned with lace along the bodice and sleeves—exactly the kind of princess dress you’d see in a romance webtoon, with exposed shoulders and a tightly cinched waist.
Beautiful, yes. But also… problematic.
“How are you even supposed to wear this?”
I turned the dress this way and that, inspecting the tightly lined buttons down the back. After unfastening them, I made sure Castian was facing away, standing stiffly like a statue. Only then did I peel off the black dress that looked more fit for a witch.
I pulled the cream-colored dress over my head, but as expected, the buttons down the back were the real issue.
I managed to fasten the lower ones somehow, but my hands simply couldn’t reach the ones near the top. I twisted my arms behind me, trying to reach—only to nearly pull a shoulder muscle.
“Agh, damn it…”
Castian flinched at my grumbling.
He must’ve heard me struggling, because his voice came out cautiously.
“Is something wrong?”
“No, it’s just—Ugh, seriously.”
This wasn’t going to work. Unless my arms were made of rubber, there was no way I could do this alone.
Letting out a sigh, I threw my black hooded cloak back on. I couldn’t just go around with my back completely exposed.
As I tied the black ribbon at the neck of the cloak, Castian spoke again.
“Lydia?”
“I’m dressed,” I replied.
When he turned around to look at me, he frowned as if he’d just found cat poop on his bed.
“Why are you wearing that black thing over it?”
“Well, I—”
“Take it off.”
“Can’t I just leave it on?”
I asked as politely as I could, but the glare he returned was sharp and unyielding.
Seriously? If someone’s going to be this rigid, shouldn’t they at least ask why?
Being a prickly male lead is fine when you’re just a character in a novel or on a screen—but real life? Not so much.
Who said hot guys get a free pass to micromanage someone’s outfit? Huh?
Did he think I wanted to wear this?
Unable to argue back out of sheer intimidation, I tossed off the cloak and turned around, showing him my back.
“Then at least help me fasten it!”
Why even bring a dress that’s impossible to put on alone?
Grumbling under my breath, I presented my back to him—but there was no response.
After a long silence, I glanced over my shoulder—only to find Castian frozen, his neck twisted at an alarming angle.
What… what is he doing?
Any more, and he’d snap his spine.
Still trying to avoid looking at me, Castian stood like a statue, clearly overwhelmed.
“Can you just help with the buttons?” I asked again.
“W-Why would I do that?!”
“Then call someone else.”
“You want someone else to see you like this?!”
“What else am I supposed to do?”
I shot back, and for once, he didn’t have a comeback.
Can’t wear the cloak, can’t call someone else, can’t help me himself—what does he want me to do?
Turns out, the real Castian was way more high-maintenance than the fictional one I’d read about.
“Ugh…”
I let out a loud sigh of frustration, which made him twitch like someone had slapped him.
After a long moment, he turned toward me with a solemn expression, like a man accepting his fate.
“I’ll do it. Just don’t move.”
He reached out toward my back.
I swept my long hair over my shoulder to keep it out of the way.
Now that it wasn’t covering my back, it should’ve been easier, but Castian suddenly barked out,
“I said, don’t move!”
What the heck. Even when he’s helping, he’s yelling.
I stuck out my lips in a silent pout and stayed completely still while he began fastening the buttons—very, very slowly. Like someone doing it for the first time in his life.
At this rate, I was honestly worried the sun would set before he finished.
Just as he reached the last button, a knock sounded at the door.
“Castian, it’s me.”
“…Mother?”
Castian’s voice was laced with panic as the door opened—and in walked his mother, Ellicia.
“I thought you’d be busy, so I came in…”
Both Castian and I—and even Ellicia herself—froze on the spot.
An incredibly awkward silence settled over the room.
Finally, it was Ellicia who broke it.
“…Did I interrupt something?”
“N-No, Mother.”
Castian quickly dropped his hands from my back and straightened up.
Ellicia’s amber eyes passed over her son, then slowly scanned me from head to toe.
Ellicia Bernstein—former Duchess of House Bernstein.
Known as the matriarch of the Bernstein Duchy, she was often described in the novel as even more intimidating than Castian himself.
Although she’d stepped down after Castian inherited the title, she was still one of the most influential figures in the Bernstein family—and in the entire Heimnad Empire.
With her deep brown hair and piercing amber eyes, she had the kind of cold, imposing aura that made you think she wouldn’t bleed even if you stabbed her.
And her personality matched her looks—so much so that even Castian was said to be wary of her.
Even without all that context, the situation was… extremely awkward.
After all, her grown son had just been caught in his room, hands on a woman’s half-fastened dress.
It didn’t matter whether he’d been buttoning or unbuttoning it—it looked bad either way.
“I don’t recognize her,” Ellicia said, eyes still on me. Then she turned to her son. “Who is she?”
“She’s a mage who’s been helping me.”
Castian gave a simple, factual reply, smoothly avoiding unnecessary details.
Just as expected from a man carrying the fate of the empire—he was a master of quick thinking.
I smiled as sweetly and harmlessly as I could at the woman practically X-raying me with her eyes.
“My name is Lydia, Madam.”
The old saying that you can’t spit on a smiling face had never felt so relevant.
Thankfully, Ellicia didn’t spit.
Instead, she studied me for a moment longer, then spoke with a tone laced with subtle implication.
“Very well. I’ll ask about the help another time.”
It sounded like layers of misunderstanding were piling up—but I couldn’t exactly clarify.
I’m actually a necromancer who’s currently keeping your son alive by holding onto his soul, you see? Yeah, probably not the best thing to say right now.
In this case, letting her misunderstand was probably safer than telling the truth.
Ignoring my awkward smile, Ellicia turned to Castian.
“I heard you’re about to depart. You declined His Majesty’s send-off ceremony?”
“Yes, Mother. I plan to move as discreetly as possible.”
“What of the Imperial Army?”
“I’ve ordered them to surround the enemy’s base and await further instructions.”
“His Majesty holds high expectations for this campaign, Castian.”
“I’m aware.”
“Good. I’m sure you’ll handle it well. But… you don’t look well.”
Ellicia’s sharp eyes narrowed as Castian ran a hand over his pale face.
Seeing his deathly complexion, I also felt a twinge of guilt.
His body, still under a preservation spell from shortly after his death, was essentially in a freeze-dried state.
Once I restored him with divine power, he’d return to normal—but until then, he definitely didn’t look his best.
And there was no way his mother wouldn’t notice the difference.
Caught off guard, Castian tensed but quickly steeled his expression.
“I’m fine, Mother.”
His voice was cold, clipped.
Ellicia’s expression wavered—just for a second—then she smoothed it over again and gave a stern reminder.
“Don’t forget that you are the Duke of House Bernstein.”
“I haven’t, Mother.”
Their conversation was as dry and emotionless as a military debriefing. No one would’ve guessed they were mother and son.
Just before leaving the room, Ellicia cast one last glance in my direction.
I made sure to keep my most harmless, innocent smile plastered on.
Without a word, she turned and exited.
Immediately after, Eden entered the room.
“Lord Castian, the preparations for departure are complete.”
“Let’s go.”
Castian slipped on his jacket and fastened his sword belt.
I stood there, entranced, watching him fasten his cufflinks and run a hand through his hair.
In that moment, his gaze shifted—and it was exactly the look I had imagined while reading the novel.
He turned, the hem of his jacket swishing as he walked away.
I was still staring at him in a daze when Eiden snapped at me in an annoyed voice.
“What are you standing there for, necromancer? Get moving.”
“R-Right!”
I grabbed fistfuls of my long skirt and chased after Castian and Eden.
Both of them had legs for days, so I had to half-jog just to keep up.
And don’t even get me started on the stairs—there were so many.
As I hurried down, my foot caught on the hem of my skirt.
“Eek!”
I was about to faceplant into the floor when something stopped me.
Castian.
He caught me just in time, pulled me upright, and then brushed his hand off my waist with a displeased tone.
“Can’t you even walk properly?”
“This skirt is way too long!”
Seriously, next time bring something that fits me, will you?
I grumbled under my breath, clutching the skirt up and—
A white object suddenly appeared in front of my face.
“Here.”
I blinked, glancing from the pale hand to his icy blue eyes.
Here? Here… what?
