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Chapter 1
Usually, the best course of action is to avoid a place where you’re destined to die by any means necessary.
But, well.
“Sit there.”
…Looks like I’m already doomed.
The blue eyes gazing steadily at me shimmered like rubies.
“H–Here?”
When I pointed at the floor, Grand Duke Kristan frowned slightly, let out a light sigh, and gestured to the side.
“The chair next to the bed.”
I carefully lowered myself onto the clearly indicated spot. In my four years of working life, this was the first time I’d ever sat in such a soft, high-quality chair.
It firmly supported my hips and waist while having just the right amount of cushioning, and the silky texture wrapped around my body gently and securely.
And the height was perfect for resting my neck.
Was this chair made just for me?
There was even a footrest beneath the chair. When I quietly placed my feet on it, it felt like heaven.
Kristan glanced at me briefly before lying back down on the bed. In the moonlight streaming in, I could clearly see his pale face slowly turning bluish.
According to <A Flower Path Begins with a Single Step>, this was one of the side effects of magical power.
Dragon magic flowed through Kristan’s body—power so immense that a human body couldn’t withstand it. Little by little, it was eating away at his life.
To survive, that power had to be released outside the body. But he couldn’t do it on his own.
That’s where an intermediary was needed.
That intermediary… was me.
The bedroom maid (?), Roella.
More precisely, people like me were called “Compatibles”—those with a constitution capable of releasing dragon magic.
They were selected through compatibility tests. And according to the setting, I had been forced into the test by my father and sold here afterward.
With no backing, from a declining viscount family, and owning nothing—perfectly disposable.
Used until drained dry, then tossed aside.
And killed.
I knew it. Drawing attention was never a good idea. But I’d already caught the male lead’s eye like this.
From the perspective of a fourth-year office worker, the secret to long-term survival was simple:
Do your job quietly, don’t do anything unnecessary, and collect your paycheck.
Easy enough.
Just breathe and do what you’re told.
I could see the long, straight fingers reaching toward me also turning blue.
Kristan was dying in real time. The fact that he could maintain such composure was astonishing.
The original novel said his patience and endurance were extraordinary. He could endure pain that felt like his body was being torn apart.
It was painful just to watch—yet his expression remained calm.
“U-Um… what should I do?”
I asked carefully.
Kristan parted his bluish lips.
“…Just hold my hand. All night long. Until I wake up.”
“Ah, yes!”
Thankfully, it was exactly as described in the original. I’d been half-expecting some kind of possession-bonus nonsense—like suddenly having to hug him to sleep or something.
Relieved, I nodded and grabbed his hand.
Firm and smooth—wow, it’s big. Long fingers, too. His palms were hardened from sword training, but well-maintained, not rough.
Even his hands looked like a male lead’s.
I glanced at him nervously. He lay flat on his back with his eyes closed—almost solemn.
…He doesn’t see me as a woman at all, does he?
I just have to sit here and hold his hand while he sleeps.
This might actually be a cushy job?
This isn’t a man’s hand. It’s a lump of protein. A doll.
I hypnotized myself. The tension eased a little.
Bedroom maid?
This is nothing!
* * *
Kristan quietly watched the woman sleeping with her face pressed against his hand.
‘Her name was Roella, wasn’t it?’
Among countless applicants who responded to the grand ducal household’s recruitment notice, she was the only one who passed the compatibility test.
The only compatible person—regardless of age or gender.
Once she passed, her father sold her for a hefty sum.
He’d apparently haggled over his daughter’s price like a pimp. They said the way he glared, trying to squeeze out even one more coin, was quite the spectacle.
Judging by how deeply the aide frowned while recounting it, the man must’ve been irredeemably vile.
In contrast, Roella had eyes so clear it was hard to believe she was raised by such a man.
Though now, those eyes were hidden behind tightly shut lids.
The neat green dress she’d worn earlier was now thoroughly wrinkled.
“Mmm…”
Roella smacked her lips and rubbed her face against Kristan’s palm. Just like yesterday—she’d started fidgeting with his hand the moment she grabbed it.
Even unconsciously, she refused to let go.
If the pain hadn’t eased and the magic hadn’t drained enough to make his body pleasantly languid, he might’ve suspected her of being a pervert.
…No, maybe she was one?
She was sprawled across the bed, burying her face in his palm as she slept.
Such a carefree woman.
The sensation in his hand felt strangely unfamiliar. As if it wasn’t his own.
It had been that way since the moment she cautiously took his hand yesterday. Even when he closed his eyes to ignore it, he couldn’t help but feel it.
A small, soft hand—barely half the size of his.
Kristan stared at that unfamiliarity for a long while. Even so, the warmth of a hand sharing his temperature remained foreign.
Carefully, without waking her, Kristan pulled his hand away. His body felt unusually light—normally he would’ve been in agony all night. Even in sleep, it seemed Roella had fulfilled her role properly.
The suffocating pressure, the heaviness, the pounding heart—all gone.
“Whew.”
Clenching and unclenching the hand that felt oddly numb for different reasons, Kristan left the bedroom.
The moment he stepped out, the head butler—clearly having stayed up all night—rushed toward him.
“Your Grace! Are you all right? Was there an effect?!”
“Fortunately, it seems so.”
“Congratulations, Your Grace! This truly is wonderful!”
Tears welled up in the elderly butler’s eyes. After wiping them away, he spoke cautiously.
“As you instructed, we’ve placed watchers on the Cipre Viscount household. And starting today, guards will also be assigned to Miss Roella.”
At that moment, Roella occupied the most dangerous position imaginable.
When he lay weak and helpless, she could have assassinated him at any time.
Other knights couldn’t even approach him due to the intoxicating magic radiating from his body.
In truth, Kristan had entrusted his life entirely to Roella.
Thankfully, she was a woman so weak he could snap her neck with one hand.
That was fortunate.
“How is Miss Roella? Was she in any danger?”
Kristan recalled Roella—the woman who smiled foolishly, asked if she should sit on the floor, and sank blissfully into the chair.
The way she’d widened her eyes while fiddling with his hand.
The way she’d fallen asleep with her face pressed into his palm.
Danger?
…Where would one even sense that?
If anything, her complete lack of guard was what worried him.
Did she really trust him that much? Someone she’d just met?
She didn’t seem to consider, even for a moment, that Kristan might harm her.
He replied quietly.
“Let’s observe her a bit longer.”
After all, she would be staying by his side from now on.
Kristan glanced once more at his bedroom—where Roella slept peacefully—before leaving.
