Chapter 42
Dylan froze in an awkward position, unable to tightly embrace Agnès—but also unable to push her away.
For some reason, a familiar, fresh scent rose from her.
When Agnès lifted her head from his chest and smiled, her face was red like a fully ripened apple. She looked excited, unable to contain her happiness.
“Your Grace, thanks to you, I think everything will work out. It really seems like I’ll be able to raise Noah myself. You think so too, don’t you?”
She chattered on cheerfully, then suddenly realized where she was—and whose arms she was in.
Startled, she quickly pulled away.
“Ah—s-sorry! I’m sorry!”
Dylan steadied her back so she wouldn’t stumble as she hurried backward.
“It’s fine. People believe we’re engaged because we love each other, so this level of physical contact won’t seem strange.”
“Y-yes… that’s true.”
With her ears turning red, Agnès stepped a little closer to him again.
Dylan looked down at her and gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
Then, suddenly, he felt that this situation wasn’t unfamiliar.
Standing this close—so close their chests almost touched—meeting her eyes, sensing her clean scent with every breath… All of it felt strangely familiar.
Even the faint regret he felt when she moved away and the light feeling of her weight when he pulled her back—none of it felt new.
It made no sense, but it was true.
Had he ever held Agnès like this before?
They were only political partners. They had never shared such intimate contact even once.
“I think… It’s okay for us to separate now. Being this close in a sacred courtroom might not be appropriate.”
Agnès smiled awkwardly and quickly slipped out of his arms.
Seeing her flustered expression, memories finally surfaced in Dylan’s mind.
When he drank her blood.
This time, Dylan covered his mouth with his hand to hide his shock.
He had believed he only pressed his lips to her arm—something restrained and clinical.
But every time he fed, he had been only half-conscious, and it seemed he had pulled Agnès tightly into his arms each time.
Why?
Even losing reason, that didn’t excuse it.
Did I really behave that rudely?
Dylan had never once engaged in unnecessary physical contact with a woman in his life. It wasn’t something a gentleman did—and more importantly, he had never met a woman who made him want to.
What shocked him most was that Agnès had endured it all without ever pushing him away.
Once the feeding ended, she always slipped out of his arms on her own, which was why Dylan—drunk on blood—barely remembered what had happened.
Letting out a silent groan, Dylan wondered how he should apologize… and how he should behave from now on.
Agnès and Dylan stood side by side in thick, awkward silence, unable to say a word.
Then the priest reappeared, holding Noah’s hand.
As if the air had become unbearable, Agnès took a deep breath and quickly walked toward them.
Her joy at seeing Noah again soon washed away her awkwardness. Left behind in that strange atmosphere was Dylan alone.
Taking Noah’s hand from the priest, Agnès asked with a hopeful expression,
“P-Priest… how did it go? Until the gods give their answer, where will Noah stay?”
Though the conclusion was practically decided, she still looked anxious, afraid something might go wrong.
Perhaps that sincerity didn’t leave a bad impression—because for the first time, the priest smiled at Agnès.
“Until the gods deliver their judgment, Noah Overhan should remain in Lady Everchen’s care. The child strongly wishes for it as well.”
“Oh… my goodness.”
Agnès covered her mouth as tears welled in her eyes. Holding Noah’s hand tightly, she bowed repeatedly.
“Thank you, Priest. Thank you so much. I will never forget this kindness. I swear to pray faithfully and raise this child with love and devotion. I will do everything in my power so you never regret this decision.”
At her endless words, the priest laughed and waved his hand.
“That’s enough. The gods will judge your sincerity now. Offer your thanks to them.”
“Yes, Priest. Thank you.”
After offering her final gratitude, Agnès gently held Noah’s hand and returned to Dylan.
Her expression was so bright that even Dylan, who had been standing awkwardly, smiled back.
“You’ve done well, my lady. Noah must be shaken, so let’s return to the townhouse first.”
The three of them left the courtroom together, walking proudly—nothing like Rickman being dragged away by guards.
When they reached the carriage, Dylan instinctively moved to escort Agnès, but then he looked down at Noah.
Noah clung to Agnès’s leg and stared up at Dylan.
Agnès looked between the two with an awkward expression, then lightly patted Noah’s back.
“Noah, you shouldn’t stare at His Grace like that.”
“Mom.”
Noah spoke more clearly than before and pointed at Dylan.
Startled, Agnès quickly held his small hand.
“Noah, you shouldn’t point at His Grace.”
Noah immediately lowered his hand, but his curious expression remained. He seemed to be wondering who this man beside his mother really was.
Dylan looked down at Noah and smiled faintly.
“I’ll explain once we’re in the carriage.”
He then slipped his hands under Noah’s arms and lifted him into the carriage.
Startled, Noah flailed his legs and stretched his arms toward Agnès, as if trying to return to her.
As Agnès hurried to climb in after him, Dylan extended his hand to her.
“Ah—sorry.”
She apologized and accepted his escort into the carriage.
Once all three were inside, Dylan lightly tapped on the window toward the driver’s seat.
The carriage began to move.
Sitting pressed closely against Agnès, Noah stared at Dylan again. His green eyes were filled with a mix of caution and curiosity.
“Mom.”
Noah tugged gently on Agnès’s arm.
Since the only word he had fully recovered was “Mom,” he called her often. Agnès stroked his hair and hesitated.
She needed to introduce Dylan—but didn’t know how to explain it.
“Noah, this is His Grace, the Duke of Basteron. He’s the one who helped Mom and you meet again. He’s also the one who will prepare a place for us to live from now on. And, um…”
She hesitated, unsure how to explain marriage to a child.
Dylan, arms crossed, quietly watched the conversation.
Normally he would have helped—but honestly, he didn’t know what to say either.
The only child Dylan had ever met was his sister Kali’s son, Wilhelm.
And since he hadn’t influenced Wilhelm’s upbringing at all, that experience was useless here.
A fiancée’s child—this was entirely new territory.
For the first time in his life, Dylan felt at a loss in conversation.
Still, he calmly spoke to the child.
“You and your mother will stay here a little longer, then go north to Basteron. I’ll make sure you can live comfortably there, so you don’t need to worry.”
But neither Agnès’s explanation nor Dylan’s words answered Noah’s real questions.
He understood that this man was the Duke of Basteron—but why was he with his mom? Why did he have to follow him?
Unable to put it into words, Noah thumped his chest in frustration.
Agnès gently held his small fist and whispered,
“Mom will explain everything slowly, okay? Can you promise me?”
She held out her pinky finger.
Noah, slightly sulky, linked his pinky with hers and even sealed the promise—while still keeping a wary eye on Dylan.
