GDTN 03

Selene walked, managing the wide dress that felt uncomfortably heavy, the thick outer coat, an excessively long cloak, and shoes that were equally inconvenient.

Still, she was certain that once a little more time passed and she became accustomed to it, she would be able to walk properly.

She reached the door and looked up at him. If he moved away again, she would simply follow behind him as best she could.

Selene found it unexpected that there was no irritation on his face as he observed her again so closely.

She had assumed he might be annoyed, since even a few steps had taken far too much time. His expression remained cold and impassive as ever, but there was no visible sign of displeasure.

Behind him, who made no move to leave, was an open doorway. She carefully glanced down the corridor. It looked like something she might have seen in a foreign drama set in a castle.

The corridor windows were deeply recessed, allowing her to imagine just how thick the castle walls must be.

From floor to ceiling, everything was made of cold gray stone, a material that suited the title of “war beast” and “Northern Duke.”

When Baras slightly shifted his body to clear her view, she thought they might finally be leaving and adjusted her clothing again, gathering it in her hands—more fabric than she had expected, held higher than she intended.

In front of Selene, Baras extended his arm.

No. Could this even be called “extending”? His arm was simply there. He said nothing, and perhaps he was just folding his arms and the elbow happened to be in her line of sight.

Selene decided to wait quietly until he began walking.

If she did something unnecessary and ended up unable to even step outside the room, she would regret it endlessly.

Baras assumed that when he offered his arm, Selene would take it. Her steps looked unstable, and she seemed to be struggling.

According to his former adjutant Zart, when a woman was wearing uncomfortable clothing or high heels, she would usually take a man’s arm if he offered escort—unless she was married to someone else, engaged, or hated the man intensely.

Selene and he were married. Not exactly close, but they were at least in the process of getting to know each other.

From the occasional way she looked at him, she did not seem to hate him to that extreme.

Or perhaps his judgment was wrong.

Baras’s eyes cooled further. He looked down at the top of Selene’s head, which he had to lower his gaze considerably just to see, and wondered what this situation was.

A woman he had brought here to bear his child. No—he had bought her.

Since when had he ever regarded people as people? On the battlefield, people were nothing more than numbers, tools—except for those he had brought here to this domain after retirement: the “Shield of Belias.”

To protect their lives, he had willingly become a demon.

To Baras, there had never been friend or foe—only means, objects, quantities.

In that same extension of not seeing people as people, he had bought this woman. The purpose was clear: to have a child carrying his blood.

Baras hesitated briefly.

“Should I stop this foolishness and just lock her up?”

Selene had no idea what he was thinking.

All she could feel was anticipation at the unknown passage before her—maybe she would finally see the world outside the room.

It won’t be anything like a film set.

When she had been confined to the room, reality had felt distant. But seeing the gray stone corridor made it feel truly like another world.

Why wasn’t he moving?

She looked up at his face. She had to tilt her head back quite far just to find his eyes.

Their eyes met.

Selene flinched. He had already been cold, but compared to now, earlier almost felt like a spring breeze.

Unable to understand why his mood had suddenly worsened, she began to fear that their walk might be canceled—or worse, that she might be imprisoned from today onward.

Overwhelmed, she finally spoke, trying to keep her voice from trembling too much.

“Should we go back inside?”

To Baras, her subdued voice sounded less like hesitation and more like a complaint that he wasn’t moving.

Though she had spoken softly, he interpreted it as boldness.

In any case, he decided. Since she had said to go, they might as well go once.

So this was it—she refused his escort because she supposedly disliked him, yet still wanted this walk that badly?

Baras decided to grant her wish, like a man watching cattle that would soon become meat.

Tomorrow, she would no longer be allowed to set foot on grass.

He walked ahead.

Behind him, the sound of fabric rustled softly. After a few steps, her uneven footsteps grew more distant.

Baras cleared his throat and turned around.

Their eyes met again—just as she stumbled forward, her body tipping.

A thought flashed through his mind: the cold stone floor, the loosened dress, and the pale skin glimpsed beneath it.

Before he could even think, he had moved.

He stepped forward, dropped to one knee, and caught her as if he were a cushion.

Her arms passed by his ears, and her hair brushed his face. A sweet scent hit him sharply.

Too sweet.

Even though her full weight was in his arms, she was astonishingly light. Almost like a rabbit.

Baras barely kept his composure and stood. He lifted her by the waist and set her down gently.

She still had her eyes tightly shut.

He tilted his head, looking at his own hands.

Even through thick clothing, she had felt like she was only a handful.

She felt like a fragile glass doll. No—too sweet to be glass. A sugar doll.

While thinking she should be fed well before winter so she wouldn’t freeze, he stopped himself.

Hadn’t he just thought about locking her up tonight?

He imagined reinforcing the room, thickening tapestries, lighting the fireplace, sealing the windows so tightly that no cold air could enter.

Strangely, concern and possession coexisted in him.

He looked back at Selene.

She still had her eyes closed tightly.

…She looked like someone who was extremely sensitive to cold.

Selene tried to calm her racing heart, but it was no use.

If she had fallen onto the stone floor, she would have simply stood up and followed behind him again.

But instead, he had rushed in, caught her firmly, and she had ended up clinging to him.

She had thought he was like a towering tree—but maybe he really was.

When her face had been pressed against his neck, she had smelled something like wood.

She could not even remember how she had managed to stand again.

The sensation of his firm, steady presence lingered in her mind.

When she finally opened her eyes and lifted her head, she felt his familiar observing gaze.

“Thank you.”

Baras gave no response and simply turned away again.

Selene steadied herself and prepared to walk again.

But just as she thought she had adapted, he abruptly returned, standing beside her.

His arm appeared in front of her again.

Was this some kind of sign of anger?

Before she could interpret it, Baras spoke sharply:

“If walking is that difficult for you, it would be better to hold on—even if it’s not to your liking.”