IBWMD 72

~Chapter 72~

‘What the…’

Did he confuse the doors?

That thought flashed through my head, but this wasn’t Karl’s first time in my room, so that couldn’t be it.

“……”

“……”

Once again, my ears began to burn. I felt heat rise all the way to the back of my neck.

While I fanned myself furiously, Karl turned toward the window.

He then opened the window Beth had shut earlier.

He must’ve decided to just leave through that instead of risking another door mix-up.

Creak.

“Ugh.”

Just as Karl pushed the window open and began climbing out—

The unconscious assassin twitched.

‘Right.’

‘That’s not just a bundle of junk. That’s an assassin.’

“Wait a second.”

I hurried over to Karl.

What had just happened in bed was one thing—this was another.

‘We can’t kill him. We need to find out who’s behind this.’

I stepped closer to Karl, who had one foot on the windowsill.

“Wait—huh?”

A different scent hit me.

It wasn’t the usual cool, crisp scent that reminded me of the Northern Grand Duke.

It was sweet… like flowers and sugar, or maybe pastry?

And then—

Lightning struck in my mind.

‘…Wait. Is that my perfume?’

To be precise, it was my perfume blended with the sweet smell of the cookies and treats Karl had brought me.

‘It smells like those butter cookies he gave me.’

‘Oh no. This is too much.’

The embarrassment I’d barely been suppressing surged back, stronger than ever.

Even my throat felt itchy from the heat.

I was so overwhelmed I couldn’t even speak.

Just then, Karl opened his mouth before I could.

“Are you going to interrogate him?”

Still emotionless—even after getting the door wrong—Karl asked flatly.

I nodded quickly.

“Yes. So… don’t kill him.”

“I know a good place to do that.”

He must’ve meant a good place for interrogation, but…

‘Why does that sound dirty…?’

Unintentionally, I clenched my fists.

“Also… about what happened tonight.”

“Huh?”

“…I’ll take responsibility.”

‘What?! What do you mean?!’

And just like that, Karl jumped out the window in one smooth motion.

“……”

His figure quickly disappeared—but not before I saw it.

His neck was just as red as mine.

‘Wait a minute.’

‘I could’ve sent him out the window from the start!’

There was no need to hide him under the blanket, no need to offer him my lap.

‘Why didn’t I just stall for time and tell him to take the assassin and leave?!’

‘Instead, I dragged him into bed and let him rest his head on my lap?’

That’s when it hit me again.

The sweet scent clinging to Karl—the scent of my perfume and cookies—slammed into my brain like a club.

The weight and warmth of Karl’s body on my lap…

The way his mouth casually bit my calf…

His flushed neck and the way he’d said he’d “take responsibility”…

“Aaagh!”

I clamped a hand over my mouth and stomped my feet in silent panic.

Thud!

I stomped so hard that the snow globe I’d left on the wardrobe earlier rolled out onto the floor.

“……”

He gave me that too.

My face burned even hotter.

The room still reeked of sweet butter and sugar. It was dizzying.

* * *

Crash!

A loud noise—one that had no place in the quiet Grand Duke’s estate—rang out.

“…Who goes there?!”

Jeremy, who had been dozing off after a near all-nighter, sprang up and grabbed his sword like lightning.

His head snapped awake, adrenaline coursing through his body.

‘The noise came from the window…’

He was working in the Grand Duke’s office—so someone breaking in through the window was no small deal.

‘And in the middle of heightened alert over the mutant monsters, no less…’

‘Who the hell has guts like that?!’

The moment he turned to punish the intruder—

“…Your Grace?”

Jeremy stared blankly.

Caillen was climbing in through the wide-open window.

Seeing that, Jeremy blurted without thinking:

“…Your Grace. What about teleportation magic?”

“……”

“If not that, there’s the front door. You own this place…”

Why are you coming in through the window like some common thief?

He couldn’t bring himself to say the last part aloud.

Caillen looked back at him like he had just realized that himself.

Actually, there was something else strange.

“…What’s that?”

Slung over Caillen’s shoulder was a nearly naked man—he looked like some kind of bizarre accessory.

‘Don’t tell me… he ran all the way here like that?!’

Jeremy’s imagination filled with the image of the Grand Duke dashing through nighttime Saint Portou with a half-naked man on his back.

Caillen finally straightened his posture and spoke.

“I had a lot on my mind.”

“So you ran all the way here instead of using magic?”

“Yeah.”

“And the thing on your shoulder is… a training sandbag?”

“Too ugly to be a sandbag.”

“Jeremy, I heard something fall—OH LORD!”

Clark, who had just walked in, screamed like a banshee.

Jeremy had to run over and clamp a hand over his mouth to stop him from summoning the entire estate.

“Clark. You’ll wake the whole household.”

“Your Grace! My old heart nearly gave out!”

“No worries. You’ll live to 200.”

“Still…”

Clark clutched his chest, muttering complaints—until his gaze locked onto the man draped across Caillen’s back.

His sharp, aged eyes scanned the man from head to toe.

“Your Grace wouldn’t beat someone to a pulp for no reason…”

“I didn’t beat him.”

“Pardon?”

“My wife did.”

Clark and Jeremy locked eyes.

“…The Grand Duchess?”

“What? Surprised the petite, adorable thing can fight?”

“Not really. She looked like she could handle herself.”

“If she can destroy someone with words, why not with her fists too?”

Both men responded without a shred of doubt.

After all, Jeremy had seen her effortlessly lift barrels, and Clark had seen her dominate priests.

“A guy like that? She could’ve handled him with one hand.”

“Whatever happened, clearly he deserved it.”

“……”

They concluded this without hesitation, like the woman who once seemed a mystery had now been fully accepted.

“It’s not like she’d punch someone without a good reason.”

“Still… she must be strong. We ought to invite her to the training yard sometime.”

Their words were now filled with genuine trust and warmth toward Elaine.

Caillen, watching Jeremy, tilted his head slightly—half proud, half… jealous?

“Why do you sound like you know my wife so well?”

“Well… I do see her around often.”

“And why invite her to the training yard?”

“Huh?! No—wait—it’s not like that! I meant it purely as a gesture of respect—”

As Jeremy rambled, Caillen cut him off coldly.

“It’d be a problem if the nephew starts acting like the uncle.”

“Excuse me?!”

“You did say you like small women. This sounds suspicious.”

“Hold on! It’s not just about being small! I like slender, graceful women with a twist—loyal, sharp—”

Jeremy’s impromptu speech about his ideal type was interrupted by Clark.

“Anyway, Your Grace. I assume there’s a reason the Grand Duchess beat that man and you brought him back?”

Caillen didn’t answer immediately.

“What kind of disrespect did that man dare commit?”

Clark’s expression turned serious. Jeremy, too, straightened up at the implication.

“Someone dared commit an offense against both Your Grace and the Grand Duchess in the Grand Duke’s domain?”

Jeremy’s military instincts kicked in as he imagined what kind of villain would pull such a stunt—and what bloody end awaited them.

Caillen twisted his lips wryly.

“She said he’s probably an assassin.”

“……”

“……”

Silence fell.

Jeremy was the first to react.

“You mean… that bundle?!”

“He came in at night. Armed.”

“……”

“Into Elaine’s room.”

The mood shifted like cold water being dumped on fire.

Clark and Jeremy both imagined worst-case scenarios.

‘An assassin? If something had happened to the Grand Duchess…’

‘Who would dare?! We need to interrogate him immediately—open the questioning chamber—’

Meanwhile, Caillen was lost in a slightly different thought.

Something more… visual.

‘Yep. I really do need to bring her to the estate.’

Like the way Elaine had boldly torn the assassin’s clothes… ready to snap his spine like a twig.