Awkward Tryst (2)
Nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen.
Duha counted the empty glasses of alcohol on the table.
This is why sweet drinks are dangerous. You keep drinking without realizing how much you’ve had.
“Should we stop drinking?”
“…Are you giving up?”
“No. I could drink more, but both you and I have work tomorrow.”
They weren’t idle loafers but a Duke and Duchess.
There was a mountain of official duties waiting for them to handle.
“And it feels like we’ve stayed too long.”
The innkeeper, who had been waiting for them to leave, seemed to have gone to bed, as there was no sign of him anymore.
Thanks to that, the inside of the tavern had long since become a space for just Duha and Leonhardt.
“You know.”
Perhaps it was the fact that they were alone in an unfamiliar place, away from the castle.
Duha brought up something she wouldn’t normally say.
“I have a relative I don’t get along with, just like your uncle.”
At her words, Leonhardt, who had been sitting with his arms crossed like a statue, shifted his gaze.
“His name is Nihir, my eldest brother, and we don’t get along at all. You could say we’re practically dying to kill each other.”
Back when they were competing for the position of chieftain, their relationship had been truly brutal.
Even now, Nihir might regret not having killed Duha when he had the chance.
“My brother hates me, and I, in turn, hate my brother who hates me.”
The two of them knew better than anyone how much they despised each other.
The fight, which seemed like it would never end until one of them disappeared, eventually came to an end.
Because Duha chose to leave Bashar on her own.
“Sometimes, you have to get along with people you hate, even if it’s just for the sake of a greater benefit.”
For Duha to achieve her own goals, it would have been right for her to stay in Bashar and fight Nihir to the end.
But they couldn’t leave the position of heir to the chieftain vacant until their fight was resolved.
The heir represented the strength of the tribe.
The Wind Tribe, which was weaker than the other tribes, needed to establish a chieftain’s successor as soon as possible to solidify its foundation.
The peace of the tribe or her own honor.
If Duha had to choose between the two, she believed she should always choose the former.
“In the end, everything worked out. Our tribe found stability, and on top of that, the Kingdom of Bashar gained a powerful alliance through this marriage.”
Reconciliation wasn’t necessary.
But for the greater good, one had to be willing to bow even to an enemy.
At least, that’s what Duha believed.
“I wasn’t trying to lecture you earlier. But if you stop clashing with Lord Nate, you could gain so much…”
“No.”
Leonhardt was staring at her blankly with vacant eyes.
Somewhere in those hollow eyes, hatred, anger, and ‘regret’ lingered.
“I’m not like you.”
“You’re not different.”
“No, I am. I don’t want to gain anything.”
Duha could feel his voice growing fainter, like a candle about to go out.
“…I just don’t want to lose anything more because of them.”
Thud.
Leonhardt’s head fell onto the table with a dull sound.
At that moment, Duha’s heart sank in unison with the sound.
*** *** *** *** ***
“…Hey?”
A startled Duha carefully called out to Leonhardt, but there was no response.
He seemed to have no intention of lifting his head from where it was planted on the table.
“Really, how much did you drink to get this drunk?”
If you can’t handle alcohol, you should say so.
Duha stood up and walked around to his side.
“Hey. Your Grace. Try to pull yourself together.”
Leonhardt didn’t respond to her calls or her shaking.
Slap!
“I said wake up!”
Leonhardt still didn’t budge.
Despite her effort of slapping his cheek.
“This is driving me crazy. What am I supposed to do?”
Muttering to herself in Basharian, Duha quickly looked around.
The innkeeper was still nowhere to be seen, and there were no other customers.
There wasn’t a single person who could help her.
Which meant she would have to carry this enormous man to the carriage by herself.
“I guess there’s no choice.”
Duha sighed and slipped her arm under Leonhardt’s armpit.
“Ugh!”
She was stronger than the average woman. That was natural, given her training as a warrior in Bashar.
But even so, trying to move the Duke alone was straining her strength.
Duha draped one of the Duke’s arms over her shoulder and wrapped her arm around his waist as she struggled to take steps.
As a result, rather than a cicada on an old tree, it looked more like a cicada trying to carry an old tree—quite an odd sight.
“Ah, right. The bill.”
Duha, who was about to drag her husband out, stopped in her tracks.
Even if this was an establishment in the Duke’s territory, they couldn’t dine and dash.
Duha began searching her husband’s clothes with her one free arm.
‘Where did he put the money?’
Weighed down by Leonhardt’s body weight, her searching hands gradually moved lower.
‘Maybe it’s in his pants pocket?’
Duha slipped her hand into the pants pocket near his waist.
‘Is this it?’
Something heavy filled her hand.
But the shape and texture felt too unfamiliar to be money.
“…Oh.”
At that moment, a sharp realization flashed through her mind.
Duha briefly looked down, then quietly withdrew her hand from the Duke’s pocket.
“I suppose jewelry will do.”
She took off one of her earrings and placed it on the table.
Duha’s steps were hurried as she supported the Duke and headed out of the establishment.
Under her pulled-down hood, her face was as red as a ripe apple.
*** *** *** *** ***
“Are you awake?”
Contrary to Duha’s worries that Leonhardt might not wake up even after they arrived at the castle, he regained consciousness in the carriage.
Though his eyes still looked somewhat dazed.
“That’s a relief. You woke up just before we arrived. Can you move?”
“…Yeah, I can move.”
His childlike tone made Duha furrow her brow.
Was he really okay? Could alcohol make someone’s brain act this strange?
She tapped her husband’s shoulder with a concerned expression.
“Then get out quickly.”
“Okay.”
Leonhardt gave a small nod and obediently stepped out of the carriage.
Just as Duha was about to follow him out, a large hand suddenly appeared in front of her.
Duha alternated her gaze between the hand, which was extended as if to escort her, and Leonhardt’s face.
“…What’s this all of a sudden?”
There was no response, but Leonhardt didn’t withdraw his hand. He simply stared at her intently.
His slightly unfocused eyes and faintly flushed cheeks somehow carried a strange sense of appeal.
Hesitating for a moment, Duha eventually had no choice but to take his hand and step out of the carriage.
Perhaps because it was late at night with the moon high in the sky, not even a single ant could be seen in the castle.
Duha, with the duke trailing behind her like a lost puppy, finally managed to lead him to their bedroom.
Click.
Only when the door closed did she let out a sigh of relief.
She had been worried that the Duke might pass out and fall asleep again midway, but thankfully, they made it to the bedroom without incident.
“Phew.”
Duha began removing the jewelry she was wearing, as if shedding shackles.
As she reached behind her back to undo her dress, she noticed something strange and slowly turned around.
“…What are you doing, just standing there?”
Leonhardt was standing in the middle of the room, staring at her.
Though his gaze seemed somewhat dazed, his eyes were fixed squarely on Duha.
She slowly lowered her hands, which had been reaching to remove her dress.
“Why don’t you change first, then?”
“……”
This time, the Duke didn’t respond to her words either.
Why was that?
After a moment of thought, Duha assumed it was because there were no attendants to help him change and began walking toward the door.
“Wait here. I’ll call the attendants—”
“No.”
“But you need to change your clothes—”
“Do it for me.”
He suddenly extended both arms toward her.
As if asking her to undress him herself.
“What did you just say? No, I mean…”
Before Duha could respond in her flustered state, he spoke again.
“Don’t want to?”
The Duke looked at her with a strangely pitiful expression.
Despite his large frame, his actions were no different from that of a child.
Duha, unsure how to handle the situation, simply stared at him in a daze.
Meanwhile, the Duke’s slightly drunken, softened gaze even carried a hint of moisture.
Realizing just how dangerous excessive beauty could be, Duha finally reached out her hand toward him.
“…Give me your arm.”
In the end, she had to help the Duke change under the moonlight.
Though Duha had grown up bold and unrestrained, she was still a princess.
This was her first time helping someone change clothes, so it felt awkward.
After removing the outer coat Leonhardt was wearing, Duha began unbuttoning his shirt one by one.
She thought she felt nothing for him, but now that she was in this situation, her hands trembled for no reason.
On top of that, she could feel an unbearably intense gaze from above her head.
Deliberately lowering her head, she spoke.
“Don’t stare.”
“…No.”
“You were so quick to say ‘okay, okay’ earlier.”
Muttering complaints to herself, she hurriedly finished unbuttoning his shirt.
Though his well-sculpted, statue-like body was revealed, Duha tried her best to avert her gaze.
“All done. Get into bed now.”
“…I want to take this off too.”
“What else is there to take off…”
Duha’s eyes widened like saucers as she saw the Duke place his hands on the waistband of his pants.
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