He rose from his seat, already preparing to leave.
"Your Highness."
Asella's fingers closed carefully around the sleeve of his shirt.
Calix shuddered.
He froze—held rigid by that barely perceptible force, as though her touch had turned his muscles to stone.
And in that moment, Asella recognized something strange. Something *powerful*.
*Every time I touch him, he becomes more lenient.*
Even now, when she merely held the fabric of his sleeve, he couldn't seem to move. Couldn't pull away.
*Perhaps I imagined it.*
*But it's worth trying...*
Her fingers slid carefully beneath his cuff, toward the warm skin of his wrist. A moment later, both her hands were wrapped around his large, calloused palm.
"Asella?" He turned, looking down at the small woman with questioning eyes.
She suppressed the fear rising in her throat and whispered:
"Just let me see my little sister."
His breath caught.
"Please."
Again, those mysterious sparks of ruby light flickered in his implacable crimson eyes—brief, brilliant, gone. After a long moment, Calix replied with a soft, reluctant sigh:
"Once a week. No more."
"But Your Highness—"
"These are my final conditions." His voice cut through her protest like a blade. "If you don't accept them, everything will remain as it is."
But his tone was too cold. *Deliberately* cold—as though he were fighting against himself.
Asella bit her lower lip until it stung.
If she refused this man, he would cancel Mariel's transfer to the protection of the Loctrin name. The girl would remain branded a traitor. Sooner or later, she would be executed.
*Which means...*
This blackmail of his was no different from gambling. Very well, then. She needed her own trump cards.
Her eyes went dry. Her heart filled with iron determination. Without releasing his hand, she braced herself against the bed with her free arm and slowly rose to her feet.
His body tensed immediately, ready to support her.
"You should lie down a little longer—"
She let go of his hand.
A second later, her legs buckled beneath her.
Asella collapsed into his arms.
*Damn it!* The thought flashed through Calix's mind like lightning.
He narrowed his eyes, fighting for control. But it was useless.
*That feeling again...*
It was as if a thousand tiny, soft paws were massaging his brain. His body responded with a strange, unbearably sweet heat—impossible to resist. He couldn't push her away. No—*rather*—
"Why did you get up if you can't even stand on your own two feet?" he whispered reproachfully.
For some reason, his voice had abandoned him. The words emerged hoarse, strained.
His blood melted like butter touched by flame. He felt himself losing control completely. In an instant, it boiled—consumed by a maddening, overwhelming need.
*I have to leave. Now. Immediately.*
He fought to regain his senses. His wife could barely stand. She had fainted multiple times from the shock she'd endured. He shouldn't torment her with his base desires. Not now. *At least* not now.
But the woman's gentle breathing—the subtle rise and fall of her soft breasts beneath the thin fabric of her nightgown—drove him to the edge of madness.
"Your Highness," Asella murmured.
She leaned her hands against his chest, resting her head between her palms. Her silver hair cascaded over her shoulders like moonlight on water.
Calix held his breath.
It felt as though his heart might stop altogether. His desire surged toward its peak—cresting, threatening to break.
"Not now..." He struggled to maintain composure, his voice barely a rasp. He gently removed her hands from his chest and carefully stepped back.
"Why are you doing this to me?"
Asella had been shocked and confused when he'd lifted her moments ago. But now she approached him again—just as she had done once before.
She had discovered his weakness.
*Do you think I'll yield simply because you look at me like that?*
It wasn't difficult to guess why the woman had suddenly become so submissive. She was trying to change his mind. Manipulate him with her proximity, her softness, her devastating vulnerability.
But Calix Benvito would not retreat even a single step.
However... it seemed the man had overestimated his own resolve.
"I will never run away again."
He stared at her.
"It's true," Asella whispered, still clutching the fabric of his shirt. Her blue eyes shimmered with unshed tears. "I can't stay here."
Of course, he should say no. But the word lodged in his throat, refusing to emerge. He gazed silently into those eyes—quiet as mountain lakes, deep as the sky reflected in still water—and a strange feeling, impossible to explain, swelled within his chest.
"How can I trust your promise?" He heard himself speak in a voice he didn't recognize. Soft. Almost tender.
*Perhaps it's because she's so close.*
Calix had already accepted that every time she approached him like this, he became increasingly... *attached*.
"What must I do to make you believe me?"
The question hung between them. And he suddenly realized, with startling clarity, that he had absolutely no answer.
"Please say yes." Those blue eyes pulled him in like a whirlpool—spiraling, inescapable.
Calix looked down at her, utterly stunned.
*I simply cannot refuse her. It's impossible.*
He rubbed his face roughly with one hand—a desperate attempt to break the spell. Then he lifted Asella into his arms.
---
## — The Study —
Raizen placed the documents on the prince's desk and delivered a brief summary of the situation:
"In just two days, Mariel's title as heir to the Loctrin family will be officially announced. She will also be declared rightful owner of all lands and fortune."
"Excellent."
The Archduke's face—which had been carved from ice until yesterday—looked noticeably softer today. Calmer. More human.
Raizen didn't doubt for a moment that the Grand Duchess was responsible. He exhaled quietly, relief loosening the tension in his shoulders.
"Anything else?" Calix asked.
"We've submitted a formal request to the Great Temple and the Magic Tower. No response yet, but I expect they'll reply soon."
"And Mariel Loctrin's whereabouts?"
"Our informant in the Gevium Prefecture reported that a very young girl recently arrived at the Daesijeon Great Hall." Raizen paused. "I believe it's almost certainly her."
Calix considered this for a moment, weighing the facts. Raizen studied his liege lord's expression, then asked cautiously:
"What are your orders?"
In truth, Karma could have abducted the child at any moment. But—
"First, we will attempt to formally secure the transfer of Mariel Loctrin through proper channels. As her guardian, the Principality of Benvito has every legal right to do so."
"Yes, Your Highness."
"How is the rest of the investigation progressing?"
"No significant results yet, I'm afraid. Security at the imperial palace has been extraordinarily tight lately. Our operations have become... difficult."
"It doesn't matter. Search with extreme care. Don't allow anything to slip through. There must be traces of Fernando's magic remaining somewhere."
"Understood. I'll keep that in mind."
Having finished his report, Calix leaned his elbow on the armrest of his chair and rested his chin on the back of his hand.
Raizen, recognizing the gesture, stepped back several paces to avoid disturbing his master's contemplation.
Calix gazed thoughtfully out the window at the neighboring tower for a long, silent moment. Or rather—at the wide window with its tightly drawn curtains.
His Highness's bedchamber.
And Asella, apparently, was still there.
Raizen studied the young Grand Duke's face and allowed himself a small, satisfied smile, absently rubbing his shirt cuff. *Thank the goddess*, he thought.
---
In addition to their truly diabolical abilities, all previous Grand Dukes of Benvito had been *impossibly* possessive—of everything, including their wives. Even the strict etiquette of contract marriages had never tempered their fierce desire to possess not merely a woman's body, but her very soul.
Raizen recalled the old stories.
One of Calix's great ancestors had once killed his wife's supposed lover on the spot and locked the unfortunate woman in the secret chamber for years. It later emerged there had been no betrayal at all—merely a frivolous game played by a bored wife hoping to tease her husband and rekindle a fading passion.
But to her horror, the truth changed nothing.
> *"You should just kill me."*
After months of excruciating solitude—forbidden to see a single living soul except the Grand Duke himself—the woman had prayed for death.
But neither prayers nor tears helped.
According to legend, the prince had told his wife that he had no intention of killing the woman who was his lawful property. She should think only of her husband. *"Whether you like it or not, you will have to think only of me—and dread the day when I forget you and never come again. Because then you will find yourself completely alone."*
Her entire dreary existence became one endless wait for her master's visit.
Perhaps that was why this particular couple—in a family where more than one child was a rarity—had subsequently produced three more heirs. Of course, only one survived the brutal internecine war between the three brothers.
Most Grand Ducal marriages, if one looked closely, had not been cloudless affairs.
But what was *surprising* about the Benvito family was the complete absence of illegitimate children. No mistresses. No scandalous affairs. Nothing.
Everything was *absolutely* pure.
Not from any sense of chastity, of course. The Benvito family simply despised contact with outsiders.
*Why waste effort on a woman who could never bear a legitimate heir?*
This didn't mean there were problems in the bedchamber. Quite the opposite. Though the family was extraordinarily secretive, they couldn't stop people's curiosity. At salons and tea parties—gatherings held exclusively for noblewomen—there were always those who would subtly probe the newlywed Grand Duchesses with pointed questions.
The responses varied: blushing, stammering, hasty changes of subject. But from their behavior, it was easy to conclude they had spent *very* pleasant nights indeed.
The Grand Duke of Benvito, no matter when he was born, had *everything*. Despite the countless rumors of unrivaled cruelty, the Benvito princes were always considered the most desirable marriage partners among noblewomen across the Empire.
*Perhaps it was this particular woman who was different?* Raizen asked himself silently.
Only one family had ever *willingly* sought to marry into the Benvitos—and they had always refused even the most lucrative offers from others.
The Charts family. Now vanished.
It had seemed impossible that families with such disparate political interests could intermarry. The Benvitos had always been the backbone of imperial power; the Charts were the right wing of the Great Temple. In terms of influence and wealth, the families were equals. But the Benvitos could never match the Charts' sacred connection to the Temple.
Then the current Emperor had ascended the throne, and the balance of power shattered.
The unfortunate Adele died in a treacherous attack. The Emperor, with Philippe's unwitting help, systematically eliminated all the key vassals of the Charts—tying the underage heirs hand and foot.
Philippe, unknowingly a mere puppet, was installed as guardian of the Charts sisters.
Then, piece by piece, the Emperor stripped away everything that had belonged to them. And that stupid dog Philippe never even noticed.
Everything had been so carefully orchestrated that Philippe genuinely believed he could lead such an ancient, prestigious family without any talent whatsoever. And when a marriage proposal arrived from his sworn enemy—from *Benvito*—the fool somehow convinced himself that the alliance would strengthen his position.
Of course, Calix had played no part in this elaborate scheme. He had touched the situation only tangentially, and only in connection with his final bargain with the Emperor. He'd had no particular designs on the Charts family.
At least, that was what Raizen had believed.
But the moment Asella Charts came of age, Calix—as if he'd been waiting for precisely that day—immediately ordered marriage negotiations to begin.
Not only Lord Cardon, but every one of Benvito's vassals had been utterly bewildered by the decision. Yet none had considered defying their liege lord's wishes. The word of the Grand Duke was law. Always had been.
And so Asella Charts, for the first time in her family's history, had become Asella *Benvito*.
But then... many things had happened that Raizen couldn't understand.
He knew the newlyweds had never properly consummated their wedding night. That truth had been carefully concealed—only a handful of people had ever guessed. But it was *strange*.
The Benvito family had always possessed a fierce obsession with their brides. On wedding nights, the Grand Dukes would claim their wives with such intensity it was almost like branding cattle—marking them as property.
Yet after that first night, the prince's behavior toward his wife had shifted dramatically. Cold-blooded and cruel to vassals, relatives, even children—he was inexplicably *kind* to her. Gentle. Considerate.
Most likely, Raizen reflected, the previous Grand Duke's harsh treatment of Calix had stemmed from his inability to forgive his son for his mother's death.
Calix's mother had died shortly after giving birth, never fully recovering from the difficult labor. Neither money nor the Benvito family's vast resources and connections had helped. The woman wasted away before their eyes, and nothing could save her.
Days passed. Weeks. Months.
But apparently, Asella's chastity remained untouched. And the relationship between the spouses continued to confound all expectation.
---
While Raizen remained lost in these thoughts, Calix kept his gaze fixed on the distant window.
"Raizen."
"Yes, Your Highness."
"Release all those who were arrested. Return them to the service of the princess."
"Yes, Your Highness."
To some extent, this was an expected order. Remembering how devastated the princess had been upon learning of the arrests—fearing her people from Charts Manor had been executed—His Highness had hesitated to punish them immediately. He had simply ordered their detention.
Though at first, no one in the castle had expected them to survive at all. Not after news of the Grand Duchess's sudden disappearance had spread.
But such mercy from Calix Benvito still shocked everyone. To Raizen, at least, it was clear this was nothing more than concern for his runaway wife. The prince understood how attached Asella had become to her maids and Lady Margot during her brief time at Benvito Fortress.
*We need to resolve this quickly*, Raizen thought.
As soon as Count Roman—currently serving faithfully on the principality's border—had learned of his wife's arrest, he'd immediately sent a petition for her pardon. Several other nobles whose relatives had been detained in the same sweep had followed suit. They hadn't dared request a direct audience with His Highness, but they had desperately contacted Count Cardon, begging him to intervene on behalf of their loved ones.
"Your Highness," Raizen ventured, "shall I order the princess to be escorted back to her own chambers?"
"No. She will remain in my bedchamber until she has fully recovered."
"But then... what should the maids do?"
"Invite Lady Margot to attend Her Highness. The rest should prepare everything as required in the princess's quarters and remain there, waiting until she returns."
"And how soon might that be?" Raizen asked, turning up the brightness of the desk lamp. The sun had nearly set; the room was growing dim.
"What does the doctor say?"
"He reports that he is preparing special magical remedies to treat Her Highness for the lingering effects of the shock she experienced."
"So the charlatan has finally decided to do his job."
Raizen felt a pang of sympathy for the unfortunate physician. The man possessed excellent professional skills, but he had been forced to endure the terrifying pressure of a Grand Duke driven half-mad with worry.
"I have also been informed that the mistress is gradually regaining her appetite," Raizen added prudently, recalling the head chef's haggard face—the dark circles that had formed beneath his eyes and stubbornly refused to fade. In some ways, that poor man truly owed his continued existence to Count Cardon's intervention.
At that moment, the annoying chime of a pocket watch echoed through the study.
"It's time for your tea, Your Highness. And what would you prefer for dinner this evening?"
"I will eat in my bedchamber."
Raizen's eyes widened.
"With... Asella?"
*It would be wiser to give her time to recover*, he thought. *Let her regain her equilibrium before—*
But he said only: "Then I shall request something light from the kitchens."
Fortunately, a similar thought seemed to have occurred to his master.
"You know," Calix said slowly, his gaze still distant, "I was thinking... my wife doesn't particularly enjoy dining with me."
---