Black-Haired, Red-Eyed Northern Grand Duke, Please Develop Some Suspicion in Life! That's the Cliché!
The heavy sigh echoed through the bedchamber.
At the edge of the massive bed, Gareth von Arteta sat with his upper body bare, face buried in both hands. The same Northern Grand Duke who had once crushed an invader’s windpipe with his bare fist now looked impossibly small, shoulders trembling with defeat. The powerful muscles of his broad back quivered faintly under the weight of humiliation.
“Y-Your Grace…”
Rebecca’s voice shook as she sat on the crumpled sheets behind him. She had chosen her most cherished silk nightgown for this first night after his return—soft, luxurious, designed to tempt. Beneath the gentle glow of candlelight, her figure was breathtakingly beautiful, elegant enough to steal any man’s breath. Yet her fingers twisted together anxiously in her lap.
She crawled forward on her knees and gently placed a hand on her husband’s wide back.
“I-It’s all right, Your Grace. You were tense for so long at the banquet… and after being away for so long, you were simply happy and drank too much. You’re exhausted, that’s all. Please don’t worry about it.”
She tried to sound bright, forcing cheer into her voice as she desperately attempted to soothe her husband’s shattered pride.
“Rebecca…”
But Gareth could not lift his rigidly lowered face, even at her comfort.
“You know it. I know it. This isn’t because of fatigue. This isn’t the first or second time.”
“Your Grace…”
“It has been a year. After finally holding the wife I love in my arms for the first time in a year… my body refuses to obey me.”
His fist clenched with a sharp crack. The cause was unknown. After Veronica’s birth, Gareth had fallen into an inexplicable psychological condition—impotence. He had secretly summoned the most renowned physicians from the capital and consumed countless rare southern elixirs said to restore vitality. Yet on the battlefield his blood boiled with ferocious energy, while in bed with the wife he cherished, his body became nothing more than cold, unresponsive scrap iron.
For a man, for a husband, there could be no greater shame.
Gareth von Arteta rose abruptly, roughly stroking his own thigh.
“I am sorry, my lady. Truly… I have no face left to show you. I will wash this sweat away. Lie down and rest first.”
Unable to meet her eyes, the Grand Duke fled toward the private bathroom attached to the bedchamber. His shoulders slumped as though carrying the weight of the entire North.
With a click, the bathroom door shut. The sound of rushing water broke the heavy silence of the room.
“……”
Left alone on the vast bed, Rebecca stared blankly at the empty space where her husband had been. Slowly, she reached out and clutched the hem of her silk gown in a white-knuckled grip.
It’s my fault…
A single tear finally slipped from her clear eyes.
Her husband always blamed himself, but inside, Rebecca was burning black with guilt. She was convinced the fault lay in her own faded charm after the passage of years.
I… I am no longer attractive to His Grace as a woman.
Otherwise, how could such a virile man be unable to embrace her? The Grand Duchy still had no son. Though they had Veronica—a daughter so precious they would not trade her for the world—a male heir was essential in noble society to secure the family line. To deter those who coveted the Grand Duke’s seat, a healthy son was desperately needed. Rebecca herself wanted to give Veronica a beautiful, reliable little brother.
Yet from the day Veronica was born until today, for several long years, the couple had not once shared a proper night together.
Rebecca leaned against the headboard and drew her knees to her chest.
“Hic…”
The sob she had been holding back finally burst free.
The memory of her accidental encounter with Bale the night before flashed through her mind. The thin, water-soaked clothes clinging transparently to her body. The utterly shameful, provocative situation. At that moment, Rebecca had instinctively checked Bale’s reaction.
But instead of blushing, he had averted his gaze to the ceiling as if looking at a wooden log and fled. He had even given the absurd excuse that the towel was exceptionally fluffy.
The misery she had felt then merged with her husband’s rejection now, stabbing her heart like a knife.
Even the vigorous Sir Bale looked at my body and felt nothing but disgust…
She did not want to admit that her life as a woman was over.
“Hic… Your Grace, I’m sorry… It’s because I’m lacking, because I’m so worthless…”
Rebecca buried her face in the blanket and swallowed her tears in silence.
From early morning, the main hall on the first floor of the Arteta Grand Duchy Mansion was bustling with activity.
“Hurry! Have all of His Grace’s belongings been loaded?”
“Check the carriage wheels again!”
The shouts of servants and knights echoed off the high ceilings as they rushed back and forth.
Standing on the stairs looking down at the chaotic scene, I frowned deeply. The refreshed feeling I had woken up with after a good night’s sleep on that soft bed vanished in an instant.
Gareth von Arteta had announced he would depart for the imperial capital immediately—today.
What the hell? He just got back yesterday and he’s leaving again right away?
He was the head of the family returning to his loved ones for the first time in a year. A hero who had led the bloody war at the Northern Wall to victory. Logically, he should at least spend a week—or even a few days—resting comfortably with his family and recovering from exhaustion. Wasn’t that common sense?
I carefully approached the head butler, who was directing the servants with sharp eyes from the center of the hall.
“Excuse me, Head Butler. May I have a word?”
“Ah, Sir Bale. Good morning. I trust you slept comfortably?”
“Yes, very comfortably. However…”
I glanced around and lowered my voice.
“Isn’t His Grace pushing his schedule too tightly? No one would complain if he rested here for a few days before leaving.”
At my question, the butler paused his busy hands and let out a small sigh. A look of worldly fatigue from noble society crossed his wrinkled, experienced face.
“I understand your concern, Sir Bale, but this is a political matter. Relations with the imperial family are truly exhausting.”
“The imperial family?”
“Consider it. An entire year. The elite forces of the North fought without rest for a full year and achieved victory. It would not be an exaggeration to say the current morale and prestige of the Northern army is at its highest since the founding of the empire.”
The butler stepped closer and lowered his voice even further.
“Think from the imperial family’s perspective. If the Grand Duke—who commands such a formidable army—finishes the war but remains in the North instead of immediately reporting his victory to His Majesty, those suspicious nobles in the capital will surely spread ridiculous rumors that he might march those troops straight to the capital.”
“Ah…”
“To completely eliminate any suspicion of rebellion, His Grace must swallow his exhaustion and rush to the capital first to bow his head before the Emperor. It is truly regrettable.”
After the butler’s realistic explanation, I could only close my mouth.
Ah, so His Grace has his own insanely busy and shitty life too.
In romance fantasy novels, the Northern Grand Duke was usually a cliché character who slaughtered people as he pleased and radiated intimidation even before the Emperor. But the real Gareth von Arteta had no such luxury. To avoid the Emperor’s suspicion, he had to leave his wife and child behind after only one year and cram his exhausted body back into a carriage. He was basically an overly diligent, pitiful middle manager.
But that sympathy lasted only a moment.
Wait. The capital? The capital?!
The mastermind who had tried to assassinate Gareth. The root of all evil in the original story—the man who would take the Grand Duke’s life and push Veronica into the abyss of corruption. Where was that younger brother, the uncle, right now?
He’s in the damn capital!
I had blocked the first assassination attempt at the wall with my own body. There was no way the uncle would stay quiet after hearing of its failure. He would be even more venomous now. And the assassination target was about to walk straight into the capital on his own two feet?
This was practically setting the table for a second assassination attempt and politely handing over the spoon.
No way! If the Grand Duke dies, my sweet life as a freeloader, Madam, and Veronica—everything ends!
I grew desperate. I could not let the Grand Duke go to the capital alone. I had to follow him somehow and use every bit of knowledge from the original story to protect his life.
“Head Butler! I must go to the capital as well!”
“Pardon? You, Sir Bale?”
“Ah, well, I have never been to the capital before! This country bumpkin would like to take this opportunity to follow His Grace, see the sights, and also stand guard at his side…”
I frantically tried to come up with a plausible excuse, saliva flying as I babbled.
“Are you worried, little brother?”
A gentle voice suddenly spoke from behind me. It was a bit cringeworthy coming from a man, though.
Startled, I turned around to find Gareth von Arteta already fully prepared for departure. His cloak fluttered dramatically, and his face was filled with deep affection directed at me.
“Y-Your Grace! That’s not what I—”
“Haha, there is no need to hide it. You are the benefactor who personally saved my life, Bale. It is only natural that you would still feel anxious and worried about me traveling to the capital alone.”
The Grand Duke reached out with his large hand and patted my shoulder. His red eyes shimmered with thick emotion. It was honestly gross.
“Indeed, it is not unreasonable for you to think that way. After all, the assassin who targeted my back that day at the wall was a knight dispatched from the capital. To your eyes, the capital must seem like a den of danger.”
“……!!”
You knew? You knew the assassin was from the capital and you’re still going?
“That is correct, Your Grace! Therefore I absolutely must accompany—”
I tried to shout urgently, but Gareth cut me off with a soft smile.
“But do not worry, little brother.”
“Yes?”
“The capital is where my own flesh and blood—my most trustworthy younger brother in the world—stands firm. As long as he is there, no one will dare touch me recklessly.”
“……”
I stared at the Grand Duke with my mouth hanging open dumbly. He wore an extremely pleased and proud expression as he thought of his most trustworthy younger brother.
…You fucking pushover idiot!!!
I screamed internally. That trustworthy brother of yours is the one who sent the knife after your back!! Trustworthy my ass—that bastard is the mastermind!
My head ached at how terrible the Grand Duke’s intelligence network was.
This guy is sharp but somehow completely blind!
The uncle had probably layered request after request through subcontractors, mercenary guilds, and shadowy organizations, laundering the commission like dirty money. No matter how good the North’s information network was, they had only traced it as far as “a knight from the capital.”
Shit… But I can’t just say it here…
I could not shout that the assassination’s mastermind was his own brother. I had no evidence, and a commoner who had rolled in from nowhere suddenly accusing the Grand Duke’s blood relative would get my head chopped off first.
Sigh. He treats even a complete stranger like me with such gullible kindness, giving away his liver and gallbladder. How much worse must it be for his own brother?
I clenched my fist tightly.
If you’re a Northern Grand Duke with black hair and red eyes, please develop some suspicion in life! Why are you such a golden retriever who trusts people so transparently and acts like a total pushover?
Regardless of how my insides were burning, Gareth spread both arms wide toward me.
“Thank you truly for worrying about me this much, little brother. I swear I will return safely, so you should stay here at the mansion and rest comfortably with my wife.”
He pulled me into a crushing hug.
“Ugh…”
The Grand Duke squeezed me so hard I thought my bones would break, pressing the air out of my lungs. His thick forearms stroking my back felt incredibly gross, but there was no way I could escape the overwhelming strength of the Northern Grand Duke.
I stood there stiffly in his embrace, my soul half-departed.
Please… let me go…
And then.
“……”
Beyond the Grand Duke’s shoulder, I felt a sharp gaze piercing me from the wide staircase leading from the second floor to the first. I glanced sideways toward the source.
“…Hmph.”
There stood a small young lady gripping the railing, clutching her favorite white stuffed rabbit tightly to her chest. It was Veronica. She must have swallowed her shyness upon hearing her father was leaving for the capital and come down to see him off.
But she had just witnessed her father—who had returned after a year—completely ignoring his own daughter and sharing a heartfelt embrace and tender gaze with the freeloader uncle he had peeled shrimp for at last night’s banquet.
“…Hng.”
Veronica’s small, plump lips protruded dramatically. Her violet eyes burned with resentment and jealousy even thicker than yesterday.
The child stopped her steps toward her father, then stomped her feet loudly on purpose as she turned and marched back up the stairs.
“Ah, My Lady…!”
Veronica! Please don’t go! Stop your dad! I don’t want to be hugged either!!
My desperate telepathy failed to reach the little lady’s retreating back.