IBWMD 43

~Chapter 43~

In truth, Jeremy was secretly shocked.

‘He really gave her a dragon’s weapon…’

Dragon’s weapons were among the finest magical tools, changing shape to match their user. They were weapons connected to the Duke’s magic, passed down from the blood of dragons—typically given to the Duke’s consort for self-defense.

‘And not even all consorts receive them.’

You couldn’t hand over such tools to consorts forced to live in the duke’s estate against their will—ones who wanted to flee in tears.

Giving such a weapon to a consort before even signing the marriage papers? Kylian was likely the first to ever do so.

‘A weapon like that… without even holding a wedding…’

“Butler, go get some rest.”

Jeremy recalled watching Clark being carted away, clutching his neck, as he clicked his tongue.

In any case, for the sake of peace in the duke’s office, Jeremy had to get things under control.

“Unless Clark is obsessing over something again, is there more paperwork?”

“……”

“If not that, then monsters? Is there unrest in the nearby territories?”

If none of that, then surely—

‘Could this be about the Duchess?’

Lately, Kylian had been unusually affectionate with her. No amount of worry from Jeremy or others could change that.

And just as Jeremy reached that conclusion, Kylian strode in, icy eyes flashing.

“What have you been doing, not teaching your uncle any manners?”

“…Isn’t that usually the other way around?”

Why did this feel like a parent scolding a child for poor upbringing?

Kylian ignored Jeremy’s retort and continued.

“I’m asking what you’ve been doing all this time, not even teaching your uncle basic manners.”

“Your Grace?”

His voice, calm but with overwhelming conviction, made Jeremy feel inexplicably guilty—like he’d raised his uncle wrong, even though he didn’t raise him at all.

“Your Grace, could you at least tell me what’s going on…?”

“Your uncle is trying to seduce my wife.”

“Excuse me? Uncle Harold?!”

It felt like hearing the wall of Saint Portou had crumbled under a revived dragon’s breath.

Jeremy’s head spun as if he’d been struck by a hammer.

‘So… there was some contact between Uncle and the Duchess.’

Jeremy had heard vaguely through his uncle that the Duchess had helped with his skewer business.

He didn’t know exactly what kind of help—but it sounded like some kind of business partnership, right?

“He’s old enough to know better, yet he’s out there linking arms with a much younger lady!”

“Huh? The two of them?”

The image that popped into Jeremy’s head wasn’t of two people sweetly close—it was more like two middle-aged mercenaries celebrating at a tavern.

‘Did they have a drink together while working?’

He pictured the Duchess and his uncle, tipsy, arms around each other, singing at the top of their lungs.

It… oddly suited her.

“Wait, Your Grace… So you’re saying the Duchess…”

What, she’s having day drinks with my uncle?

Before Jeremy could voice the question, Kylian furrowed his brow, as if something more serious was at stake.

“They even went into a teahouse together, just the two of them.”

“The teahouse in the town square?”

“Yes.”

‘But… that place is an herbal tea shop.’

It wasn’t one of those romantic cafes on the outskirts—it was more like the Saint Portou senior center.

Still, the atmosphere was serious.

And the real issue was revealed:

“They asked for a private room, dismissed the staff, and stayed inside alone.”

“……”

“A single man… with a married woman…”

“I’ll go educate him immediately.”

Jeremy shot up.

It wasn’t the teahouse that was the problem—but being alone behind closed doors was certainly problematic.

Not because they’d actually do anything… but because the Duke clearly took it that way.

Cold sweat ran down Jeremy’s back.

At least Kylian hadn’t stormed over himself to drag them apart. Sending Jeremy to do it seemed to be the last thread of his patience.

And so, Jeremy had rushed to the teahouse and separated his uncle from the Duchess just moments ago.

A sigh escaped his lips.

‘Honestly, if he’d just say he was the Duke…’

Though Jeremy had a feeling why Kylian kept hiding it.

Half of it was him enjoying teasing the Duchess… and the other half?

‘Maybe he just missed the right timing to tell her?’

Even Jeremy thought, if Kylian admitted now that he was the Duke, it would just make him look bad.

‘You lied and messed with her this whole time?’ Yeah… she wouldn’t take that well.

Not unless she started to like the Duke first.

But that would mean seeing his face—his real face—as the Duke…

‘Who knows how this’ll end.’

Jeremy’s thoughts whiplashed every three seconds.

Still, he was worried. What if His Grace got rejected? Even though they were technically already married.

What if they ended up sleeping in separate rooms…?

“Mm.”

Harold, watching his suddenly somber nephew, scratched the back of his head.

But since they were together anyway, he figured they might as well enjoy some quality time.

“Jeremy, while you’re here—help me test this new recipe.”

“Huh? I’m in the middle of work…”

“I made a level-five chili sauce to remove the monster stench.”

“……”

“Oh, and something else too—meat coated in a thin sugar glaze!”

Why was his uncle always inventing such weird recipes?

At this point, Jeremy felt like a living test subject, being punished for failing to raise his uncle right.

He sighed and followed Kylian’s retreating back.

‘Please… just let today end peacefully.’

Of course, prayers like that rarely come true.

“Are you sure we’re going the right way?”

That question came after I’d been walking with Karl through the outskirts of Saint Portou’s forest for about two hours.

“The path doesn’t seem to follow any clear pattern…”

“It’s not like I’m walking randomly.”

“……”

“Unlike someone, I don’t plan on getting lost.”

“Hey! I never actually got lost.”

“You were stuck on a rooftop. That’s not ‘not lost.’”

“You make it sound like I’m a kitten stuck in a tree.”

We bickered, but honestly—I was in a good mood.

The bear pelt swinging from Karl’s shoulder looked even better than I remembered. It suited him surprisingly well.

Well… with a face like that, he could pull off anything.

‘It’s been really well processed.’

When I gave it to him, it still had a few scars here and there.

Now, you couldn’t even see a scratch. The surface looked silky smooth—almost like it came from a noble’s leather shop.

No way a commoner could afford that. Maybe he knew a skilled hunter?

As I thought that, Karl naturally reached for my hand, helping me across a frozen ditch.

“This way.”

I didn’t resist his hand.

I probably could’ve crossed just fine on my own…

‘But maybe it’s because it’s been a while since we met again.’

Even little things like this felt warm and familiar.

‘Just friendliness. That’s all this is.’

That’s what I told myself as I held his hand.

“Are you sure this is where the dragon relic is?”

Karl gave a slow nod.

“If you can call it a relic.”

“If you can?”

Isn’t it either a relic or it’s not? What kind of vague answer was that?

“So… it’s related, right?”

“Yes.”

I thought back to what I asked Karl earlier:

‘Hey, about that rumored dragon relic… is there any truth to it?’

Karl had looked down at me with calm eyes, as if trying to gauge my intent.

‘Are you interested in dragons?’

‘Well… yeah, I guess.’

‘Why are you suddenly interested?’

‘Because…’

I’d told him before—how dragon magic once purified land tainted by monster poison.

‘So maybe it can purify blue titanium poison too?’

That was my hope.

If it’s truly a relic left by a dragon, it must contain its magic. That would be the key.

But instead of confirming that, Karl had asked something unexpected.

‘…Do you want to know about the Duke… before he returns?’