I Stole The Duke - Chapter 140

“Ugh?!”

By the time Iadis came to his senses… three whole hours had passed.

“Lady Evelyn… could you please remove your hand from inside my shirt?”

“Ah… yes.”

The moment he looked down at Evelyn, sitting on his lap, Iadis wanted to rip out his own hair.

You’ve really lost it, Iadis Concerto. Completely lost it.

Her lips—this wasn’t something that could be fixed with a cold compress.

“I’m a wretched man. Please, slap me!”

It was supposed to be just three minutes. But under the influence of sheer lust, he’d turned into a starving wild bear for three hours straight.

“Why? I liked it…”

Evelyn, unaware of her current state, tilted her head curiously.

“Please… look in the mirror.”

“KYAAAH!”

The moment she caught her reflection in the console mirror, Evelyn screamed.

“Ah… we should apply ice. Immediately.”

“R-Right.”

Iadis soaked a fresh towel in the half-melted ice bucket.

“Fortunately, the swelling’s gone down a little. I’ll escort you back to the ballroom.”

“Yes…”

It took them another thirty minutes before they finally left the lounge.

I should ask her to officially date me before we part ways. If we’re together, I can kiss her whenever we meet… and then the next step… Dammit! Shut up! Stop thinking like that! How did I turn into this trashy person?!

Carrying Evelyn in his arms, Iadis descended the stairs—riddled with internal torment.

“Lady Evelyn, may I ask for the honor of using your name?”

“Of course.”

“Evelyn, starting today, I’d like us to date seriously—with the future in mind—”

“Eve! Do you have any idea how long I’ve been looking for you?! How could you vanish without a word?!”

As soon as they reached the ballroom floor, Iadis was cut off—by the absolute last person he wanted to run into.

“Brother…”

“You must be the Viscount Concerto. My sister twisted her ankle, did she? I hope you administered proper first aid, and—”

“She… injured her lips too, apparently?!”

“……”

Iadis fell silent mid-briefing. There was simply no excuse. The evidence of their three-hour kiss was far too obvious. He had tried to suppress the swelling with ice, but it wasn’t nearly enough.

“You damned southern bastard!”

The marquess’s expression twisted into a snarl as he looked at his sister’s face. Pale and refined like a northern nobleman, sure—but his actions screamed Southern libertine.

“……”

Normally, Iadis would’ve objected immediately to such a prejudiced statement. He could give an hour-long lecture on the dangers of regional discrimination to the empire’s stability. But today—

The bear who’s eaten honey must stay silent.

“Damn it, go practice your free-love ideals with other Southerners! Why do you have to mess with innocent girls from elsewhere?!”

“……”

Iadis had no room to argue. He was guilty, and he knew it. No words could excuse this.

“Ugh! Damn it!”

The marquess looked down at Evelyn’s face and cursed again. Her upper and lower lips looked like they’d been plowed like farmland. There was no way those marks had come from anything but intense kissing.

“Don’t tell me…!”

He clutched his forehead, veins throbbing.

She’d been gone for four hours. He didn’t need to be told what had happened. Especially since they came from that direction—the lounge.

“Tell me the truth! Did you go all the way?!”

“Absolutely not. I swear it.”

For the first time, Iadis pushed back.

“That is a complete misunderstanding.”

“Then explain! What exactly did you do?!”

“…Please believe me. I didn’t… I didn’t touch her below the neck—”

But as he said it, his voice grew quieter.

Wait… he had touched her back. Damn. Also… her thighs, just a little. But still! Absolutely—positively—they had not gone all the way.

“Is that supposed to make it better?! Who the hell are you, really?!”

The marquess’s voice rose, drawing the attention of others in the ballroom. Curious glances began to gather.

“I am…”

“Where have you been, Sir Iadis?”

As if things weren’t bad enough, the last person Iadis wanted to run into had just appeared.

“Your Grace…”

At the sight of Duke Michalis Ascher, even the furious Marquess Rancelloti’s temper cooled in an instant—while Iadis turned completely pale.

“D-Duke Ascher…?”

Anyone who had spent this year’s social season in Wespa would recognize that face.

“That would be me.”

“I’m Elio Rancelloti, heir to the marquisate. It’s an honor to meet you.”

Duke Ascher was no ordinary noble. His influence had recently spread even into the Western provinces—so much so that even the Emperor treaded carefully. He was someone worth building ties with, at any cost.

“A pleasure.”

Michalis greeted the young marquess with a composed handshake.

“Sir Iadis. Did you cause an incident?”

There was no need for lengthy explanations. The signs were obvious: no cravat, a few shirt buttons missing, faint scratches peeking through the open collar… and in his arms, a young lady with lips so swollen they were turning purple.

Sir Iadis…?

Now that name clicked. Elio Rancelloti finally realized the man responsible for jeopardizing his sister’s marriage prospects.

“…Yes, Your Grace. I did.”

There could be no lying. Iadis had indeed caused trouble, and the only honorable option was to own up to it.

“So? What do you intend to do?”

“What are you going to do about my sister?!”

The marquess immediately echoed the duke’s question, pouncing on it.

“…I will send an official proposal as soon as possible.”

And just like that, Iadis’s dream of a slow-burn, romantic love… had vanished in the span of a three-hour kiss.

“This matter is settled, then. I ask that you not rebuke my aide any further.”

Your Grace…

His liege had come to his rescue. Iadis felt genuinely moved by the unexpected show of support.

“…Understood, Duke Ascher.”

Though the young marquess felt slightly conflicted about Iadis as a brother-in-law, this unexpected bond with the powerful Ascher family could prove invaluable—especially now, as their household struggled to regain influence.

Just how valued must he be, for the Duke to step in personally?

Without further complaint, Elio backed down. Perhaps this “incident” would turn out to be a blessing in disguise.

“Sir Iadis. Return to your post. Leave the lady in her brother’s care and come find me at the previous location.”

“Yes, Your Grace!”

Michalis gave the order with just enough formality to preserve Iadis’s dignity before turning and walking away.

And here I thought he’d die single because he had no social instincts…

As Michalis climbed the stairs, his thoughts were surprisingly conflicted. Who would’ve guessed that Iadis would manage to find a bride after just five hours at a party? His predictions had been thoroughly overturned.

Was it really because of me…?

He began to wonder whether he might’ve had a hand in Iadis’s late bachelorhood.

“Evelyn… I’ll spend the rest of my life making up for what I did tonight.”

“Ah…”

Repay me? For what…?

Evelyn wasn’t sure what to say. She’d loved every minute of the last four hours. There was nothing to repay.

“Please forgive the chaos. I’ll be in touch soon.”

With gentle care, Iadis handed Evelyn over to her brother, then turned and followed after Michalis. There was still an unfinished mission to complete.

“…Eve. What the hell did that guy do to you?”

Elio stared after Iadis, his voice low and suspicious.

“Brother… it was a settling kiss.”

“A settling… what?”

“I don’t think I’ll ever enjoy kissing anyone else again.”

“…I don’t even know what to say to that.”

* * *

Meanwhile…

The Tower’s archaeological team achieved a monumental breakthrough during their ten-day expedition. They unearthed ten stone monuments—an extraordinary feat that could rewrite the history of magic.

“I believe this part refers to ‘Divine.’”

“Then this phrase could mean ‘Opportunity.’ That’s the logical conclusion.”

There was some debate about using teleportation to return immediately to the Tower, but once back, everyone would disperse into their own research. It would be nearly impossible to gather all twenty high-level mages again.

So instead, they boarded a leisurely frigate back to Port Flencia.

“Alright then—if we arrange the words like this…”

One of the mages added to a transcription on a long parchment spread across the table.

The results of having twenty top-tier magic scholars focused solely on ancient language deciphering were astounding. In just fifteen days, they had successfully translated two key words from the first monument.

“What kind of spell do you think this is?”

“Divine… something divine?”

“I believe the upper inscription describes the spell’s effect, and the lower text is the activation phrase.”

“Then it must be a Divine-type spell.”

Someone finally voiced what many had quietly suspected.

“Divine magic… That only appears in myth. If this is real, then it’s truly astonishing.”

“Considering the ancient age was when humans and gods supposedly mingled, it’s not impossible.”

“Look at the spell circle’s design—simple and elegant. The octagonal structure is stable, and it features both sun and stars. It has to be Light-aligned.”

“Then perhaps… Divine Light?”

“Ooh—Divine Light! That’s perfect!”

Excitement buzzed through the group. They were now hopeful that they might one day wield Sardis’s magic.

“Attention: We will be docking at Port Flencia shortly. Please begin checking for personal items you may have left behind.”

The ship’s first officer strode across the upper deck, voice echoing loudly.

“Finally, land?!”

Everyone was done with the swaying hammocks and bland rations. They were more than ready to step foot on solid ground again.

“Hahaha! I’ve missed the smell of my lab so much.”

“You mean that awful stink?”

“Please. You’re one to talk—your lab reeks of lonely bachelor.”

The mages bantered cheerfully as they packed up their notes and magical tools.

“Once we’re back at the Tower, what do you say we continue these ancient Sardis translations—maybe meet once a week?”

“Oh, I love that idea!”

“We’re nearly docked. Let’s head up to the deck.”

With their gear packed into dimensional pockets, the group moved to the outer deck. Every one of them was eager to leave the ship behind.

“Oh! Smell that breeze!”

Even the air had changed. The salt still hung in the wind, but now it carried traces of green forests and dry earth—land was close.

Caw! Caw!

A flock of white seagulls circled above, looking for scraps near the ship.

“Ahh! Seagull poop!”

“Hahaha! Looks like that bald head was too tempting.”

“Ugh… even seagull droppings smell fishy. Clear!”

Up ahead, the harbor came into view. Ships moored in the misty haze looked like ghostly mirages.

They were almost home.

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