Chapter 15
“Isabella is tired. Go and comfort her.”
Clara and Angela looked at Isabella.
“Right, Isabella?”
Cleor asked again.
Cleor leaned close to Isabella’s ear and whispered softly.
“If you say no here, I’ll have to clash swords with my mother. Are you trying to make me the most unfilial husband in the world?”
She didn’t want this harmonious family to fall apart because of her.
She would disappear anyway.
And more than anything, she was sick of blood.
For some reason, she had a bad feeling that if this family fought, it would end in bloodshed.
Isabella forced the corners of her lips up.
“I want to rest a little.”
Isabella spoke with difficulty.
Clara and Angela, who had been making such a fuss just moments ago, suddenly became gentle and apologized repeatedly to Isabella.
“Oh my, we interrupted our baby’s rest.”
Isabella gave a bitter smile.
A baby?
She hadn’t even heard that when she actually was a baby, yet now she was hearing it as a grown adult.
And right next to Angela, who was calling her “our baby,” was Clara—who was obviously much younger than Isabella and had only just passed the baby stage herself.
“Isabella unni, I’m sorry. Unni, would you like to move to my room even now?”
Clara asked, still reluctant to let go.
Isabella rolled her eyes and looked at Cleor.
He was staring at Clara with an indifferent expression, but one side of the blanket was pinned under his hips.
And even though he knew it, he made no effort to move.
“It seems Isabella can barely even talk, so please leave now.”
In the end, Clara and Angela couldn’t punish the kidnapper.
They bit their lips in frustration.
Their identical expressions made Isabella’s chest itch strangely.
The backs of those who had charged in so confidently as self-proclaimed agents of justice now looked lonely.
“Are you very cold? I’ll tell them to light the fireplace in the fifth-floor room.”
Cleor placed a thick blanket over Isabella, who was wrapped tightly in a feather quilt.
It was warm, but a little heavy.
Isabella squirmed, trying to pull her hand out.
In the meantime, Cleor told Betty to add more fire to the fireplace and picked up the door Clara had blown off, fitting it back into the empty frame.
Fortunately, only a hole had been punched through the center; the shape wasn’t warped, so it fit back perfectly.
As long as there wasn’t another impact, it would block the wind well enough.
The hole in the middle, though… there was nothing to be done about that.
“What are you doing, Isabella?”
“It’s a bit heavy.”
Unable to pull her hand free, Isabella asked Cleor for help.
“If I remove the blanket, you’ll be cold. Then you’ll cough again and spit blood like last time.”
Isabella couldn’t deny it.
“Is it suffocating?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
If she said it was just heavy, how ridiculous would she sound?
Small, cute Clara carried around a hammer almost as big as herself.
She even swung it and blew a door away.
Not only that—she broke a wall with a cushion.
It was unbelievable.
People from the North were supposed to be strong, but were they all like the people of House Noverdic?
“That’s impossible…”
“What did you say?”
Isabella flinched when Cleor reacted to her muttering.
How did this man catch even her tiny voice so accurately?
Was that because he was from the North too?
“…It’s heavy.”
Cleor waited until Isabella answered.
Under his quiet, downward gaze, she eventually said it.
Isabella closed her eyes.
It wouldn’t matter if he laughed.
But even after waiting for a while, she heard no laughter.
“I’m sorry.”
Instead, an unfamiliar apology reached her ears.
“I didn’t think of that.”
And the blanket moved away from her body.
Isabella opened her eyes.
And she saw it.
Cleor throwing off his jacket and unbuttoning his shirt.
“Cleor? A-Are you going to wash?”
She stammered without realizing.
It wasn’t the first time she’d seen his bare body, but his words made her strangely self-conscious.
“No.”
Cleor finished unbuttoning his shirt and began undoing the cuffs.
Through the open shirt, his well-defined muscles looked like perfectly made pudding.
As if a fork would bounce back if you poked it.
“Then why…?”
Why are you taking off your clothes?
Isabella was flustered, but Cleor was completely calm.
He wasn’t thinking of anything special.
She said she was cold, and the blanket was heavy, so he just wanted to warm her up.
In winter, people often got trapped in the Forest of Lament.
Cleor taught his knights that they should survive even if it meant stripping naked and sharing body heat.
He was simply doing what he had learned and taught.
This wasn’t the Forest of Lament, and there was a blazing fireplace, but for her, it was probably just as cold.
But Isabella’s reaction was cute.
She stuttered, looked flustered, and fumbled with her lips.
Seeing this unfamiliar side of her made Cleor want to tease her.
“You are the Grand Duchess-to-be. I am the Grand Duke-to-be. Now, does that explain why I’m taking off my clothes?”
“We’re not married yet.”
Wrapped up like a caterpillar in the blanket, Isabella spoke sternly.
Cleor thought again,
‘Cute.’
He casually sat down on the bed.
He could feel her wriggling busily inside the blanket.
He wanted to tease her more, but Cleor knew when to stop.
Over the past few days, he had learned that even being alert was exhausting for her.
“Stay still.”
Cleor put on an expressionless face.
If he smiled foolishly, she would probably feel embarrassed.
He pulled off the blanket.
Just as he expected, Isabella was curled up stiffly, making herself as small as possible.
Something hot spread in his chest.
Cleor grimaced.
Then he pulled Isabella into his arms.
“W-Wait.”
Her weak resistance continued, but once he embraced even that into his arms, it soon faded.
“This is…”
“Treatment. Your body just barely recovered—you shouldn’t get weak again.”
To Isabella, it sounded like he was saying, “It’s a hassle.”
Because of her illness, Cleor hadn’t been able to take care of any personal matters.
But that wasn’t what she wanted.
“So… don’t worry about me.”
Isabella stopped moving.
Even though he must have heard her, Cleor didn’t reply.
He simply wrapped her limp arms and legs around his own body.
The heat blooming from Cleor’s body transferred to Isabella.
His skin shone smoothly like well-glazed porcelain.
His tanned warrior’s skin contrasted with Isabella’s pale flesh.
Right in front of her eyes was his solid, muscular chest.
Isabella took a deep breath.
From his body came the scent of sprouts breaking through ice.
A good smell.
“Don’t be nervous. It makes me nervous too.”
“Am I nervous?”
Isabella lifted her head.
As if he had been watching her the whole time, their eyes met immediately.
Flustered, Isabella turned her gaze away.
She had never been this close to anyone in her life.
Sharing body heat like this wasn’t something she was used to.
She didn’t know what she was supposed to do in a situation like this.
“I told you—it’s treatment. It’s cold in the North.”
She felt much warmer than when she was just under the blanket.
So this was treatment.
Still, it was uncomfortable.
If her body temperature rose quickly, would his treatment end sooner?
Then maybe it would be better to participate actively.
“So… what should I do?”
“…It would be good if you wrapped your arms around my waist.”
His voice trembled strangely.
She took her hands out from in front of her chest.
Cleor shifted his body as if it tickled.
He could feel Isabella’s movements vividly, as if they were engraved into his body.
Cleor’s nerves tightened.
And when Isabella’s hands hesitantly wrapped around his waist, his mind exploded with a bang.
Late at night, after Isabella fell asleep, Cleor quietly left the room.
He had confidently told Clara and the others that he would share the room with Isabella, but he wasn’t confident.
Not confident that he could hold her small body and remain calm.
Cleor headed to the study.
He planned to sleep there and return before Isabella woke up.
And there was someone he needed to meet.
Cleor’s study was right next to his bedroom.
There was a reason the castle was designed with such a rare structure where the study and bedroom were connected.
In the early days of establishing the North, it took enormous time and effort.
Every minute and second was precious.
He opened the study door.
In the darkness, a black shadow slid forward.
“Demor.”
One of Cleor’s closest aides—the one Whitney said was hard to control—and a leader of the Black Wolf pack had arrived.
“Turn on a light next time.”
Even though Demor had appeared suddenly, Cleor calmly turned on the lamp and sat at his desk.
Demor pulled down his black mask and greeted him formally.
“We’ve captured Johan from the Solstella Temple.”
Demor handed over a crumpled piece of paper.
Cleor unfolded it and read the densely written text.
‘Whitney did well.’
Johan had said he knew about Isabella’s medicine. Cleor tapped the desk with his finger.
“Anything else?”
“There are strange rumors circulating about House Helsington.”
“What kind?”
“Rumors about Miss Isabella.”
“What rumors?”
“That House Noverdic accepted Isabella as a bride in order to offer her as a sacrifice. That House Helsington had no choice but to send Miss Isabella because they were threatened by House Noverdic.”
Cleor’s brow furrowed deeply.
His lips twisted.
More than the dishonor to the duchy, he was furious that they had turned her into gossip.
“Tell Whitney to find out more about the rumors.”
Cleor took a deep breath.
“Yes, sir. I’ll do as ordered.”
Demor’s voice trembled slightly with excitement.
His master was angry.
The day when real blood would be spilled was approaching.
“What about the doctors?”
“They’re locked up in the underground dungeon. Should I torture them one by one?”
“Why on earth did you lock the doctors in the dungeon?”
Cleor shook his head.
