The Barschuen Scandal

The elderly lady, who bore a striking resemblance to the Archduke but with hair turned gray by the passage of time and faded hazel eyes, was the tacit ruler of the mansion in his absence.

The frail lady, leaning on a luxurious cane, slightly furrowed her brows.

She never approved of Ertia, who did not fit the image of an imperial noblewoman.

What should she say? Ertia, whose lips were trembling, finally spoke.

“I heard the Archduke is returning.”

“Yes. Didn’t you know? He visited yesterday as well.”

Ertia’s eyes wavered.

That’s right. She hadn’t known.

But that was probably because she had fallen into a deep sleep after her exertions. Ertia wanted to believe that.

So she mentioned another woman who was supposed to come with him, not the Archduke.

“I heard Lady Melmubor is also coming,”

“I instructed to greet her upon her return from studying abroad.”

But the response was cold.

No matter how different the cultures of the empire and the kingdom might be, it seemed inappropriate to ask a man with a wife to greet his former fiancée upon her return from studying abroad.

Ertia bit her lip.

“But, she is-“

“She is my guest. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Your Grace, Grand Lady, you should rest.”

The Grand Lady ignored Ertia’s words and walked past her coldly.

Even though Ertia had done nothing wrong, the butler following the Grand Lady also spoke to her with a chilly tone.

In the end, Ertia had to retreat without saying much.

Back in her room, she sighed deeply and looked out the open window.

The garden, lavishly decorated according to the Grand Lady’s taste, was in full view.

The hot, dry wind from the south seeped into the room.

Ertia sighed again.

She didn’t understand why she felt so stifled.

The suffocating feeling that had slowly started to bind her heart at some point during her married life had now spread widely.

***

Ertia had become the Archduchess by marrying Archduke Barschuen three years ago.

There had been a civil war in her homeland, the Kingdom of Anquetria, which the imperial army had intervened to stabilize.

The kingdom soon became a part of the empire, and the imperial family arranged a political marriage between the former princess, Ertia, and Archduke Barschuen .

-Are you the princess?

It was a political marriage, so there was no room for romantic feelings, but it was the Archduke who had saved her from near death during the civil war.

What were the odds that the man who saved her from the burning palace would coincidentally become her husband?

It was perhaps inevitable that Ertia fell for him.

His jet-black hair and deep blue eyes resembling the vast ocean. Her heart pounded every time the most handsome man she had ever seen looked at her.

-Ertia, will you marry me?

So Ertia accepted the ring he offered, thinking that the life ahead might not be so bad.

She had thought too lightly.

Fortunately, she had been able to speak the imperial language since childhood, but the cultures of the empire and Anquetria were vastly different.

Ertia, who grew up running across plains, hunting, wielding a sword, and living in a place where gender and status were not strictly distinguished, could not easily adapt to the life of an imperial noblewoman confined to social circles and dresses.

She was constantly reprimanded by the Grand Lady for lacking grace and etiquette.

The Archduke’s residence was a place where she could not move a single finger or toe as she wished.

She also had to live apart from her husband.

After returning from a performative honeymoon tour of Anquetria to show their union, the Archduke left Ertia in the southern archducal residence and departed for the capital alone.

Except for the occasional nights he came to see her, they did not meet.

Living alone in the archducal residence was hard.

The Grand Lady and the people of the residence did not acknowledge Ertia.

Though they did not openly disregard her, they compared her to the Archduke’s former fiancée behind her back.

The Grand Lady never liked Ertia, whose demeanor did not match that of an imperial noblewoman.

Ertia, with her naturally bright personality, managed to keep her spirits up, but there was a limit.

She kept asking the Archduke to stay with her, but he refused.

Was it customary for married couples in the empire to live apart?

It wasn’t. Ertia already knew the answer.

She didn’t want to trouble the person she loved, so she tried to adapt quietly, but the stifling feeling inside her only grew.

The fact that the only person who could solve this problem, the Archduke, was not by her side made it even worse.

Time passed quickly, and the day when her indifferent husband would return to the mansion approached.

What was the point of this marriage if she couldn’t even see the person she loved?

She felt exhausted.

Ertia thought bitterly.

“Ferdie!!!”

The distant sound of the mansion’s servants exclaiming reached her faintly.

Ertia, who had picked out her best clothes for today, approached the window.

Despite her weariness, her face flushed with the thought of seeing her husband.

The luxurious carriage pulled by four black horses stopped in front of the mansion.

Standing there was her husband, looking impeccable.

How long had it been since she saw him in the bright daylight?

Seeing him made her heart, which had been still, come alive and beat wildly.

At that moment, the door of the carriage opened.

Hazelnut-colored hair fluttered in the wind.

Ertia held her breath.

A white, smooth hand took the Archduke’s hand, offered with utmost courtesy.

Lady Melmubor, elegant and beautiful, appeared.

One of the servants, unaware of Ertia’s turmoil, let out another exclamation.

Ertia compared herself to the lady with the rosy cheeks.

No matter how much she brushed her hair, it would never shine like that lady’s.

Unconsciously, Ertia gripped the window frame.

Lady Melmubor, standing beside the Archduke, looked as if she belonged there.

They looked like a perfect couple from a classic fairy tale.

The Grand Lady, who always reprimanded Ertia for lacking grace, ran out without caring about dignity to embrace Lady Melmubor.

A smile Ertia had never seen before appeared on her face.

Ertia looked at the Archduke, who stood beside Lady Melmubor as if it was natural.

The quiet resentment that had been simmering in her chest began to roar.

Feeling another wave of gloom coming, Ertia quickly turned her back and fled the scene.

Knock, knock-

The sound of knocking came not long after, when she was lying sprawled on the sofa, blankly staring at the ceiling.

She hadn’t gone down to greet the Archduke. Perhaps it was more accurate to say she couldn’t.

Ertia sighed deeply and got up. Her drooping ashen hair swayed.

Who could it be? She wasn’t in the mood to see anyone.

When she opened the door, she saw a familiar yet unfamiliar uniform.

She had seen it at night but never in the daytime.

Her husband, cool and handsome, stood at the door.

Ertia’s blue eyes widened.

“…Archduke?”

“Ertia.”

The Archduke, who called her in a low voice, enveloped her spring.

Without hesitation, he pressed his lips to hers.

Ertia’s tightly curled lashes fluttered.

“Wait, just a moment,”

Ertia unconsciously took a step back from his embrace.

Outside, Lady Melmubor, who had been riding in the carriage with the Archduke, was probably chatting cheerfully with the Grand Lady.

“Ertia, relax…”

But the Archduke, not knowing why she was doing this, raised an eyebrow and stepped forward the same step she had retreated.

That contact made Ertia’s heart flutter foolishly again.

The one who loves loses, her late father’s words crossed her mind.

And so her lips were captured again.

The hand that had been trembling in mid-air was held by his large hand.

Their fingers intertwined, filling the gaps and digging in.

The familiar touches ignited a familiar warmth.

“Uhhhm…”

The Archduke’s permission quickly invaded through the gap and penetrated inside.

The thick flesh twisted around Ertia’s core, stimulating her and gradually raising the tepid temperature.

Ertia, who had been trying to bring up the topic while shaking off her depression, bit the Archduke’s lip.

It was meant as a sort of revenge, but he only let out a low chuckle, taking it as a light tease.

“I’ve waited for so long…”

Her heart pounded again at her husband’s low voice, filled with clear desire, in her ear.

Their lips parted, a string of saliva trailing between them, and the Archduke began to gently bite her neck.

Red marks like flowers bloomed where his lips touched.