CHAPTER 68……………….
Evangeline thought to herself:
“Am I dreaming right now?”
That was how shocking the sight before her was.
She had heard about Grand Duchess Aksion from the Empress many times.
Nearly like a curse.
“That dreadful, horrid old woman! She should’ve followed her husband and children to the grave already…!”
But this was her first time seeing her in person.
The elderly duchess carried such overwhelming dignity that even Evangeline faltered.
And yet, that same woman was now bowing before Hillia.
Evangeline knew that posture well.
It was the courtesy noblewomen showed to the Empress.
But the duchess, who had never offered such respect to Empress Isabel herself, had just shown it to Hillia.
“Impossible!”
Worse still, the dress incident—which Evangeline had considered her masterstroke—wasn’t taken seriously at all among these western nobles.
Instead, everyone sided with Hillia.
Then Evangeline’s gaze caught sight of Arpad, standing at a distance.
He wore a pristine white formal suit adorned with golden epaulettes, and his cravat was a bluish-violet shade that matched Hillia’s.
Even his cuffs bore amethyst, making him look different than usual.
Arpad’s expression, however, remained the same as ever.
Neither friendly nor hostile to anyone.
Just calmly looking down from above, detached.
Seeing that, Evangeline found a sliver of hope.
“Yes, this must all be for Arpad’s sake. The duchess and the western lords wouldn’t kneel for Hillia alone—they’re simply following Arpad’s will.”
Clinging to that thought, Evangeline leapt to her feet.
She ignored Hillia, whom she had tried to slander. She ignored the duchess who had chastised her.
She ignored even her attendants and Lady Filleren, who had spied and lied for her.
She saw only Arpad.
Her eyes brimmed with crystalline tears, her face the picture of sorrow and fragility.
“Brother!”
No one had foreseen such a move.
No one dared block her path.
And so Evangeline, unhindered, threw herself against Arpad’s chest.
The feel of the bluish-violet cravat beneath her fingers grated on her.
It was as though it proclaimed that Arpad belonged to another woman.
But she could not rip or wrinkle it now.
Instead, Evangeline pressed her face against it.
Her tears slowly seeped into the fine cloth.
Yet she wasn’t acting purely out of emotion.
She had her calculations.
In a voice only Arpad could hear, she whispered:
“Choose me, brother. I’ll shield you from the Empress. The West is already your stronghold—I’ll give you the Central.”
When Arpad’s broad shoulders flinched, Evangeline smiled.
I had prepared countermeasures for every possible scheme Evangeline might attempt—plans A through Z.
“But not this…”
I had never anticipated her flinging herself at Arpad, crying out “Brother!”
The moment I saw it—
My chest seized, as though something was lodged inside.
“What is this?”
My hand twitched before I knew it.
I had always been confident.
Confident I would never waver, never be shaken—
After all, I had lived through three regressions, suffering countless fates.
Three miserable deaths. Endless torments.
Evangeline’s petty theatrics were tiresome to me.
Yet somehow, this struck me hard.
I froze like a pillar of salt, unable to respond.
And I felt my heart racing with unease.
Not from hope or excitement, but from dread before something I desperately didn’t want to see.
Then Arpad’s lips parted.
“…Ma—”
But the sound was too soft to catch.
“Yes, brother?”
Evangeline looked up at him through her tears, asking again.
In that instant, Arpad seized her wrist in a rough grip.
Thud.
My heart, pounding with dread, seemed to sink beneath my ribs.
“No, surely not—”
But my fear was unfounded.
Arpad did not pull her into his arms.
Instead, he spun her away with a flick of momentum.
Then he yanked off the cravat she had dampened with her tears.
He tossed it onto the floor.
And addressed his secretary, Yulken, standing behind him.
“It’s soiled. The spare.”
As though waiting for the cue, Yulken produced an identical bluish-violet cravat.
A silent question crossed every face in the hall.
“Why does he have that prepared?”
But no one dared speak it aloud.
As Yulken stepped forward to fix the cravat, Arpad shook his head.
And his crimson gaze turned on me.
“…!”
His eyes were like a spear, like a blade.
Piercing me, tearing away all the things I tried to keep hidden.
I forced down the twitch of my shoulders.
It felt as though he had seen straight through my unease.
My lips went dry.
Then Arpad stretched out his hand toward me.
“I don’t intend to let anyone but my wife touch me.”
It wasn’t quite squirrel-level cute—but the words were enough to make every listener’s hands and feet curl in embarrassment.
He grinned brightly, speaking in a coaxing tone.
“Tie it for me, Hillia.”
I smothered the lingering unease and shock.
And donned my familiar mask.
Pretending to be bashful.
“Honestly, you…”
As I fixed his cravat, he whispered, just for me:
“No praise?”
“…Praise for what?”
Even as I replied, I couldn’t miss how soft my own voice sounded.
“For my chastity.”
“…!”
Good thing I wasn’t eating anything—I would’ve spat it out.
“Your… chastity…?”
“I turned away from another woman’s touch and came to my wife, didn’t I?”
My heart, which had sunk low in dread, seemed to rise back into place.
The anxious pounding faded slowly.
“Fine. You deserve praise.”
Well, Evangeline’s face had gone ashen too.
I couldn’t deny it was satisfying.
Arpad pressed even further.
Whispering something strange at my ear.
“Just praise, with nothing more?”
“I already praised you the way you wanted, didn’t I?”
“A reward too. That makes for a proper compliment.”
“A reward?”
What reward?
I widened my eyes, and Arpad tilted his head slightly.
Exposing his flawless cheek right before me.
Even though I saw it all the time, it always amazed me.
“Wow, not a pore in sight. Must be the dragon blood.”
As I entertained such silly thoughts, Arpad urged again.
“…No reward?”
Of course, I wasn’t stupid enough not to know what it meant when he offered his cheek.
“But this is a banquet! The duchess is here, the nobles are everywhere!”
Arpad clearly wasn’t going to move his face away without his “reward.”
And truth be told, flaunting our marital affection was politically beneficial.
Above all—Evangeline’s face, just beyond Arpad, swayed me.
It wasn’t the glare she had worn when we first entered the palace.
It was as though she’d been abandoned by the only person she had.
A face of genuine hurt I had never seen on her before—the true face of the possessor.
In that moment, I couldn’t resist.
Arpad had offered his cheek—
But what I stole were his lips.
“……!”
