Chapter 14
For once, Braeden was genuinely caught off guard.
He had never lost control of his expression in front of humans before—not even once.
“My fiancée? What do you mean by that?” Tristan asked, completely missing the mood. He pointed out Braeden’s choice of words, questioning why he had called Juliana his fiancée.
Braeden had to summon every ounce of patience he had. He could hear the twisted intent behind Tristan’s tone and see the ugly desire in his eyes.
“We’re holding an engagement ceremony next week. Is there a problem with the term?”
He tried to keep his voice steady, but the cold edge in it couldn’t be hidden. The chill that slipped through his words was enough to make most people’s knees tremble.
But Tristan, who had always prioritized his own emotions and lacked any real awareness of others, didn’t notice the danger at all.
Tristan had no idea how serious the situation was.
“So then, you’re really…”
Really getting married?
He couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence, but Juliana understood what he meant and stepped in.
“The wedding is in two months. The schedule is tight, so I’ll need your help, brother.”
As always, Juliana emphasized the word brother when she said it.
Tristan frowned sharply, knowing exactly what she meant by that.
“What could I possibly help with at a wedding like this?” he snapped.
As he spoke with irritation, he suddenly remembered Braeden was still there. He flinched, then quickly bowed.
“Then… I’ll be going inside now.”
Watching him stomp back toward the house, Juliana felt embarrassed and turned to Braeden.
“Please forgive his rudeness.”
“Why are you the one apologizing?” Braeden asked.
Juliana let out a quiet breath as she met his eyes. His red eyes, cooler than usual, made her realize just how warm they had been toward her before. The difference was striking.
“Don’t apologize for someone else’s mistake. You’re about to become the Archduchess. You shouldn’t lower your head so easily.”
He gently lifted her chin with his fingertips.
Was he telling her never to bow her head again?
Juliana looked up at him. Braeden had stepped so close that she had to tilt her head back just to see his face clearly.
“Yes. I’ll remember that,” she replied softly.
Braeden’s gaze briefly settled on her lips as they moved.
“I was thinking of heading back now,” he said.
Juliana blinked, unsure why something so simple suddenly felt so suggestive.
“Then, I’ll go inside first and let them know…” she said, her voice quickening just a little.
“I don’t like crowds. Let’s leave quietly,” Braeden said.
At his words, telling her not to inform anyone, Juliana’s eyes wavered with uncertainty. She didn’t know how to respond.
His fingers were still gently lifting her chin, making it impossible for her to look away. She had no choice but to keep looking at his face.
The closeness between them made her heart pound wildly.
His chiseled jawline, high-bridged nose, long and dark brows, sharp eyes, ruby-colored gaze that sparkled like a gem, and full, sensual lips—everything about him held her eyes completely.
Braeden watched as Juliana’s cheeks slowly flushed red. Then he spoke, his voice low and smooth.
“We agreed that we’d share a goodbye kiss, remember?”
Did we? Juliana wasn’t sure they had agreed to that every time. That thought briefly crossed her mind, but the moment she saw the way his lips curved into that dangerously charming smile, she couldn’t bring herself to say anything.
Braeden gazed down at her for a long moment before slowly leaning in.
He moved at a deliberately slow pace, as if teasing her on purpose, and the tension in Juliana’s chest tightened.
The moment reached its peak.
Soft lips met and pressed together. It wasn’t their first kiss, yet it still made Juliana’s knees weaken with dizzying intensity.
Braeden pulled her lower lip into his mouth, deep and slow. A shiver ran down her spine, and warmth began to pool low in her stomach. Juliana let out a soft, unsteady breath without realizing it.
At that, Braeden finally let her go, though his expression held a trace of reluctance.
Neither of them noticed how long the kiss had lasted—far too long for something that was supposed to be a simple farewell.
“I’ll see you again soon,” he said.
Juliana, her face flushed bright red, nodded. She knew their behavior wasn’t proper, but her voice refused to come out.
Braeden looked at her one last time, his gaze dark and lingering, before turning and walking to the carriage waiting at the estate’s entrance.
He climbed inside.
Lochlan followed and quietly closed the door behind them. The carriage began to move.
“This is the report on the Barnett family, as you instructed,” Lochlan said.
Lochlan handed him a document.
Braeden took it and began reading carefully, going through every detail.
When he finished, he let out a quiet breath and began tapping his fingers lightly against his thigh.
Reading the report after hearing what Juliana had shared made everything fall into place more easily.
It must not have been easy to grow up in that household without becoming twisted in some way.
He remembered the times Juliana had smiled with that faint, fragile expression, as if she might crumble at any moment.
Without realizing it, his grip tightened.
Snap.
The file in his hand split cleanly in two.
“Um… my lord, is something wrong?” Lochlan asked, glancing at him with a worried expression.
“No. It’s nothing,” Braeden replied. “Since we’re getting married, I should inform the Emperor.”
His expression tensed as he thought of his younger brother, David Ortis.
When Braeden had first decided to play the game of humanity, he could have taken the Emperor’s throne for himself. But he despised politics and anything that brought too much noise or trouble.
So, he chose the title of Archduke—high-ranking, but far removed in the North, far from the political chaos.
David wasn’t truly his younger brother, but since that was the role assigned to him in the human world, Braeden had no choice but to play along.
“It’s something I’d have to face sooner or later. Better to get it over with. Let’s head to the Imperial Palace.”
“Yes, understood,” Lochlan replied.
He knocked on the wall of the carriage to signal the coachman about the change in destination.
When they arrived at the palace, Braeden asked the chief attendant for an audience with the Emperor.
“Please wait a moment. His Majesty said he’ll come as soon as he finishes his current meeting.”
“Very well,” Braeden said.
He waited in one of the palace’s grand audience chambers, richly decorated for receiving high-ranking guests. It wasn’t long before the royal procession arrived.
“The Emperor and Empress will see you now,” the attendant announced.
A small crease formed on Braeden’s forehead.
He had asked to meet the Emperor. He hadn’t agreed to see the Empress.
Still, Braeden didn’t show any of that on his face. He greeted the imperial couple with his usual calm, expressionless demeanor.
“I greet His Majesty, the Sun of the Empire.”
“There’s no need for such flattering words. Save those for official ceremonies,” David replied with a friendly smile, motioning for him to sit.
“It’s been a while, Archduke,” said Empress Pamela with a shy smile.
“I believe we saw each other recently at the Duchess of Fraser’s birthday celebration.”
“Ah, is that so.”
Braeden answered flatly, without even the courtesy of a smile. Seeing his cold response, Pamela looked slightly embarrassed.
David took the chance to step in with a question.
“So, what brings you here?”
It was rare for Braeden to visit the Imperial Palace on his own. He was not someone who acted without a reason.
“I’m getting married,” he said.
Just as if he were commenting on the weather, David calmly lifted his teacup—only to suddenly jolt, the porcelain clinking sharply as it struck the saucer.
Empress Pamela, her face drained of all color, stared blankly at Braeden.
To any onlooker, it would have seemed as though they were delivering news of a death, not a marriage.
Braeden let out a silent scoff.
“It caught me off guard, that’s all. Congratulations,” David said at last. “May I ask, which noble house does the young lady who has won your heart belong to, Brother?”
“She is Lady Juliana, daughter of the Count of Barnett.”
“Ah, the Count of Barnett… You’ve found yourself a fine bride, indeed.”
For a brief moment, relief flickered across David’s eyes.
Had Braeden chosen a bride from a less powerful family, David’s own influence might have grown. But taking a noblewoman from such a prominent house meant David’s position could now be threatened.
Outwardly, he played the role of the affectionate younger brother, always appearing devoted and supportive.
But in truth, that kindness only lasted so long as Braeden remained the North’s shield—fighting off monsters and guarding against other races.
That was precisely why David had never pressured Braeden to marry, even though he had long since passed the usual age.
Instead, he pretended to respect his brother’s independence, all the while hoping to keep him bound to the battlefield.
Braeden, of course, saw straight through the act. He knew exactly what lay behind David’s feigned concern.
David was revolting.
And Empress Pamela, sitting beside him with wide eyes, feigning innocence and grace, was even worse.
The way his gaze occasionally lingered on Braeden’s face and body, barely concealing his lust, was utterly repulsive.
Braeden took a slow breath, gathering his patience.
Suddenly, the image of Juliana’s deep green eyes came to mind—calm and serene like a dense forest.
As those peaceful eyes surfaced in his memory, the irritation that had been rising within him quickly faded.
“We’ll hold a simple engagement ceremony in a week, and the wedding will take place two months later,” he announced evenly.
“Oh my, so soon?”
Empress Pamela spoke without thinking, her voice tinged with disappointment before she quickly shut her mouth.
David, who had paid little attention to anything she said, seemed lost in thought for a moment before speaking again.
“A simple engagement? That won’t do. I’ll arrange for you to use the Temple of Agnes within the Imperial Palace. Hold the engagement ceremony there.”
It appeared that David’s heart had softened, likely because Braeden was aligning himself with the Count of Barnett, a house with little sway in political circles.
The fact that he was willing to offer a temple inside the palace said as much.
“I appreciate your concern, but that won’t be necessary,” Braeden replied flatly, rejecting the offer without hesitation.
What good ever came from being in the Imperial Palace?
And the thought of holding an engagement ceremony in a temple—it was dreadful just to imagine.
“I must disagree,” David said firmly. “You are my only brother. It would be unacceptable to treat your ceremony with such indifference.”
Braeden clenched his jaw.
Moments like this made it difficult to suppress his growing disdain for human pretenses and politics.
“…If that is Your Majesty’s will, then I will humbly accept it,” he finally said, his voice tight with resignation.
Continuing to resist would solve nothing. With a heavy heart, Braeden surrendered to the Emperor’s so-called generosity.
After exchanging a few more words, he left the drawing room. As he walked through the central courtyard, a wave of frustration surged up inside him.
Running a hand through his hair, he gave in to the irritation he could no longer suppress.
His neatly styled hair fell out of place, but he couldn’t have cared less.
Braeden muttered under his breath,
“Why does it feel like there are more and more people I want to kill these days?”
Lochlan, who had been quietly following behind him like a shadow, replied calmly,
“If you’d like, I can put together a report on the most efficient ways to deal with them—cleanly, and without leaving a trace.”
