I Stole The Duke - Chapter 71

June 19th, Imperial Year 321.

The day before the hunting tournament had arrived.

“She’s not coming today either? Is she really planning to ignore every one of those invitations? Hah… Is she at least eating properly?”

His wife, who lived under the same roof, was just fifty meters away—close enough to glimpse, yet completely out of reach.

This marked the fourth day Michalis hadn’t spoken to her. Hadn’t touched her.

He was restless. His whole body itched with frustration, and work had become impossible. He was nearly at his breaking point.

“What if she can’t sleep because I’m not beside her…?”

But the one losing sleep was Michalis.

“Hahahaha!”

As always, laughter filtered in through the windows of his study.

“Those bastards…”

But there was nothing he could do about it.

He had given a clear order: Eliana was not to leave the estate. The knights had followed it to the letter. Not once had she stepped outside the walls.

In that sense, they were doing an excellent job.

“……”

At some point, Michalis found himself standing by the window, quietly peering down into the garden.

“When did they get so close…?”

Eliana, who had once looked so uneasy around anyone besides Joel, was now mingling comfortably with the other Blue Knights.

“It’s Madam’s turn now.”

“Ah, I can’t! I forfeit.”

Staring hard at the unsteady tower of wooden blocks, Eliana shook her head in refusal.

“……”

Where they’d even gotten such a thing, he had no idea—but they were in the middle of a table game.

And he’d been left out. Again.

They looked like they were having so much fun.

“Hmph! Prepare to witness a level of delicacy unlike any other!”

Sir Cedric—who looked like he didn’t have an ounce of delicacy in his entire body—lifted his index finger dramatically.

Srrrrk. Thunk.

Despite several missing blocks, the precarious structure somehow held.

“Waaah!”

Eliana clapped her hands with delight, her smile beaming.

“At last, it’s my turn. Let me speak on behalf of House Speaker—we have never once lost in a game. Travel back with me, fifty years, to the time when my grandfather won the Fifth Imperial Palace Dart Tournament… and so on, and so forth.”

Sir Speaker, as usual, began babbling nonsense, eating up time with useless stories as he raised his hand to move.

Srrrrk. Thunk.

The tower wobbled precariously, but miraculously, didn’t fall.

“They’ve entered the realm of the divine…”

Eliana, watching the Blue Knights’ Jenga prowess, was growing weary. These men were monsters—able to manipulate their finger muscles with terrifying precision.

“Sir Eastar, are you trying to grind the blocks into powder? Withdraw your aura from your fingers.”

“Ah, I apologize. I must’ve been too focused.”

Thud! Crash.

Sir Eastar’s move proved fatal. The Jenga tower collapsed completely.

“Aaah!”

“What a shame.”

“Hahaha!”

“Sir Eastar, perhaps you should return to training.”

“Training?! That move… even the god of Jenga couldn’t have saved it!”

They were all nobles, and with their average age being thirty-six, there was no actual punishment—but their pride-fueled competition was fierce.

“God… It’s so childish, I can’t bear to watch.”

Michalis, who had been watching intently until the tower fell, dropped back into his chair with a sigh.

“Is that really fun…?”

Watching them play every single day, always leaving him out, made his blood boil. He even considered storming in and flipping the table over.

But… seeing her from afar was still better than not seeing her at all.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

His fingers drummed impatiently on the desk.

“Does Liana not even miss me…?”

Though his eyes were scanning the documents, the letters were nothing more than black dots. Not a single word registered.

“Was I really that cruel to her?”

Anxiety. Nervousness.

“Well… I did get pretty angry.”

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Even the soles of his feet were jittering now, unable to stay still.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The steady knock broke what little concentration Michalis had managed to cling to.

“Your Grace, it’s me.”

It was the butler.

“What is it?”

“Madam says she’ll be taking dinner alone again tonight.”

Having spent days on edge, watching Michalis’ icy demeanor, even the butler’s voice was shaky with tension.

Crash.

That was it.

With those words, Michalis’ patience reached its limit—and shattered completely.

“The tournament is tomorrow… What should I do?”

In truth, Eliana was beginning to feel anxious too.

She’d been working in her own way to make amends, but whatever had upset him, it had him completely frozen.

For four days, Michalis hadn’t made a move.

“If he’s still angry today… then I guess I’ll have to use this.”

Pacing around the bedroom, Eliana glanced down at the blue diamond ring on her finger.

“Move.”

Just then, Michalis’ voice rang out from behind the door.

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“Ah—he’s here!”

Already tucked in and ready for bed, Eliana quickly pulled the covers over herself.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

As expected, the knock came almost immediately.

“……”

Eliana said nothing, opting to pretend to be asleep instead.

Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock.

The knocking grew more urgent and rapid.

“……”

“Your Grace, Madam said she’s tired and will be going to bed early tonight.”

Day six of her confinement. Today’s guard was once again Sir Cedric.

‘Good. Well done.’

Eliana couldn’t quite hear the conversation outside, but from the sound of it, Sir Cedric was playing his role flawlessly. A small smile tugged at her lips beneath the blanket she had pulled over herself.

“What?”

Michalis, who had rushed over to see Eliana, was visibly flustered.

‘It’s only six o’clock…’

He hadn’t come all this way just to turn back empty-handed.

“Eliana, it’s me. I’m coming in.”

Finally losing patience, Michalis opened the door and stepped into the bedroom.

Rustle.

The moment the door shut, Eliana lifted the blanket as if she’d just awoken.

“Had you already fallen asleep?”

“Ah… I was just a little tired.”

“You’re not feeling unwell, are you?”

Michalis sat down on the edge of the bed and placed a hand on her forehead.

“I’m fine,” Eliana replied, leaning back against the headboard and meeting his eyes.

‘Has he calmed down?’

The warmth in his fingertips felt gentle and soothing. The cold air that had surrounded him these past days had vanished—he no longer felt distant.

It seemed Michalis was finally ready to accept a resolution.

[Operation 7: Offer a Sincere Apology.]

“Michalis, I know I was wrong. I understand why you were so upset.”

“……”

His hand, which had been softly brushing her forehead, froze mid-motion.

“Thank you… for worrying about me. And I’m sorry I couldn’t explain everything the way you deserved.”

“I… suppose there must’ve been circumstances.”

“Are you trying to understand?”

“I can’t say I accept it all completely—but I’ll try.”

“Michalis, you’re not angry anymore, right?”

“I’ve already let it go.”

He had lost. Michalis admitted it—he was no match for his wife.

[Mission: Make the Duke Forgive You — Complete.]

After six long days, the cold war between the duke and duchess had come to an end.

“But… what’s with your nightgown?”

Eliana was wearing something unusually alluring—so much so that Michalis wasn’t sure such a garment even existed in her wardrobe.

“The bottom part is even prettier.”

She teasingly pulled back the blanket that had been covering her waist—then swiftly yanked it back into place.

“Wh-!”

Michalis’ eyes widened in shock, and like a spring-loaded puppy, he jolted upright—only to immediately force himself down with both hands.

‘Was that… a butterfly?’

Heat surged to his face.

“W-What is that?! I-I mean… Cough! I—!”

He felt like he had just been pulled into an entirely new dimension.

“If you return the magic card, I’ll let you see more. Though… I guess that’s not happening, is it?”

“How can you negotiate using that?!”

Michalis snapped back to his senses. She had only just apologized—and now she was making demands. His wife truly kept him on his toes.

“Michalis, are you getting mad again?”

“That’s not it.”

“Your face is red.”

“It’s not from anger.”

It was the lingering image of that black lace—still fluttering in his mind.

“I didn’t realize you hated things like this. I won’t do it again. Goodnight.”

‘Goodnight…?’

Negotiations had failed. That was her way of telling him to leave.

“I’m tired, so I’m going to sleep now.”

With that, Eliana turned away and pulled the blanket all the way over her head.

A clear sign: Get out.

“……”

“Then… rest well.”

Michalis’ legs resisted as he turned to leave. They creaked with every step.

Click.

The bedroom door closed behind him with cold finality.

‘Did he really just… leave?’

The moment the door shut, Eliana peeked her head out from under the blanket.

‘Ugh… Operation failed.’

Her face flushed bright red as the embarrassment kicked in.

‘Come on! How could he just leave like that? What am I supposed to do now?’

She thought that kind of approach would work on him. But the duke was proving to be far more formidable than she had expected.

‘Stubborn as a log. No—brick. No—concrete.’

Her resentment only lasted a moment. Soon, a wave of sheer mortification came crashing down on her.

‘Maybe I should’ve just gone with the bunny outfit.’

Maybe… the sexy concept didn’t suit her after all.

Creak. Creak. Creak.

Michalis’ reluctant steps dragged him to the bathroom before finally halting in front of the door.

Splash. Splash. Splash.

Without hesitation, he stripped off his clothes and dumped cold water over his head, bucket after bucket.

‘I need to snap out of it.’

After dousing himself ten times over, he began to feel a little clearer.

‘I must not give her the magic card back.’

Eliana was unpredictable. If he handed it over, she might sneak into the count’s estate again—or worse.

‘This is driving me insane.’

Just as he felt himself calming, that black butterfly reappeared in his mind. And with it, the image of the little “puppy” trying to rise again. Michalis felt like he was going to explode.

Scrub. Scrub. Scrub.

He attacked his scalp with fury, suds building into a mountain as he roughly shampooed his hair.

‘Damn it…’

He hoped that, along with the soap, he could wash away the insanity from his mind.

Splash. Splash. Splash.

‘If I surrender now, she’ll just pull the same stunt every time something like this happens.’

His hands froze mid-pour.

‘You idiot!’

In a flash, he imagined multiple scenarios in vivid detail.

Splash. Splash. Splash.

Eventually, all the cold water prepared in the bathroom had run out.

Michalis stared into the mirror, now gripping a razor.

Swipe. Swipe.

Focusing on shaving helped quiet the chaos in his mind.

“Hm…”

Lifting his chin slightly, he examined his reflection with quiet satisfaction. Not a trace of stubble remained.

‘At least this won’t sting Eliana if she kisses me to—wait, you idiot!’

Snap!

The razor blade broke clean off.