106

I expected Illya, the aide, to be here too, but it was just the Duke. He said he’d been making people work overtime lately and had sent them home early today. He seemed like a Duke faithfully following the advice he’d heard from TWCR.

“I don’t want to make you do work, though.”

Since that last request to stop collaborating on matchmaking, the Duke hadn’t been the one to ask for help first. I set my bag on the empty desk beside him and sat.

“You make people work overtime too much, Duke. What would you have done if I hadn’t been here?”

He snorted, propping his chin on his hand and regarding me sideways.

“Very reliable.” Amusement warmed his eyes as he spoke.

“Right?”

I agreed coolly and selected about half the stack on his desk that would be appropriate for the Chancellery to review. Thankfully they were mostly simple fact-checking or confirming whether the content fit the new form; since I had made the form, this couldn’t be faster or more accurate.

Heh. Hurrying with thoughts of an early leave, I felt the Duke’s gaze and looked up.

“Duke, is something wrong?”

He was staring just as before, chin propped; for no reason I felt awkward.

“I’ll reduce the number of overtime nights from now on. As you said, having an evening life should improve efficiency. With the new form you made and the simplified reporting system, it’s feasible. It may take time to adapt, but the result will be worth it.”

He seemed to recall my earlier joke about leaving early to meet my boyfriend.

“That would be wonderful. Shall we at least finish what’s in front of us first?”

I wanted to go out, but if I left he’d be the one making people work overtime tomorrow. I didn’t want that, so I kept my attention on the documents while we talked, deliberately ignoring the Duke, who somehow looked uninclined to work.

“How’s it been lately? Crown Prince.”

Fortunately, he resumed rustling papers again.

“He’s been poking around the central ministries; his people have infiltrated various departments. I hope there won’t be many encounters with you, but given his position he may summon you separately, which worries me. If that happens, tell me immediately.”

“You too, Duke.”

“Since His Majesty appointed him as Chancellor, I don’t think he’ll openly harm you like last time… but he’ll try to coax or wear you down until you collapse from exhaustion.”

I agreed with him.

“He probably wanted you to fail—make you cling to the post without recognition, then self-destruct. He sees you as a green, inexperienced secretary and assumes you’re clumsy. The secretaries he sent proved that by refusing to cooperate.”

The scratch of his fountain pen on paper suddenly stopped.

“So he wouldn’t just leave things as they were, after all.”

His anger from last time hadn’t faded, but seeing him softened my own anger.

“It won’t be me leaving on my own; it will be them. The Crown Prince will have to think of a way to unsettle me before that happens.”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, but I hate how people focus on everything but work. They hold noble titles yet shirk duty. It’s always been like that, but it’s getting harder to tolerate.”

In those few words I sensed the Duke’s frustration—living as imperial royalty, the next archduke, a duke, bearing duty after duty. He was so rigid I worried he’d snap.

There was no immediate solution, but we didn’t get discouraged; instead we lightened the mood by sharing small details of our daily lives.

“You hate carrots? That’s unexpected.”

“There’s no reason to like them. They have no taste.”

“But they’re healthy—and not especially tasteless.”

“You can certainly live without eating carrots.”

I learned the useful detail that the Duke, who didn’t seem picky, hated carrots. It seemed my favorite carrot cake would have to be enjoyed alone.

“Why on earth did Prince Raven summon you?”

He, having heard about my work, asked. I shook my head slightly.

“It was the Prince’s personal consultation. A secret.”

“I’m disappointed. I keep no secrets from you.”

At his sulky expression I laughed and marked the incorrect entries, noting the corrections.

“Is that so?”

I needed to tell him I wasn’t from another world, but I couldn’t find the right moment. I planned to confess someday.

“Ask me. I’ll answer anything.”

We hadn’t been together long; I didn’t want to bombard him with questions or unload too many truths at once. Still, this was a good opportunity, so after hesitating I spoke up.

“Um… at the department heads’ dinner. I hid my personality from the marshal and put on an act—were you very surprised? It looked like you and the Minister of Finance went pale.”

It had bothered me; I wondered if he was disappointed.

The Duke flinched, then covered his face with both hands and answered quietly.

“…It’s true I was surprised.”

My heart sank. I tried to appear composed, but my face went numb.

“I didn’t know you had this kind of charm.”

“…Yes?”

“I’d noticed you’re quick on your feet, but it’s admirable how composed you were in a situation that would upset anyone. Honestly… if you hadn’t acted, I might have been the first to—well, anyway, that’s how it turned out.”

His unexpected answer turned my numbness into a warm flush.

“I’ll have to sharpen my quick thinking—if you step in, it’s trouble. Uh, thank you from the bottom of my heart!”

After that we talked about the fiefdom I would receive, the Duke’s domain, and the archducal lands.

I had applied for a fief, and the Duke offered advice on managing it—useful information I stored in my mind.

“I have only one left now.”

Although we worked leisurely, we were efficient and nearing completion. One statute had ambiguous wording, so I needed to check the law books. I stood and walked slowly to the shelves lined with volumes; the one I wanted was just out of reach.

“…Ugh…”

Too lazy to fetch a ladder, I rose onto my tiptoes to pluck it, when a dark shadow fell over me.

“This?”

Distracted by the Duke’s face, I forgot to lower my heels and toppled backward.

Thud.

My head landed against the Duke’s chest as his arm wrapped around my waist. The sudden contact flushed my face and whatever composure I’d kept melted. I took the law book from his other hand and returned to my seat.

Ah, embarrassing. Give me a heads-up next time.

I flipped through the law book but couldn’t focus. The Duke, instead of returning to his seat, moved closer; I noticed and buried my face in the pages as if I hadn’t.

“Cornelia.”

There was no avoiding it. I slowly lifted my head; he gripped the desk with both hands and leaned forward.

“I wish you’d be more aware of what it means to be alone with a man confessing at such a late hour. You’re young; perhaps you don’t know.”

A mischievous smile tugged at his mouth. The moment his handsome face filled my vision, my body moved without thinking.

…!

My hand brushed one of his cheeks and his eyes widened.

I leaned in and pressed my lips to his, then pulled away. It was a light movement, like a bird pecking at food. Even I knew it was impulsive.

He froze. His reddened eyes trembled as if bewitched.

“I think it’s you who should be a little more aware, Duke.”

Even with my provocation, he didn’t move. I met his gaze without looking away.

Late into the night, our gazes locked like a battle of nerves in stifling air. It felt instinctive.

“Vespera.”

At that moment, something snapped.

He cupped the back of my neck, breathed raggedly, and attacked my lips as if to devour them. His weight pushed me back, his other arm wrapping around my back to hold me.

Our lips met without a seam; our breaths tangled. He pressed relentlessly, trapping my tongue. It was a greedy kiss that stole my breath, something I could never have imagined from his usually arrogant, gentlemanly self. I could barely keep up.

“Haah, wait.”

My head blurred. Suppressed sounds escaped him in ragged bursts; a restrained whimper slipped out. Still, he held my lips for a long time.