Chapter 90
Walter briefly checked the schedule for tomorrow with his attendants and returned to his room.
Preparing for bed without the help of subordinates wasn’t all that bothersome to him. The series of actions, undressing and washing himself, was as natural as flowing water.
Having graduated from the officer’s academy where personal attendants weren’t allowed, and after years spent on the front lines, he sometimes even preferred doing things alone. Just like today.
“……”
A sigh followed by a soft laugh spread thickly through the dark room.
From the moment Hermia had said they should return to the lodging quickly at the restaurant, he’d had to keep calming himself by thinking of the glory of his homeland and his people.
He felt like a teenager lost in the throes of desire, unsure what to do with himself.
Was this the delayed consequence of forced abstinence since the day they set off on this journey? He couldn’t even remember how he’d lived before marriage.
Just her small gestures, the glance of her eyes, or the lingering scent where she’d been was enough to provoke a full-body reaction—and that kept making him laugh in disbelief.
On top of that, Hermia was always honest.
In moments when her mind wasn’t clear, her thoughts seemed to spill out without filtering through reason. That pure, nearly unconscious honesty threw his mind and senses into disarray.
Even if it was because of the curse, whenever she expressed her true feelings so openly, Walter’s self-control would fly out the window. It was, quite literally, irresistible.
Hermia didn’t dislike intimacy, and she was often the one to take the initiative, like today. That was welcome, but he’d realized he needed to restrain himself whenever he found her passed out from exhaustion.
She had gained a bit of weight since they’d first met, but she still wasn’t at a healthy level. Her stamina, too, was far below that of an average person.
Walter had concluded that he needed to release some of his own tension ahead of time if he wanted to stop himself from overwhelming her.
He’d never planned to marry in his life, yet here he was, worrying about this.
Suppressing another hollow laugh, he firmly set the window latch to keep the shutter from falling, then gazed at the quiet street below for a moment.
As he considered whether to go out for a run before Hermia returned, a soft knock came from the wooden door.
It hadn’t even been thirty minutes since she’d gone to the hot spring, yet she was back already?
“I prepared a simple snack. Would you like some?”
When he opened the door, it wasn’t Hermia. It was the innkeeper, holding a wooden tray.
Walter glanced at the small flask and the plate of sweets, then stepped aside. A hopeful smile quietly appeared on Maggie’s face.
She quickly stepped inside, passing the space the Duke had made for her, and set the tray on the table.
“This is local specialty liquor and cookies made with cheese. It’s probably not as luxurious as what you usually have, but it’s quite tasty.”
“Take the liquor back. Bring me a drink instead.”
Leaning against the doorframe, he spoke flatly and gestured with his chin at the flask. Maggie swallowed hard, staring at the man’s form under the moonlight.
“This isn’t just any liquor. It’s practically a miracle tonic for men.”
She spoke in a suggestive tone and let the shawl around her shoulders fall to the floor. Walter’s brow furrowed immediately.
The woman was wearing a thin nightgown, nearly see-through. Confident in her body, her expression was bold.
“How about it? A little night adventure… wouldn’t the Duchess forgive that? I heard you’re someone who could get away with such things.”
Walter let out a short sigh.
It was no different from the maid he’d seen at his home during a short visit over the holidays, the nurse who’d volunteered just to get close to him, or the daughter of a superior who’d shamelessly shown up at a party he was invited to.
The same flesh, just another body. To him, there was no impression beyond that.
It was the same this time. Though, this time, the discomfort felt even stronger.
He folded his arms and looked at the woman with the expression one might have for a nuisance. Quietly resolving to end this without causing a scene—for Hermia’s sake too—he spoke.
“I don’t want a commotion. Please leave.”
“The Duchess is enjoying a leisurely bath with her maids right now. She said it takes at least an hour of soaking for it to work. So you’ve got time.”
Maggie kept her eyes on the Duke in his robe, slowly approaching him. The closer her curvy body came, the more his face hardened.
She didn’t stop. She even let down her hair. She was sure it looked sensual, but to Walter’s eyes, it was no different from an orangutan shaking its mane. She had no clue.
“If you’re still worried, my room is upstairs… We could go there… Eeek!”
Just as she stepped forward toward the door, she was pushed quickly into the hallway.
With a deeply annoyed expression, Walter tried to shut the door. But Maggie, not giving up, stuck her hands through the gap.
Seeing her hands wedged between the door, he paused. Her fingers, clutching the frame desperately, had gone white.
“Please wait, Duke. Please…”
“Let go.”
“Just one chance. I’m good. You’ll change your mind once you try.”
“Hey, while I’m still being nice—”
“The Duchess is probably enjoying herself plenty by now!”
What?
Hearing something that couldn’t possibly be right, the door opened again.
Maggie blinked rapidly, flustered and stammering.
“No, that’s not what I meant, I mean… so, it’s just…”
“Scott!”
Walter stepped into the hallway and called loudly for his subordinate. At the same time, the door next to his burst open and a man with a rifle rushed out.
“Go ahead.”
Maggie clenched her teeth when she saw the muzzle of the gun pointed at her head. In her haste, she’d let a slip of the tongue escape.
Her legs trembled, and she nearly stumbled down the stairs multiple times, but it didn’t look like anyone would help even if she collapsed. Clinging to the railing, Maggie struggled to take each shaky step.
Walter didn’t hesitate as he kicked open the door leading from the back of the inn to the hot spring entrance.
A cloud of steam blurred their vision. Slowly, silhouettes of women in bathrobes began to emerge through the haze.
“…Hermia?”
His wife was furiously kicking at something with the maids.
“Die! Die, you bastard!”
Hermia kept shouting curses and relentlessly kicking the limp figure on the floor, unaware of anyone entering.
Sergeant Scott, who had followed behind, spotted his own wife and lowered his cocked revolver.
“Emily!”
“Honey!”
Emily rushed over, but instead of running to her husband, she went straight for Maggie and grabbed her by the collar.
“You! How dare you do this to my lady?”
“Please, spare me! I was wrong!”
Maggie dropped to her knees, begging for forgiveness, but Emily’s fury wouldn’t subside so easily. She shoved Maggie away in disgust and reported to her mistress, seething with anger.
“She messed with the wine she brought as a local specialty! And then, a bit later, some thugs barged in!”
She turned and screamed at Maggie, who was now cowering and trembling on the floor.
“Those men confessed it was your doing. They said it was for the lady to have her ‘fun’ without consequences, since it’d be too shameful for a noblewoman to pursue the matter! Do you even realize this is a serious crime? There’s no way we’re letting this slide!”
“I—I was wrong! Please, spare me! I must’ve lost my mind for a moment!”
Walter left his wife in the care of the sergeant and Emily, then strode toward Hermia.
The men she was trampling showed no sign of consciousness. Still, he couldn’t allow his wife to remain standing over strange men, her calves fully exposed beneath her robe.
“Hermia, that’s enough.”
“Walter! Good, you’re here. These men need to be locked up!”
He pulled his agitated wife away from the thugs and examined them. All three had been knocked out cold, each having taken a direct hit to a vital spot. He already knew who had done it.
Whistle! A sharp whistle echoed, and from atop the high wall, Eagle swooped down.
“Assassins?”
Walter asked if the intruders had come to kill. Eagle shook his head.
[Town Thugs]
Walter glanced down at the note Eagle handed him, then looked at the innkeeper. So, that woman had used the local men to target his wife. How dare she.
“Oh! He’s back again. He flew in earlier and started beating up these guys, then disappeared!”
“……!”
Hermia approached Eagle with a familiar look, and he flinched, stepping back. Talented though he was, Eagle had a severe fear of women, making him the perfect bodyguard for her.
“Emily, tie that woman up. Sergeant, Eagle, clean this up and bring them to the lobby.”
Walter issued his orders quickly, then gently placed his hands on Hermia’s shoulders.
He had expected some kind of danger to come after they married. But not like this. He hadn’t imagined it would be a deranged woman, not a trained assassin, who’d chill him to the bone.
“Are you hurt anywhere?”
“No.”
“…Did you drink any of the wine?”
“No, I didn’t. I regretted drinking champagne last time, remember? I did good, right?”
Finally, he let out a soft laugh.
“You did well.”
“When they burst in, I grabbed my clothes first and put them on. That was good too, right?”
“Yes. That was also well done.”
He felt her heartbeat thumping against him. Concerned, he looked her over.
Hermia was trembling now. She didn’t seem to realize her words were coming out fast, trying to pretend she wasn’t scared.
“Your man knocked those guys down, but I helped too. I threw my shoe. I threw rocks. I told Emily to go get you…”
“Hermia.”
He slowly patted her shoulders, and large teardrops fell from her wide eyes.
“It’s alright. You did well.”
“…….”
She buried her face in his chest and cried quietly, holding back her sobs. Every now and then, instead of crying sounds, faint curses escaped from her lips. She must have been more frightened than she let on.
Though his hand gently stroked her back, a fierce storm raged across Walter’s face.
