Chapter 20
The Closer I Get
I sighed once while looking at Eyzar’s face, and sighed again as my gaze fell on his jaw.
“What am I going to do… there’s a scratch on that face…”
During sparring, I hadn’t noticed, since I was just rushing in to graze him with my wooden sword. But up close, I could see the skin on his jaw was scraped. A tiny drop of blood had even formed.
I only realized it when calling the house physician to tend to my wrist; he applied medicine to the wound and stopped the bleeding.
“Madam, does your wrist still hurt? I think you should see Dietvan again.”
But that foolish man was worrying about my wrist—something that would have healed on its own if I rested—rather than himself.
When you train in swordsmanship, soreness and a tingly wrist come naturally.
As a knight, he must have known that. Yet Eyzar fussed over my condition as if I were a seriously injured patient, not realizing I was more upset about the scratch on that handsome face of his.
“I said I’m fine. The sighs were because I’m upset that your jaw got hurt—because of me.”
“This is a very minor wound. The sword didn’t slash across your back, nor did it pierce the flesh deeply.”
He said something terrifyingly matter-of-fact with his usual gentle expression.
“I always say this, Eyzar—you must take care of both your body and your heart.”
He said that, but I wondered how shocked everyone would have been if he were ever seriously injured.
Once, I had carelessly practiced swordsmanship with a real sword and nicked myself. The sting and sight of spreading blood had so shocked the nurse that she cried bitterly, scolding me the whole time.
“Being a knight doesn’t mean you should constantly get hurt. You’ve forgotten that—we are married now.”
Even if it was a contractual marriage, he had asked me to behave as his wife.
“It’s only natural for a wife to worry when her husband is hurt, especially if the injury is caused by her! And why, of all places, the face…”
I gently touched his jaw, frowning.
A handsome face must not be scarred.
It was a national loss, a loss to humanity. Of course, the biggest loss was mine—seeing that perfect face scratched.
“Do you like my face, madam?”
“Is there anyone who dislikes handsome men?”
Eyzar asked an odd question.
“But tastes differ, don’t they?”
True enough. Everyone has different preferences. Thinking about it, I realized I had only ever thought Eyzar was handsome—I hadn’t really studied his face closely.
I drew his face closer to mine. Perfect timing—the sunlight fell just right on him.
“Stay still, Eyzar…”
Caught up in my pace, he lowered his head and helped me examine his face.
I studied him carefully. Shiny, flowing blond hair catching the light; straight, defined eyebrows; a smooth forehead; and the delicate area around his eyes.
My fingers moved almost involuntarily, as if unable to resist touching a sculpture made by a god.
I slowly, deliberately traced the area around his eyes.
Ah. Seeing him this close, I realized one more thing.
“Eyzar, your eyelashes are so full and long. How lovely.”
His nose was well-defined and straight; his jawline looked soft but strong—the perfect manly line.
But again, my gaze returned to those clear, transparent eyes.
Eyes that stared at me so purely, as if unaware of the world’s filth. Sometimes, they felt like gazing at an endless ocean, leaving me entranced—those deep blue eyes.
“Blue eyes that are impossible to look away from…”
My fingertips slid down his cheek. His skin was flawless, not a single visible pore—a beauty that even made me envious.
Ah. On top of handsome men, there is Eyzar.
“You are exactly to my taste.”
As my fingertips brushed his Adam’s apple, it moved up and down, as if aflame under my touch.
When I withdrew my hand, he stared quietly at me. His breath was so close I could feel it.
Realizing how near I was, I stepped back.
“So… I meant that I like your face, Eyzar.”
“I touched his face without thinking.”
Looking back, I had no idea why I did it. But seeing the man in front of me, I couldn’t resist the sudden impulse.
Eyzar remained silent. He stepped closer the moment I stepped back and gently took my hand—the same hand that had touched his face.
“Madam, you should be a little more careful.”
“Excuse me?”
“…For your sake and mine.”
His calm gaze fell on my fingertips, his fingers lightly brushing over them.
“You dislike men who touch your body impulsively, do you not?”
His eyes slowly lifted, stopping at one spot.
Was it a mistake? Or was he truly looking at my lips? The thought sent a warm flush creeping from my toes up through my body.
I covered my lips with my free hand. His gaze, as if disappointed, lingered on my eyes.
“Even looking into your eyes feels like being pulled in. They are extraordinarily beautiful. Truly lovely.”
My face flared crimson.
The carriage jolted once.
“I wonder when we’ll reach the Stemun Marquess’ house.”
I was on my way to accept the Marquess Stemun’s wife’s invitation for afternoon tea. My previously sore wrist had fully recovered after a few days of rest.
The scratch on Eyzar’s jaw, which I had worried would scar, had also healed perfectly.
The only problem was that the memory of that moment still clung to my mind—my hands tracing his face, his fingers brushing mine as he spoke.
“What did he really mean then?”
He had said to be careful—likely warning me not to touch his face impulsively. That it was my fault I had touched him was obvious.
But why, instead of scolding me, had he said it was for both our sakes?
“Was that gaze on my lips… not a mistake?”
Lost in thought, I laughed aloud without realizing it.
“Pfft… haha. No way. Why would I think something so ridiculous?”
If it had been any other man, maybe, but Eyzar… recalling how his passionate love had once torn me apart as a reader, I knew no other woman could dwell in his heart.
“Besides, I look nothing like Bertisha.”
Bertisha had silvery hair, violet eyes, and the calm, gentle demeanor of a noblewoman.
Normally, men with an unforgettable first love don’t like women who resemble that first love.
But the woman he saw in me…
On our wedding night, I had startled him by pulling a sword off the wall to catch a bug. I groped him when he drunkenly woke. And during sparring, I had even scratched his jaw.
Naturally, no man would find such a woman attractive.
“Even if he thinks I’m a troublemaker, how could he feel romantic interest?”
But if he truly felt something for me, it wasn’t because I resembled Bertisha.
I bit my lips unconsciously, tapping the carriage seat nervously as I spoke.
“Then… it means he likes me for who I am.”
After saying it, my ears felt hot and my chest fluttered. Thankfully, Eyzar wasn’t beside me. I scolded myself for his appearance.
“…Anyway, too handsome for no reason.”
I had no immunity to handsome men. Eyzar was dangerous. After days of acting normal, recalling that moment still made me embarrassingly flustered.
If he were beside me, it would be worse.
Squeak. Just then, the carriage arrived at the Stemun Marquess’ house. The coachman opened the door, and I slowly stepped out. The breeze cooled my heated face.
Immediately, an elderly man, likely the butler, came forward.
“Please come this way.”
I liked his precise, clean movements. Peeking inside, I observed the house.
The rumors spread by the spiteful Marquess Ekert’s wife were clearly false.
“Is this the mansion of someone indulging in luxury?”
The Stemun Marquess’ house was tidy and orderly, with a classic elegance—no lavish jewels, yet impeccably kept.
It was good I had come here first, even though I had RSVP’d to the Marquess Stemun’s wife’s tea.
Inside the tea room sat a smaller, younger-looking woman than I had expected. Her hair was neatly pinned up, and her lively brown eyes reflected her emotions vividly.
Sarsina Stemun. The genius painter briefly mentioned in the story.
She was Cortina, the artist celebrated among nobles, rumored to have hands touched by the gods. Though she didn’t often appear publicly, her connections to the imperial family were extraordinary.
She was close not only to the current emperor Camileo but also the former emperor. Her portraits were famed, and nobles competed to buy her work.
“Luckily, the narrative told from the male lead Camileo’s perspective revealed her identity as Sarsina Stemun.”
The heroine Bertisha never discovered it. The former emperor had kept the secret, revealing it subtly only to his son.
Thus, I had no reason to refuse this invitation. A noblewoman under imperial protection like Marquess Stemun’s wife could not be undermined, and trying to attack her would only weaken Marquess Ekert’s wife. Even though Ekert’s wife was influential in high society, one mistake could ruin her reputation.
While I was thinking this, the lady sipping tea noticed me and smiled brightly.
“Duchess, you truly came!”
“Thank you for inviting me, madam.”
Now it was essential to build a connection. Having high-ranking contacts never hurt.
