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chapter 4
An unexpectedly absurd sound escaped from Haem’s mouth. Lucas, caught off guard, froze for a moment and looked at Haem with a contorted expression.
“What kind of ridiculous nonsense is that, Haem? Are you saying you’ve finally decided to become a dog?”
“My lord! It’s not nonsense! It’s completely credible!”
“Credible nonsense, huh?”
“Please, just believe me!”
“How am I supposed to work with a subordinate who’s turned into a dog? Well, I guess I could split your salary between Chloe and Diran and even promote them. They’re quiet enough, after all.”
Lucas muttered to himself seriously, rubbing his chin, and Haem jumped, shouting in panic.
“Why would I give the salary I earned to them? That’s unacceptable! No, let’s make a bet instead!”
Haem had a particular fondness for betting.
He boldly wagered on the claim he’d just made. Lucas raised an eyebrow, a little worried that Haem might someday gamble away his entire fortune.
“A bet?” Lucas repeated.
“Yes! If, when we visit the Oelin mansion, Miss Grace comes running to see you or secretly watches you, then increase my salary by 10%.”
“Hah, what a brazen little thief.”
“So what? How likely is it that the daughter of a prestigious noble family—especially Grace Oelin, known for her decorum—would actually come running just because you’re here?”
“Then why bet on such a slim chance?”
“Exactly because it’s a slim chance. I don’t bet on things that are too certain; the stakes would be too small.”
‘…I might need to get him a gambling addiction counselor,’ Lucas thought, watching Haem with serious eyes.
Then, suddenly, a small, mischievous smile curled on Lucas’s lips—a smile that looked more villainous than any villain.
“Fine. Let’s bet. But Haem,” he said.
“Yes?”
Lucas’s scarred chin moved with his smile. The scar, obtained years ago while protecting the crown prince, somehow suited his striking features, adding to his already overwhelming masculinity.
Lucas squinted his eyes and grinned.
“If you lose, your salary gets cut by 20%.”
“Whaaaat?!”
“Big stakes come with big risks. No backing out. My guard, Hound, back there will be the witness.”
He nodded toward Hound, standing like a shadow in the corner of the room. Haem’s face, full of protest, shifted instantly into determination.
“V-very well! We’ll see about this! Are you not backing out, sir? I’ll take this chance to try and raise my salary. I have a good feeling!”
A good feeling!
I have a good feeling!
I have a good feeeeling!
Lucas shook the echo of Haem’s voice from his head and turned his attention to the small woman who appeared before him, wearing a delicate white dress.
Grace Oelin. It was her.
Clink—
Lucas heard the faint sound of someone’s salary increasing in his mind.
“Uh… ah… h-how…?”
She was breathing heavily, unable to compose herself, staring at him with a flustered expression. The thin negligee rose and fell with every rough breath.
Trying not to notice her outfit, Lucas approached the frozen Grace. Her cheeks were as red as the last time he had seen her.
His long legs crossed the quiet corridor slowly. The only sound was the echo of his heavy shoes, while tiny sunlit dust motes floated around them, as if observing.
Lucas made an effort not to focus on her attire, instead recalling Haem’s words.
‘…So Haem’s nonsense wasn’t nonsense at all.’
It was almost unbelievable that the situation Haem had confidently predicted was actually happening. Lucas felt an odd sense of excitement.
Could it be that this woman actually liked him, just as Haem had claimed? Considering it, every little detail Haem mentioned seemed to match: her crimson face, trembling fingertips, and her large, beautiful violet eyes widening in surprise.
Sure, young ladies had fawned over him before—squealing like little sparrows whenever he turned his head, reciting dessert menus he didn’t care about. But those girls were nothing like Grace.
No one had ever expressed such strong feelings so quietly, so intensely. Or perhaps it was more accurate to say she couldn’t hide them. How many women would whisper his name even while fainting?
‘Does this woman really… like me?’
Lucas admired Grace with a focused gaze. Despite her delicate appearance, there was a passion in her that was undeniable. Her steadfast behavior proved it.
What intrigued him most, however, was his own growing interest in her. Her calm, composed demeanor, her subtle yet intense passion—it all kept drawing his attention.
Grace Oelin, this woman, was stirring something deep within Lucas—and doing so quickly and unmistakably.
‘Calm down,’ he told himself.
Suppressing his rising excitement, Lucas smiled gently at Grace, who hesitated before him.
“Good day, Lady Grace. It’s been about a week since that day. How are you feeling?”
Her startled reaction wasn’t just surprise this time; he could sense a hint of emotion beneath it.
“Y-You… how did you get here…?”
“The Marquis of Oelin said he had urgent matters to discuss. I happened to be passing by.”
Lucas spoke in a relaxed, soft tone. Despite his sharp features and striking blue eyes, his voice was warm, sweet, and calm like melted chocolate.
“I also wanted to check if you were alright after that day.”
Lucas moved to kiss the back of her hand as a formal greeting—but Grace, panicked, quickly pulled back.
“N-no, the greeting is unnecessary,” she murmured, trembling, wrapping her thin clothing around herself.
Now Lucas realized she was embarrassed by her appearance.
‘Oh dear.’
Sunlight streaming through the corridor windows passed through her thin white dress, revealing her delicate silhouette. Lucas quickly turned away, though he had already seen too much.
Grace’s pale face burned crimson.
‘Why did I run out without even a proper gown…’
She stepped back, wishing she could just vanish. Lucas Black—even with his sweet, polite voice—was still intimidating. Her legs shook, but she resisted running. It would be improper to flee from a guest.
‘…Though I’m not exactly properly dressed either.’
She felt like jumping up like a garden retriever and burying her nose in him.
“I’m terribly sorry. I didn’t mean to show myself like this… I should go…”
Lucas caught her as she tried to escape.
“Wait.”
His hand touched the belt of his coat. For some reason, Grace was reminded of Lucas drawing his sword in the palace garden: the cold steel, the glint of blood in the moonlight. Her fingers trembled again.
Her feet stepped back unknowingly, forgetting the stairs behind her.
Lucas reached to grab her.
“Grace, behind you…!”
But his outstretched hand caused her to step back even further.
“Ah…?”
She missed the step, teetering forward.
‘Oh no.’
Instinctively, Grace reached out her hands. The flowing dress brushed her thighs as the scenery blurred slowly past her.
Before she could close her eyes completely, she caught his face. His wide blue eyes looked at her in shock and calm at once, leaving a lasting impression on her vision.
At that instant, strong hands grasped her wrists.
“…!”
With effortless strength, he lifted her as if she weighed nothing. Compared to the last time, he raised her in an instant.
Grace found herself in his massive embrace.
The first thing she noticed was the pleasantly sweet scent of soap—so unexpectedly pure and clear.
“Are you alright, Grace?”
Next came his soft, tender voice—nothing like a killer’s; warm and comforting instead.
Slowly, she lifted her stiff head and looked into the clear blue eyes holding her—like the bright sky of a May day.
“…Grace?”
Lucas Black’s vivid blue eyes.
“…!”
Reality hit her like a splash of cold water. Her eyes widened as she instinctively pressed her hands against his shoulders, trying to push him away.
“I’m sorry! I made another foolish mistake…!”
Just then, the door to the study they were heading toward burst open unexpectedly.
“What on earth is all this commotion…!”
The sharp voice of an elderly man echoed down the quiet corridor. Grace froze completely.
Hidden behind Lucas, she couldn’t see the source, but it was undoubtedly her father, Marquis Capren Oelin.
“Duke Black…?”
Capren’s gaze fell on the figure in Lucas’s arms.
“Grace?”
