I Refuse This Life, Your Highness! - Chapter 110

The day of the Duke’s departure dawned bright and clear, as if the rain from the previous days had been a lie. While the ground beneath the horses’ hooves was still muddy and damp, it was dry enough to promise a relatively smooth journey to their destination.

“I’m glad the weather cleared up,” Yuraine said.

“It’s thanks to you,” the Duke replied.

Yuraine couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. She wasn’t a god of weather—what could she have done? But the Duke always said such things, and by now, she had grown used to it. She looked up at him seated on his horse and said softly:

“Be safe.”

Though it would only be a few days, her voice carried an unmistakable note of longing. The Duke, catching her tone, gave her a quiet smile before leaning down to kiss her. It was a brief kiss, a habit they had formed before each of his departures. As their lips parted, he hesitated, then leaned in for another short kiss as if reluctant to let go.

“You stay safe, too. Take care of the castle while I’m gone.”

“Yes.”

At the Duke’s signal, the sound of a horn echoed, marking the beginning of their march. For the next three days, the Duke would be absent. Though Yuraine knew he would return soon, this moment always left her with a sense of loneliness and unease.

She stood on the castle walls, watching the long procession until it completely disappeared from view. Then, steeling herself, she descended the stairs with brisk steps.

It had been a month since Iser declared independence as the Grand Duchy. Freed from the Empire’s centuries-old oppression, the newly established state was bustling, busy carving out a new chapter in its history. The Duke and Duchess had an endless list of responsibilities, and there was never enough time to accomplish them all.

Even their moments of quiet intimacy as a couple were scarce, and whenever the Duke had to leave on official duties like this, Yuraine couldn’t help but feel a hollow ache in her heart.

But there was no time to dwell on it. After seeing off the departing procession, Yuraine threw herself into her work. With Iser’s elevation to a sovereign state, there were countless matters to address: citizenship records, taxation systems, diplomatic relations, trade agreements, and more. As Grand Duchess, her responsibilities had grown far beyond the domestic and charitable duties she had once managed.

From sunrise to well past nightfall, Yuraine worked tirelessly. By the time the rain began to fall again and her tasks were finally complete, it was well past midnight.

“Ugh…”

As Yuraine stood, she winced. Her body felt unusually heavy, and a faint warmth radiated through her limbs. She wasn’t surprised—she hadn’t taken a single day off in over a month, and it was a wonder her body had lasted this long.

She decided to take a bath, call for some medicine, and then rest. Tomorrow’s workload was waiting, after all.

But as she walked from her study to her chambers, she began to feel that something was off.

“Your Grace?” someone called out to her, their voice tinged with concern.

Yuraine raised a hand, stopping them from approaching. The footsteps halted.

“Let no one near my chambers,” she said, her voice firm despite her pallor. The flush creeping across her face was faint and went unnoticed by the person standing at a distance.

“Bring me fever medicine—enough to last the night—and leave it at the door.”

“Shall I summon a physician?”

“No. Just the medicine. And ensure no one comes near.”

“Understood.”

The hurried footsteps retreated, leaving her alone. Yuraine leaned heavily against the wall, her strength waning. Even the short distance to her chambers felt insurmountable. She stumbled, relying on the walls to steady herself, until she finally reached her room and shut the door behind her.

As the door clicked shut, she sank to the floor, a hot sigh escaping her lips.

“Hah…”

Her entire body burned. A strange sensation tingled at the tips of her fingers and toes, almost as if they were asleep. Her insides felt restless, her skin prickling as if tiny tremors ran beneath the surface. Her head was hazy, and her thoughts blurred together. It felt as though her body was reacting to some unseen force—as if she had spent hours in the Duke’s embrace.

Why is this happening…?

Though she hadn’t had much time to spend with him recently, it was absurd to think her body would react this way simply because of his absence. Yet, as she sat there, curled up, a thought struck her like lightning.

No, it couldn’t be.

Though rare, Lamias were known to have a certain period—a time when their bodies entered a heightened state. It wasn’t widely discussed, as it only added fuel to the discrimination they faced, but once a Lamia found a partner and formed a deep emotional bond, this… instinctual cycle would emerge. A sort of… heat. A distinct phase of heightened fertility.

This can’t be happening now.

Yuraine muttered softly to herself, but the facts aligned all too well. Her recent busyness, the Duke’s departure, her own loneliness—all of it seemed to contribute to this state.

A deep sigh escaped her lips. What am I supposed to do?

Her head buzzed, every sense feeling simultaneously heightened and dulled. It was as if she were submerged in water, assaulted by deafening music.

Outside, the sound of hurried footsteps approached, something was left at her door, and the steps retreated again. Yuraine turned her head with difficulty, dragging herself to the door and cracking it open just enough to reach the bottles of medicine left for her.

Click. The sound of the door shutting was deafening to her ears, and she prayed no one had seen her in this state through the small gap. Locking the door, she spilled the fever medicine into her palm and stumbled to her bed.

If she could just bring the fever down, maybe she could think clearly again.

Yuraine, overcome with fever and exhaustion, retreated to her bed, clutching items belonging to Isis that were scattered throughout the room. The scent of him, deeply embedded in the linens, offered her a faint sense of solace amidst her growing physical and emotional turmoil. Her body, reacting uncontrollably to a mysterious heat, left her restless, yearning for his presence and the comfort he provided.

As the fever clouded her mind, her thoughts wavered between the frustration of her current state and her longing for Isis. Despite her attempts to calm herself, the intensity of her sensations grew, leaving her feeling vulnerable and overwhelmed. She struggled to find relief, but nothing seemed to quell the storm inside her.

At the height of her anguish, a familiar voice called her name. Disbelieving at first, she dismissed it as a hallucination until a gentle hand caressed her cheek. Startled, she opened her eyes to find Isis before her, his voice soft and reassuring. His presence, like a balm, began to ease her turmoil as he leaned down to kiss her cheek, whispering soothing words.

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