"That should do it."
He rose from the bed and pulled back the covers,
thud.
tossing them roughly onto the floor. Perfectly positioned for the servants to see.
"Then I'll get some sleep."
And with that, he flopped back onto the bed. All the effort he'd put in had left him exhausted.
More than anything, tonight was guaranteed to be free of ambushes. He didn't want to waste a night like this. He planned to fall asleep quickly and finally get some proper rest.
"...Your Grace."
Rose didn't climb onto the bed. She just stood there rigidly.
"Is this the respect and consideration you spoke of as a husband...?"
"Exactly."
He replied nonchalantly from where he lay.
"I won't lay a hand on you."
"..."
"So relax and go to sleep."
He wouldn't force anything unwanted on her. That was the greatest consideration he could offer Rose.
He figured she'd climb into bed now.
But.
"Hic."
Suddenly, he heard her stifling sobs. Thinking he'd misheard, he strained his ears.
"Hiccup."
No mistake. Rose was crying.
'What the hell for?'
Utterly baffled, he bolted upright.
"Sob."
There she was, tears brimming in her eyes, weeping quietly.
"...Why are you crying?"
Whether it was his incredulous tone or the question itself,
"Sniff."
Rose took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. But it only made her sobs grow louder.
"Hic, sob."
Tears finally began streaming down her cheeks.
Drip, drip.
Seeing the teardrops wetting the floor at her feet, he felt a bizarre mix of absurdity and guilt, like some thug.
'What did I even do?'
One thing was clear: he couldn't just leave her like this. With no choice, he got up and approached her.
"Madam, why are you crying?"
He racked his brain for anything he'd said wrong, but nothing came up. He'd only been generous in accommodating her.
'Is she crying from gratitude?'
No, that wasn't it. This was clearly sorrow.
"Madam, at least tell me why you're crying."
No matter how he thought about it, it wasn't his fault.
Assuming there must be some reason, he stood before her and waited. He couldn't exactly sleep alone like this anyway.
"-Your Grace,"
Finally.
After what felt like endless patience, just as he brightened at hearing her speak,
"you're being too kind to me. I think I misunderstood."
He plunged even deeper into confusion than before.
Why say that here?
"When you came into this bedroom tonight, I had braced myself."
For what?
"But as expected, Your Grace doesn't want to hold someone like me."
Only then did he understand her words, letting out a groan.
So... Rose thought,
"that I was going to take you tonight?"
Rose glanced at him through sniffles. Confirming the utter bafflement in his eyes,
"Wah."
she began sobbing even harder, more pitifully than before.
"Madam, come on."
He was at a loss. He knew how to make a woman cry, but not how to comfort one.
After some deliberation, the method he chose was,
"Stop crying."
wiping the tears streaking her cheeks.
"-!"
Rose's breath hitched for a moment.
Blink.
As she slowly blinked, another teardrop welled up and fell.
Wipe.
He silently focused on brushing it away. He didn't carry a handkerchief. Just rubbed her face with his large hands that could cover it entirely.
Blink, blink.
He wiped the tears right from the corners of her eyes and asked,
"All done crying?"
It wasn't particularly gentle, just rough handling, yet Rose stopped crying. The act itself seemed to halt her tears.
"Now answer me."
Rose sniffled once and spoke.
"It's... a right you could naturally demand of me. I thought you would."
So, she'd thought he'd force himself on her no matter what.
'Ha.'
He sighed, staring at the ceiling for a moment. He genuinely wanted to crack open her head and see what was inside.
She blushed at the mere sight of his bare skin, yet here she was fretting over marital duties.
Bold or just naive? He couldn't tell.
"Then let me ask: do you want me to hold you?"
Fear flashed in Rose's eyes.
"If Your Grace demands it... I couldn't refuse."
"That's the problem. I have no intention of demanding it."
"..."
"Did you think me some shameless brute who'd force himself on a woman who doesn't love him?"
Only then did Rose seem to grasp his words a little.
Roll.
Her eyes darted wildly. Then, in a voice she'd choked back,
"Really? Not because I'm ugly?"
"What...?"
He furrowed his brow, pressing his forehead. A headache was creeping in after ages.
"Why do you even think you're ugly? I've never said that."
"Mother..."
Damn that Vicander baron's wife.
Right, he remembered. The vicious words she'd hurled at Rose before she boarded the carriage today.
'How lucky for someone like you to marry into the Schmaikel family. Though Your Grace would never take a liking to you, of course.'
'What if Your Grace runs away seeing your face, sis? Stay locked in your room and don't come out.'
Hearing that growing up would twist even the sanest person.
"Let me say this now."
He lowered his hand from his forehead and met Rose's eyes.
"You're not ugly, Madam. Got it?"
"Yes..."
Rose nodded, her expression doubting it fully.
That idea was deeply ingrained in her head. Uprooting it would take a lot of work.
"And as for that, if you truly want it someday, I'll consider. But I won't demand anything first."
He'd never relaxed enough to sleep soundly in a bedroom anyway. With assassins potentially striking, how could he even think of intimacy?
In that sense, was she frustratingly dense or innocently pure? Unclear.
'She seemed so resolute for a reason.'
In her own way, she'd mustered tremendous resolve to approach the bed. Misinterpreting his words about handling marital matters.
"Feeling better now?"
"A little... yes."
"Then let's sleep."
He returned to the bed and flopped down again. There was another set of covers besides the ones he'd tossed, so he pulled those over himself.
'Can't do more than this.'
Comforting her this much was his absolute best. Trying something he wasn't used to made his mouth twitch.
Just maintaining a non-ferocious expression had his facial muscles working overtime.
Rustle.
He planned to ignore her if she cried again and just sleep, but surprisingly, Rose approached the bed quickly.
"Um, Your Grace."
"...What now."
"Should I sleep beside you?"
"You planning to sleep on the floor?"
"No..."
She really was high-maintenance.
Grumbling inwardly but answering dutifully, Rose finally fidgeted her way onto the bed.
The bed was enormous, so even from the opposite side, her body didn't touch his. Well, that's why he'd ordered the largest size.
Rustle.
He felt the fabric shift on her side as she pulled up her covers.
Now he could finally sleep...
"Your Grace."
"...Call my name one more time, and I'll force you to sleep."
"No, this is really the last time."
It was a sincere threat, yet Rose replied brazenly, whether from guts or total relaxation.
"What do you want to say."
"Well, today..."
Rose paused, then continued.
"Thank you... for today."
"If you're grateful, sleep quickly."
"Still the same, huh..."
Her final mutter was too mumbled to catch clearly. But with that, Rose finally went quiet.
'What a long day.'
Only then could he slightly relax his body.
Time to sleep fast. No assassins scaling the walls tonight, no swords bursting from under the bed. Deep sleep guaranteed.
So he thought, closing his eyes.
...But sleep wouldn't come.
A perfect chance for sound rest, and he knew it in his head!
Yet sleep evaded him.
His habit of closing his eyes while staying alert repelled sleep now that the situation was reversed.
Lying so close to someone was a first. The faint warmth from his right side was irritatingly uncomfortable.
Rustle.
The subtle noises Rose made were another factor keeping him awake. She was trying to be quiet, but in the silent night, every sound boomed like thunder.
The rustle of her body against the sheets, her soft exhales. Every little noise grated on his nerves, preventing sleep.
'Maybe count the patterns on the ceiling.'
They say repetitive, boring tasks help with sleep.
As that thought crossed his mind,
"Your Grace."
Rose whispered softly.
"..."
Ignore her. He was asleep right now.
"Your Grace, are you asleep?"
Why ask the obvious? With no reply—as expected—Rose even sat up.
Rustle.
The faint warmth he'd sensed grew, approaching his side.
"..."
He felt her faint breath up close. Even without opening his eyes, he knew she was leaning over, gazing down at him.
'Playing a dangerous game.'
His fingertips itched. The urge surged to spring up, pull her close, and slit her throat.
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