Chapter 73: Strange Impulses (2)

A refreshing breeze rushed past Gris as if to cheer her up and encourage her. The soothing air calmed her and lessened her compulsion to flee from Vianut, but another gust gathered her silver hair and caused it to flutter near his face.

Gris finally realized that she had been sitting closer to him than she thought. She chewed her lower lip nervously. Fortunately, the wind did not blow in the opposite direction. If a sudden gust somehow suddenly swept his large body closer to her, she feared she might blush—highly peculiar behavior for a sister.

His jet-black bangs swayed with the wind and tickled her cheek this time. Of course, Vianut kept his focus in front of him and sat immobile like a marble statue.

Their proximity allowed Gris to study the finer details of his handsome face. His profile was absolutely beautiful. Her eyes traced the contours of his face, the slender curve of his nose, and his high, defined cheeks. Truly, the duke would have been the ideal subject for any portrait.

Vianut’s blue eyes dropped to the ground before they locked with Gris’. Her gaze followed where his had been and settled on the front of his black slacks.

She noticed the groin of his pants seemed abnormally large. A sudden realization dawned on her behind the meaning of the bulge, and for a moment, her breathing stopped. Even though the tautness of his lower half betrayed his inner desires, Vianut continued to stare straight ahead with a detached expression.

Gris’ rationale crumbled and dispersed like dust in the wind. In the midst of her shock, Vianut casually stood up and subtly moved to shield his front with his cloak.

“We’ve been out here for some time, but I believe we will have to cut our session short,” he muttered. “It just occurred to me that there is an issue I must attend to. I will have to leave you now.”

The skin where Gris’ hair had tickled his earlobes was hot and red.

“Is it a serious problem?” Adele asked with concern, though her voice was tinged with sadness.

Vianut paused and stood in front of the unfinished canvas before answering.

“There’s some work I still need to do.”

The Grand Duke frowned as if his mind and body were in turmoil. Neither Gris nor anyone was able to approach him as he paced up and down, waiting for Adele to hurriedly wrap up her final brushstrokes and hand him the painting. He then returned to the mansion.

Gris had a sneaking suspicion that she knew full well what kind of problem required his sudden attention.

The problem regarding his simultaneous hatred and hunger for his fake sister, endangering the pure body that he had kept for his future wife…

♛

Duke Vianut returned his study and sat at his desk. As usual, he had to review the many correspondences that arrived at the Byrenhag mansion each day, but he was unable to bring himself to reply to any at the moment. His mind was preoccupied with the image of the fake Yuliana sitting upon the garden bench, her silver hair glimmering under the noon sun.

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Since the moment he had first laid eyes on her, he was particularly attracted to her peculiar, melancholic beauty. Her delicate yet radiant disposition reminded him of morning dewdrops glistening on a thin, red flower. He knew he was not the only man who felt the urge to caress her skin.

However, he had encountered beautiful women many times before. Far too many had crossed his path countless times, but never had any caused his mind and body to grow so heated.

So far, there had only ever been one person who managed to move Duke Vianut’s stoic heart. When he was twelve, he had met a girl who made him feel for the first time what it meant to yearn deeply for someone—his childhood fiancée.

Vianut had wished to live with that girl for the rest of his life. Yet, as fate would have it, the girl returned to him as a corpse. Each day since then, the duke suffered from her loss.

All he could do was swear in front of her lifeless body. As it was written in the lyrics of the Benedict Family’s lullaby, he vowed, “Even though you can’t hear me, you will be in my arms forever.”

Years passed in a blur, but he kept his promise. Soon he had turned twenty-three years old, and the memory of his dead fiancée was still deeply engraved in his heart.

Then one day, Stephan appeared with a fake Yuliana in tow. At the time, Vianut had thought that this imposter’s appearance and mannerisms were eerily similar to his dead fiancée’s.

Since then, she began encroaching on regions of his mind that should have been long ignored. Thoughts of this fraudulent Yuliana’s tone, her melodic voice as she sang, and her adoration for nature accumulated in his head. What started as a fleeting curiosity grew stronger day by day. Before long, he wanted to feel and possess her, to have her fill the longing and the void left by his late fiancée.

Vianut furrowed his forehead and suddenly let out a rush of air from his nostrils.

He laughed bitterly. The feeling of being a puppet in Stephan’s hand was disgusting.

He should have known. It was too convenient: the abrupt appearance of a beautiful, poor, gray-haired woman who so closely resembled his dead fiancée to replace his lost sister.

Stephan’s intentions were obvious. He had just selected a person who was easy to manipulate and discard. If possible, he would have made her seduce him. That’s probably why Maria persisted in the mansion, pretending to be so pitiful.

Though no matter how hard he reasoned his own feelings, Vianut couldn’t figure out why he continued to let her live. He had even nonsensically purchased her valuable ruby earrings and pierced her ears himself. Even though he knew that he would be condemned by the king and the bishops, and jeopardize his status by breaking off his engagement, he still wanted more of her.

Vianut languidly undid the inner button of his thick, fur cloak. The outline of his torso, taut with muscles, was clearly evident through the thin fabric of his shirt. His physique was due to a disciplined regiment of planned meals and extreme exercise. Since he had no vices, it was easy for him to maintain this body.

But his strict lifestyle meant that his body had never indulged in the experience of pleasure. Perhaps this lack was what caused him to be intoxicated by her presence and crave the touch of her bare skin.

Vianut simply wanted to live a contented life. If only the temptation lingering in his head would just disappear already, he could carry on with the duties required of him.

He told himself that these distracting feelings would pass in time.

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