The Eve
"This place..."
The rain that had been pouring down had stopped, and in the early morning the distinctive scent of wet earth hung in the air. Perzen settled her into the carriage and set off somewhere in silence. When she stepped down at the end of the ride, an old-fashioned dress shop bearing the name Azelia came into view.
From the entrance, the dresses fitted onto the mannequins were beautiful enough to draw an involuntary sigh, and once she stepped inside, bolts of cloth that looked ruinously expensive were arranged in neat rows by kind. Even Euphemia, who had been shut away in nothing but the remote frontier of Ruerug, had long since heard of the fame and skill of the tailors attached to Azelia.
"The clothes they already have would be more than enough..."
"......"
She tried again, carefully tugging at the hem of the clothes of the man standing beside her, but no answer came. At that, Euphemia smiled bitterly and lowered her head. If he wanted to play at dressing a doll, then a doll like her had no choice but to go along quietly.
"Oh my... Brutein—no, you're the Count of Luerg now, aren't you?"
"It's been a while, Madame."
"What brings you here?"
"What other reason could there be to stop by Azelia? I'd like to consult with you a little about a dress for my wife."
"Then shall I have the lady step inside to be measured? The consultation proper can come after..."
"You may consult with me."
"Hmm..."
At Perzen's words, the Madame of Azelia looked from one of them to the other and caught the strange current running between them. A moment later she smiled brightly, entrusted Euphemia to one of her staff, and sat down at the table with Perzen.
"Is there a theme you have in mind?"
"I have two requests. The first is a dress that shows her to her best advantage without tipping into excess, and the second..."
She listened carefully as Perzen's instructions went on at length.
Hm?
The Madame of Azelia noticed the contradiction buried in them.
The two of them are already married...
Why, then, was he commissioning a wedding dress? It puzzled her, but she let none of it show. With a hospitable smile she attended to Perzen with every courtesy. Azelia was not a place that collected other people's secrets.
The short outing that had begun at dawn came to an end, and Euphemia, returned to the mansion, sat in the bedroom with both hands resting on her drawn-up knees and her chin propped upon them.
"......"
Already three months of meaningless days, repeating. Even her attendance at the Imperial Academy had been put off, so if she were asked to name the single most meaningful act in a day's routine, Euphemia had no choice she could make besides sleep. The funny part was that it no longer even hurt. She felt only numb. Learned helplessness, in the most literal sense. Eating, bathing, sleeping, and now and then spreading her legs only to receive his seed—the repetition of that life was slowly settling into place as the milestone by which she measured living.
The door burst open.
"......"
Perzen had at last been pronounced fully healed by the physician who attended the mansion, and the casts on both arms had come off without incident. A creak followed as he worked the muscles that had gone stiff from disuse; then he came to her side and drew her into his arms as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Even this embrace, which had always been nothing but frightening and uncomfortable, now offered her nothing but warmth and ease.
"Ah..."
That characteristically large hand of his glided softly down over her breast and along her side, came to rest on her lower belly, and tapped it—once, twice. So much had happened across the three months in which she had been learning helplessness that Euphemia could read the signal without Perzen putting it into words. Even so, this was the one thing she simply could not grow used to. Catching her own skirt and drawing it up to just beneath her breasts, baring the underwear she wore and half her body so nakedly, was still shameful. Still humiliating. If Perzen did it himself, she could at least console herself that she had no choice. Having to do it with her own hands only threw her obedience into relief, and every time it filled her with self-loathing.
Don't men usually... fixate on breasts?
The thought rose unbidden, and Euphemia shook her head as she caught the hem and lifted it. If he had fixated on her breasts rather than her lower belly, she was certain he would have seized the nipples that lifted of their own accord and toyed with them without end. That, she thought, would have been even worse—
"Aah—!"
The thought snapped off. Euphemia let out a moan of pain and pitifully nuzzled her face against Perzen's chest. Both her hands were occupied with the skirt, so in the moment this was the best coaxing she could manage.
"When, I wonder, will you be able to bear my child."
"Ah, it hurts..."
As if taking his temper out on her, Perzen pressed again and again just above her womb, and Euphemia spoke through gathering tears. Even if they lay together during her fertile days, the chance was generally no more than twenty percent. Even when neither husband nor wife had anything wrong with them, it took six months on average. There were cases of conceiving on the wedding night, but an exception was only an exception, and the ordinary figures said otherwise. Perzen, though, had been steadily feeding Euphemia foods meant to aid conception, and through that span he had finished inside her not once or twice but several times—and still this was the result. Irritation shot through with anxiety welled up in him.
Euphemia was the novel's main heroine, so there was no real chance she was barren. But if it was Perzen, the villain? Rather than suddenly wrenching the genre into NTR, they might well have hammered in a setting like that as a last safety catch of their own.
"M-maybe... th-there's something wrong with you..."
Pregnancy was not a thing that happened so simply, and yet he was taking the stress of it out on her. Holding tears like dew, Euphemia said it to him.
"......"
Perzen's brow furrowed on reflex. It was an uneasy possibility he was already turning over, and for her to drag it out of her mouth so fearlessly—was she begging for a beating, or was her nerve simply that large?
"Ah..."
She had not wanted the pregnancy, and when he laid the whole of the blame on her alone, the words had spilled out of a sense of injustice. As the air grew cold as a sheet of ice, Euphemia took fright ahead of any blow. Her whole body trembled, and she scrambled to take back what she had said.
"N-no... I-I'm sorry..."
"......"
"It's my fault... for failing to take your seed... and carry it..."
"......"
She abased herself as wretchedly and pitifully as she could, but Perzen only kept his silence. At that, Euphemia reached out a shaking hand, caught his arm herself, and pressed it hard against her own belly, again and again.
"Ah! Hnn...!"
Better to step forward of her own accord than to wait and earn a harsher punishment.
"...That's enough."
He had grown thoroughly displeased, and yet when Euphemia went this far on her own, Perzen felt that displeasure dissolve clean away. If a dog, given the situation, carried out the command of its own accord without the master having to speak it—was this the pleasure the master felt? He brushed away the tears gathered at the corners of her eyes, withdrew his hand, and drew her skirt neatly back down to her knees.
"I must have been greedy. Time will settle it in any case. If we simply keep at it as we have, that ought to be enough."
Perzen bent his head and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of her eye. Euphemia gathered both hands lightly at her chest and, wanting to hold on to the gentleness he was offering for even a little longer, nodded slowly as she answered.
"I-I'll... t-try too..."
"Ha..."
Perzen let out a short, hollow breath and curled the corner of his mouth.
"Saying things you don't mean."
"I-I really do..."
"Then shall we lie together even when it isn't your fertile time."
"......"
"There. You see."
Looking down at Euphemia, who had gone silent, Perzen caught her earlobe lightly between his teeth.
"Nnh...!"
"Haven't I told you, again and again. Your acting and your lies are clumsy. Bear that in mind the next time you speak."
"Ah, hnn..."
The teasing, dressed up as discipline, went on in a strangely heated way.
Knock, knock.
Before long a knock sounded from outside. Perzen lifted his head and gave the maids leave to enter.
"E-excuse us..."
Eyes fixed on the floor, the maids stepped in with care. They remembered the moment Euphemia had been scolded with her own skirt lifted in her hands, and if it was the same this time, they meant to spare her even a little of the shame. Fortunately, that scene was not repeating itself.
"Here... what you asked for..."
"Set it down and go."
At the short, indifferent word, the maids lowered a silver tray onto the small chest of drawers beside the bed. The door closed behind them. Once they were gone, Perzen lifted a rather familiar dessert from the tray and held it before Euphemia's eyes.
"Do you know what it is?"
"I d-don't..."
Held in his arms, Euphemia had been avoiding the maids' eyes. At the question she stole a glance at the dessert and shook her head.
"They call it Ryube."
Because of Lee Seojin's memories, it was a name that refused to sit easily on Perzen's tongue either, but Ryube was, in any case, this world's yogurt—and one that had lately begun to catch on as a fashion in the capital.
"Have a taste."
"......"
Perzen himself scooped up a spoonful and brought it to her lips, and Euphemia accepted it with visible reluctance.
"M-mm..."
Strawberry juice had been stirred in, and a sweetness mingled with sugar spread all through her mouth. She swallowed, and without meaning to she smacked her lips like someone who had found an oasis in a desert. Sugar, as an ingredient, was from the start a luxury hard to come by in frontier Ruerug. Seeing that reaction, Perzen set his stilled hand moving again and fed her his own share of Ryube as well.
"Ah..."
A moment later his hand stopped, and the spoon was left sitting alone in the neatly emptied cup. A faint regret touched Euphemia. Then she realized she had eaten Perzen's portion down to the last of it, and shame warmed her face.
"Was it good?"
"Mm..."
The answer came in a voice small enough to vanish.
"S-sorry..."
"There's nothing to apologize for. I'm not especially fond of sweets."
As if it truly did not matter, Perzen caught her chin and gently licked away the Ryube at the corner of her mouth with his tongue.
"This is enough for me. More than that, I'm surprised you ate so well. I'll buy it for you from time to time."
"......"
At those words Euphemia wanted to pretend she was unmoved, but in the end she gave a faint nod. The motion was almost no motion at all, yet Perzen caught the yes in it clearly enough.