I returned home battered and bruised after a secret meeting disguised as a book club. Dealing with lively women was too emotionally draining for me.
“I’ll never go back. Home is the best.”
I felt quite at ease knowing I now had a space I could truly call my own. It was a place to return to, a place of rest and relaxation where I could wait for someone, or, conversely, where someone could wait for me. The verdant garden, tinged with spring foliage, the whitewashed mansion, and the scenery beyond were all mine to enjoy.
I sat on the garden swing, taking in the sweet spring air. I wished we could live forever, without our secrets being discovered, without the worry of war.
If something goes wrong, we can just go somewhere else. Even if it's much smaller than this place, as long as it's somewhere we can consider home, I don't mind. I wanted to let go of all my worries and just relax, but something Olivia or something said made me feel a little uneasy.
"Honey."
"Gasp."
Sitting upright, intoxicated by the spring breeze, I let out a startled, unsightly moan when Noah touched my shoulder. Perhaps because he was a former soldier, he seemed to have a knack for surprise attacks from cover.
“Yes, yes. Where have you been?”
“Tempshire Palace. Why are you surprised?”
Noah, dressed in a slim, classic suit with a high waistline, slowly tilted his head and asked. The elegant fit highlighted his broad shoulders and strong arms, and I quickly closed my lips, wide with admiration. "Am I marrying that man?" I asked, smiling awkwardly as the unbelievable reality dawned on me once again.
“You suddenly appeared.”
“I think I’ll be going to the Cynthia Empire soon.”
“Have a nice trip.”
“We should go together.”
“Why?”
“A couple always deals together.”
Who said something like that? Anyway, Medea's territory, Cynthia, sounds incredibly far away. I don't know why he's going, but since that man has already decided on the answer, I'll have to say yes.
“Yes, I should read a book about that place in advance.”
“It’ll be in the study. Should we go together now?”
At this rate, he'll probably ask me to go to the bathroom with him. That's a bit much. I nodded and took his hand as he helped me up.
I entered the mansion's study, found two or three books on the civilization, history, and geography of the Cynthia Empire, and settled into a sofa. Noah took off his coat and sat obediently next to me, opening a difficult tome on the political history of some state.
Warm sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating our feet as we stood side by side. The quiet atmosphere was filled only with the rustling of pages. After about ten minutes, while I was reading the Cynthia Arts and Culture section, Noah's curly hair tickled my chin.
He leaned forward, one hand holding a book, and leaned against my shoulder, his other hand surreptitiously wrapping around my waist. I couldn't even swallow as he drew closer and closer.
This man was becoming quite bold in his physical contact. He even pretended to read a book. I tried to focus on the words in the book and pretended nothing happened.
How far can this wicked hand reach!
I spoke in a calm voice, my eyes fixed on the book.
“It’s difficult here.”
“I haven’t done anything yet.”
“If you do that again, I’ll tie your hands.”
"Yes."
Knock knock.
“Are you there?”
“Come in.”
Molly, who entered the study after knocking, stared blankly at Noah, who was sitting quietly with his wrists tied in a tie. She glanced at him, restrained, and me, sitting next to him, before remaining silent for a moment, and casually stating her business.
"This is a materials procurement approval document. Please sign here."
Noah lifted his wrists, which were tightly bound and bound with a tie, indicating that his hands were not free.
“Because my hands are like this.”
I hurriedly untied the tie and wrapped it around his neck. I was sure I'd look like some weirdo who enjoyed sadistic tastes. Panicked, I desperately tried to come up with an excuse.
“Haha, Molly. Don’t get me wrong...”
"Molly, I'd appreciate it if you'd keep quiet about my wife's tastes. It's private, isn't it?"
Noah, who had signed the paperwork, feigned seriousness and squandered my opportunity to defend myself. Molly nodded with an indifferent expression, as if she didn't want to know or share such things.
“That’s not it, Molly.”
“I understand.”
"No. Don't force your understanding."
“I’ll never go back. Home is the best.”
I felt quite at ease knowing I now had a space I could truly call my own. It was a place to return to, a place of rest and relaxation where I could wait for someone, or, conversely, where someone could wait for me. The verdant garden, tinged with spring foliage, the whitewashed mansion, and the scenery beyond were all mine to enjoy.
I sat on the garden swing, taking in the sweet spring air. I wished we could live forever, without our secrets being discovered, without the worry of war.
If something goes wrong, we can just go somewhere else. Even if it's much smaller than this place, as long as it's somewhere we can consider home, I don't mind. I wanted to let go of all my worries and just relax, but something Olivia or something said made me feel a little uneasy.
"Honey."
"Gasp."
Sitting upright, intoxicated by the spring breeze, I let out a startled, unsightly moan when Noah touched my shoulder. Perhaps because he was a former soldier, he seemed to have a knack for surprise attacks from cover.
“Yes, yes. Where have you been?”
“Tempshire Palace. Why are you surprised?”
Noah, dressed in a slim, classic suit with a high waistline, slowly tilted his head and asked. The elegant fit highlighted his broad shoulders and strong arms, and I quickly closed my lips, wide with admiration. "Am I marrying that man?" I asked, smiling awkwardly as the unbelievable reality dawned on me once again.
“You suddenly appeared.”
“I think I’ll be going to the Cynthia Empire soon.”
“Have a nice trip.”
“We should go together.”
“Why?”
“A couple always deals together.”
Who said something like that? Anyway, Medea's territory, Cynthia, sounds incredibly far away. I don't know why he's going, but since that man has already decided on the answer, I'll have to say yes.
“Yes, I should read a book about that place in advance.”
“It’ll be in the study. Should we go together now?”
At this rate, he'll probably ask me to go to the bathroom with him. That's a bit much. I nodded and took his hand as he helped me up.
I entered the mansion's study, found two or three books on the civilization, history, and geography of the Cynthia Empire, and settled into a sofa. Noah took off his coat and sat obediently next to me, opening a difficult tome on the political history of some state.
Warm sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating our feet as we stood side by side. The quiet atmosphere was filled only with the rustling of pages. After about ten minutes, while I was reading the Cynthia Arts and Culture section, Noah's curly hair tickled my chin.
He leaned forward, one hand holding a book, and leaned against my shoulder, his other hand surreptitiously wrapping around my waist. I couldn't even swallow as he drew closer and closer.
This man was becoming quite bold in his physical contact. He even pretended to read a book. I tried to focus on the words in the book and pretended nothing happened.
How far can this wicked hand reach!
I spoke in a calm voice, my eyes fixed on the book.
“It’s difficult here.”
“I haven’t done anything yet.”
“If you do that again, I’ll tie your hands.”
"Yes."
***
Knock knock.
“Are you there?”
“Come in.”
Molly, who entered the study after knocking, stared blankly at Noah, who was sitting quietly with his wrists tied in a tie. She glanced at him, restrained, and me, sitting next to him, before remaining silent for a moment, and casually stating her business.
"This is a materials procurement approval document. Please sign here."
Noah lifted his wrists, which were tightly bound and bound with a tie, indicating that his hands were not free.
“Because my hands are like this.”
I hurriedly untied the tie and wrapped it around his neck. I was sure I'd look like some weirdo who enjoyed sadistic tastes. Panicked, I desperately tried to come up with an excuse.
“Haha, Molly. Don’t get me wrong...”
"Molly, I'd appreciate it if you'd keep quiet about my wife's tastes. It's private, isn't it?"
Noah, who had signed the paperwork, feigned seriousness and squandered my opportunity to defend myself. Molly nodded with an indifferent expression, as if she didn't want to know or share such things.
“That’s not it, Molly.”
“I understand.”
"No. Don't force your understanding."
Molly bowed and left the study. I slumped my shoulders helplessly. That fox-like man, covering his mouth and chuckling with amusement, was my husband. I lost to him again. I felt defeated, but winning and losing between a couple isn't important. Noah took my hand as I opened the book again and whispered secretly in my ear.
“Shall we go to the room now?”
The end of his voice, which had dropped significantly, faltered. The corners of his lips rose slightly, and his eyes, downcast with a subtle meaning, stared at me. My back arched at the sight of his languid face.
"Yes?"
“I don’t mind here either, I’m just uncomfortable.”
He took off his watch and placed it on the sofa table, then unbuttoned his shirt sleeve and lightly traced his lips with his tongue. I stared at his lips, sensuously wet. How could I possibly handle such a decadent man? This is driving me crazy, really.
As a hand brushed across my back, I felt the underwear inside my clothes rip open. It was a hook-and-loop underwear I'd made for my comfort here. He deftly untied it with one hand.
He must have had no need to untie it himself, since I was wearing practically light pajamas. I flinched and looked into Noah's blue eyes.
“...How did you do it?”
Certainly, he is far from naive. Rather, he is skilled.
Noah's lips curved loosely in response to my question, and he smiled coquettishly. He raised his finger, crossing his index finger and thumb, and answered.
"Like this."
I was staring blankly at his fingers.
The common thread between Erita and Olivia about Noah suddenly struck a chord with me. I've always felt he resembled, or was close to, a type I know: a domineering, affectionate man who seizes the upper hand in relationships. He's the typical bad boy.
Suddenly, I felt a sharp pain, like a sharp blade had been cutting me. I hadn't paid any attention to it before, but at some point, it had become a strange irritant, and now it was stabbing me in the heart. Unable to express my feelings, I clenched my fists.
“You’re skilled. This was made not too long ago.”
Noah's lips, which had been relaxed and curved, were now closed in a straight line, as if he had noticed the sharp thorn hidden in my mouth. That man is quick-witted.
“So, you don’t like it?”
"No."
A torn-apart feeling. Strangely, after having that man, I felt insecure and greedy. I wanted to have everything, even the past I didn't know about.
I dislike this form of obsession, so I try to control it, but I can't ignore the clinging jealousy. But I can't openly question him, saying, "Why are you so good at it? How many women have you dated? Did you treat them as well as you did me? Was I pretty?"
“It’s my first time. I like it.”
A calm voice sounded. Noah seemed to see right through my thoughts. I didn't know what kind of relationship "first time" meant, but I didn't bother to ask. He studied me questioningly with his sharp, mysterious blue eyes and added.
“Does that matter?”
His question made me feel a little ashamed of myself. It's not that I don't objectify myself, but I've dated many men since I started growing up, and yet I find myself jealous of his past, something I don't know about. I shook my head.
“It doesn’t mean anything, so don’t worry about it.”
He covered his mouth with the back of his hand and laughed softly, snorting. He lowered his hand, placed it on his knee, and leaned in closer. His red, wet eyes were narrow and narrow.
“Yeah, I got it.”
It was a surprisingly calm response. I felt as if I had dug my own grave, so I averted my gaze. After a moment's pause, he continued speaking softly.
“I don’t care if you know the guy well.”
“Me?”
Instead of answering, he gave me a smile. It was that signature, pretty smile, with plump, crescent-moon-shaped eyes and aegyo-sal under his eyes. I loved it.
So I smiled, shamelessly, as if nothing had happened. Inside, embarrassment welled up. Perhaps he had sensed something from my unconscious actions and tone of voice.
If I were in my original form, I'd tell the truth, but... If I keep making excuses, it'll get weirder. Why am I always the one in trouble? That's so strange, too. Noah emphasized again, unbuttoning the other sleeve of his shirt.
“That’s not a big deal, is it?”
"Is it so?"
He slowly reached out, his shirt sleeve slightly rolled up, and tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear. My eyes focused on the tendons on his wrist, visible beneath the rolled-up sleeve.
"My Princess is like someone from another world. I've felt that way since the beginning."
His words were sudden. Tension surged through me, and I bit my lower lip. He had a knack for closely observing and understanding others' attitudes, expressions, and actions, so I'd often imagined he'd sense the alienation of someone who'd come from the modern world. But I couldn't confess the truth. There was no way to prove or disprove it, and for some reason, I felt reluctant.
“Are you saying it’s unusual?”
“It was interesting. In the end, it was good because it was the person I was looking for.”
"Because I'm different from other women?" I swallowed the question that was troubling me. Noah is different from other men. No, he's different from ordinary men. No matter how handsome or wonderful they are, I'm not interested in other men at all; I don't feel anything for them. He added softly.
“That’s why it’s special and unique to me. Do you feel the same way?”
“Yes, me too.”
“Yeah. So, I hope you don’t mind anything else, from now on.”
That elegant command sent a shiver down my spine. I squeezed my eyes shut as his fingers, running through my hair, brushed against my earlobe. He watched me gasp softly and twitch my knees, and let out a low sigh, a sigh of relief.
“Oh, I can’t stand it anymore.”
“Shall we go to the room now?”
The end of his voice, which had dropped significantly, faltered. The corners of his lips rose slightly, and his eyes, downcast with a subtle meaning, stared at me. My back arched at the sight of his languid face.
"Yes?"
“I don’t mind here either, I’m just uncomfortable.”
He took off his watch and placed it on the sofa table, then unbuttoned his shirt sleeve and lightly traced his lips with his tongue. I stared at his lips, sensuously wet. How could I possibly handle such a decadent man? This is driving me crazy, really.
As a hand brushed across my back, I felt the underwear inside my clothes rip open. It was a hook-and-loop underwear I'd made for my comfort here. He deftly untied it with one hand.
He must have had no need to untie it himself, since I was wearing practically light pajamas. I flinched and looked into Noah's blue eyes.
“...How did you do it?”
Certainly, he is far from naive. Rather, he is skilled.
Noah's lips curved loosely in response to my question, and he smiled coquettishly. He raised his finger, crossing his index finger and thumb, and answered.
"Like this."
I was staring blankly at his fingers.
The common thread between Erita and Olivia about Noah suddenly struck a chord with me. I've always felt he resembled, or was close to, a type I know: a domineering, affectionate man who seizes the upper hand in relationships. He's the typical bad boy.
Suddenly, I felt a sharp pain, like a sharp blade had been cutting me. I hadn't paid any attention to it before, but at some point, it had become a strange irritant, and now it was stabbing me in the heart. Unable to express my feelings, I clenched my fists.
“You’re skilled. This was made not too long ago.”
Noah's lips, which had been relaxed and curved, were now closed in a straight line, as if he had noticed the sharp thorn hidden in my mouth. That man is quick-witted.
“So, you don’t like it?”
"No."
A torn-apart feeling. Strangely, after having that man, I felt insecure and greedy. I wanted to have everything, even the past I didn't know about.
I dislike this form of obsession, so I try to control it, but I can't ignore the clinging jealousy. But I can't openly question him, saying, "Why are you so good at it? How many women have you dated? Did you treat them as well as you did me? Was I pretty?"
“It’s my first time. I like it.”
A calm voice sounded. Noah seemed to see right through my thoughts. I didn't know what kind of relationship "first time" meant, but I didn't bother to ask. He studied me questioningly with his sharp, mysterious blue eyes and added.
“Does that matter?”
His question made me feel a little ashamed of myself. It's not that I don't objectify myself, but I've dated many men since I started growing up, and yet I find myself jealous of his past, something I don't know about. I shook my head.
“It doesn’t mean anything, so don’t worry about it.”
He covered his mouth with the back of his hand and laughed softly, snorting. He lowered his hand, placed it on his knee, and leaned in closer. His red, wet eyes were narrow and narrow.
“Yeah, I got it.”
It was a surprisingly calm response. I felt as if I had dug my own grave, so I averted my gaze. After a moment's pause, he continued speaking softly.
“I don’t care if you know the guy well.”
“Me?”
Instead of answering, he gave me a smile. It was that signature, pretty smile, with plump, crescent-moon-shaped eyes and aegyo-sal under his eyes. I loved it.
So I smiled, shamelessly, as if nothing had happened. Inside, embarrassment welled up. Perhaps he had sensed something from my unconscious actions and tone of voice.
If I were in my original form, I'd tell the truth, but... If I keep making excuses, it'll get weirder. Why am I always the one in trouble? That's so strange, too. Noah emphasized again, unbuttoning the other sleeve of his shirt.
“That’s not a big deal, is it?”
"Is it so?"
He slowly reached out, his shirt sleeve slightly rolled up, and tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear. My eyes focused on the tendons on his wrist, visible beneath the rolled-up sleeve.
"My Princess is like someone from another world. I've felt that way since the beginning."
His words were sudden. Tension surged through me, and I bit my lower lip. He had a knack for closely observing and understanding others' attitudes, expressions, and actions, so I'd often imagined he'd sense the alienation of someone who'd come from the modern world. But I couldn't confess the truth. There was no way to prove or disprove it, and for some reason, I felt reluctant.
“Are you saying it’s unusual?”
“It was interesting. In the end, it was good because it was the person I was looking for.”
"Because I'm different from other women?" I swallowed the question that was troubling me. Noah is different from other men. No, he's different from ordinary men. No matter how handsome or wonderful they are, I'm not interested in other men at all; I don't feel anything for them. He added softly.
“That’s why it’s special and unique to me. Do you feel the same way?”
“Yes, me too.”
“Yeah. So, I hope you don’t mind anything else, from now on.”
That elegant command sent a shiver down my spine. I squeezed my eyes shut as his fingers, running through my hair, brushed against my earlobe. He watched me gasp softly and twitch my knees, and let out a low sigh, a sigh of relief.
“Oh, I can’t stand it anymore.”
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