Chapter : 03
“The Cheek His Lips Touched”
“I was thinking of going with you to the banquet.”
After dropping her knife, Psyche instinctively looked around, gauging his reaction. The duke, too, seemed surprised by her response—it was the first time he had seen the ever-composed, impeccably polite Psyche so visibly shaken.
Quickly masking his surprise, the duke called to her in a gentle voice, as if it were nothing.
“My lady.”
“I’m sorry.”
Psyche hurriedly apologized and held her breath. She hated this tense atmosphere. As she bent to pick up the fallen knife, the duke raised a hand to stop her and bent down himself.
“Let’s bring you a new one.”
“Yes… thank you.”
Her eyes darted about. The duke looked deeply concerned, as though he were truly worried about her. The expression was so convincing that Psyche nearly let out a hollow laugh, barely managing to suppress it.
“Are you feeling unwell?”
Not knowing how to handle the strange feeling rising within her, she decided to play the role of a sick woman for the day. Her due date was approaching anyway—it was the most plausible excuse she had.
“My stomach’s just been unsettled lately.”
“I’ve been negligent. I apologize, my lady.”
A man said to cut people down without hesitation on the battlefield was always as gentle as a lamb in front of her. But even that, she knew, was all for the sake of the child.
Because she understood that, all his kindness felt like nothing more than pretense and surveillance.
There had been a time when she found that kindness rather pleasant. Come to think of it, it had been the same when he first proposed the contract marriage.
But now that she reflected on it, perhaps he had never truly given her a place to stand from the very beginning. Still, he never made mistakes in the role of a husband, and even in their purely formal marital relations meant solely for producing an heir, he had been impeccably gentlemanly.
As if every aspect of life had already been planned out in advance.
A man devoid of warmth.
This current tenderness, too, must be entirely fabricated.
Psyche smiled along with his apology and replied,
“Not at all. Your Highness has always given me the very best.”
All for the sake of the child, of course. Swallowing the rest of her words, she smiled bitterly.
She recalled hearing that when she married him, the imperial capital had been in an uproar.
The duke was the most coveted bachelor among all noble daughters, and yet some unknown count’s daughter had appeared out of nowhere and claimed the position of duchess. Naturally, high society buzzed with talk of “Psyche Alistair.”
There were those who envied her and spread malicious rumors. But one day, those rumors abruptly died down. According to whispers, the duke had retaliated against those who had spoken out of turn.
Psyche had never believed that story.
He wasn’t the kind of man who would go that far for her. Now she knew—he was only ever sincere about his heir.
Unconsciously, Psyche clenched the hem of her dress.
He must not follow her there. If he did, her plan would fall apart.
Dabbing her lips with her napkin, she spoke calmly.
“But, Your Highness, men aren’t allowed to enter that banquet.”
She waited for his answer. That brief moment felt unbearably long.
“I know. I merely intend to escort you there.”
Psyche’s eyes widened. Escort her—just that? It was excessive. She wasn’t a child.
“I can go by myself.”
“No. Your due date is approaching, and I’d be uneasy sending you alone.”
Ah. Of course. The child again.
How had she failed to realize that his concern was focused solely on the baby?
Still, there was no need to refuse outright and arouse suspicion. She would be leaving soon anyway. Psyche quickly adjusted her attitude and smiled again.
“I was only worried it might trouble you. Thank you for accompanying me.”
“You wound me, suggesting that you and the child could ever be a burden.”
Seeing expression appear on his usually cold face was unsettling in itself. Suddenly, Psyche examined her husband’s face carefully.
He was, without question, a man worthy of being called the finest in the realm—at least in appearance.
Jet-black hair darker than the night, and icy blue eyes that suited his features perfectly. He always seemed cold, yet he smiled often in front of her.
When she stared at him, the duke—Clint—spoke again.
“With the birth approaching, I believe we must strengthen security around you.”
“What?”
Today, the duke was particularly strange. Psyche knew he valued the child, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that he was clinging to her more than usual.
Surely it was just her imagination…
As he moved his knife, he added,
“I intend to assign you a bodyguard.”
At those words, Psyche clenched her knife tightly.
A bodyguard? How much more did he intend to watch her?
She hated the idea. This was something she had to stop, no matter what. If a guard followed her constantly—even when Clint was absent—escape would be impossible, and she wouldn’t even be free within the estate.
And his tone made it clear this wasn’t a suggestion. It was already decided.
That was how he always was.
As if his wife’s wishes didn’t matter in the slightest.
And then he would smile, pretending to be kind and considerate, making it impossible for her to refuse without seeming ungrateful. Come to think of it, she had never once told him she didn’t like something.
She had always been the obedient, compliant wife. Perhaps that was why he believed he could mold her however he pleased.
Psyche bit down hard on her lip before releasing it. Then she lifted her gaze to meet his and spoke slowly.
“I don’t want a bodyguard, Your Highness.”
She saw Clint’s face slowly, subtly tighten.
Seeing such an expression on the duke felt strangely unreal.
A brief, delicate silence followed.
The duke’s faint displeasure made Psyche uneasy. She hurriedly added, trying to defuse the situation.
“People will say I’m a woman who can’t do anything without Your Highness.”
Her face drooped slightly. The duke seemed taken aback by her response.
She had never clearly expressed her own will before. She had always smiled and agreed with whatever he wanted.
Even when choosing her wedding dress, it had been the same. Since he paid for everything and took responsibility for her home and livelihood, she saw no reason to oppose his wishes.
Besides, the duke never did anything halfheartedly—everything he prepared was the best and most expensive available. There had been no need for her opinion at all.
That was, of course, before she knew he intended to kill her.
“Who would say such a thing?”
And perhaps, very quietly, he added something like, Whoever it is must have a death wish.
Startled, Psyche asked,
“Pardon?”
The duke’s face hardened sharply. She hadn’t invented those words—malicious gossip did circulate, claiming she merely sat idly while the duke waited on her.
They spoke out of ignorance. In truth, it was always Psyche who had no choice but to obey him.
But when asked to name who had said it, she naturally had no answer.
“No one in particular… it’s just—”
“Then it doesn’t matter.”
“……”
The duke’s stance was firm.
“This is for your safety. Think of it positively. If having a man nearby makes you uncomfortable, I’ve already assigned a female knight.”
“You already… have?”
“Yes.”
At that, Psyche let out a large sigh without thinking.
It was loud enough for the duke to notice. He stared at her, eyes wide. She had been acting nothing like her usual self today.
“My lord.”
“Yes?”
The duke, apparently having lost his appetite, pushed his plate away and wiped his mouth with his napkin.
“I’ll be fine without a bodyguard.”
“……”
Desperate, Psyche looked at him imploringly. No matter what, she had to prevent a guard from being assigned to her.
“Just this once… can’t you do what I want?”
He looked her over, then set his napkin down with a sharp motion.
Though his expression didn’t change, even Psyche could feel the shift in the air around him.
He was deeply displeased.
Because she wasn’t moving the way he wanted.
“No. I don’t understand why my wife—who never seems to dislike anything—would be so stubborn about this.”
“Stubborn?”
Psyche was incredulous. His tone, as if addressing a child, grated on her nerves.
But he gave her no chance to argue.
“Everything I do is for your sake.”
With a dismissive wave of his hand, the duke made it clear he had no intention of continuing the argument. He pressed his lips together and lowered his gaze, his face filled with what looked like genuine concern.
It was so convincingly tender that Psyche had to look away.
How could someone act so flawlessly?
It was always like this.
He had never once done something simply because she wanted it. He only ever fit her into his own framework.
“Oh. It’s already this late. I’ll take my leave. Please enjoy your meal.”
Having reached the conclusion he wanted, he stood up.
Before leaving, he didn’t forget to place a gentle kiss on Psyche’s cheek.
Left sitting there alone, Psyche scrubbed at the spot where his lips had touched, rubbing her cheek over and over.
End Of Chapter : 03
