Damnable Impulses
A tiresome impulsiveness.
Curtis knew all too well that whenever he got involved with this woman, he behaved in a way that was starkly different from his usual self. An impulse, sweeping in from some unknown origin, kept driving him, pulling him to his feet, and leading him down unfamiliar paths. As for resisting it—Curtis simply didn't know how. How on earth was he supposed to resist something he was experiencing for the very first time?
That was the nature of experience. It was something that could only be acquired by living through it, letting time run its course. He was an excellent commander, but he hadn't started out that way. That, too, had been forged through experience. Thus, he instinctively knew that if he fled now, he would never learn how to resist.
So, I might as well get used to it. If I simply immerse myself in this foreign sensation, surely it will eventually feel natural... or will it?
Whether it was the scent that suddenly drifted over him or something else, Curtis lost his train of thought like an idiot. Chloe was babbling about something in his arms, but her words barely registered. Feigning composure to answer her was proving to be an immense struggle.
Every time she shifted in his embrace, her scent wafted up. It was a familiar fragrance. Naturally so, given that she lived in his estate. Curtis felt as though he could guess exactly what soap she had used this morning, what she had washed her hands with, and even what toner she had patted onto her cheeks.
Damn it.
A dry laugh escaped him in sheer disbelief. When he had vaguely planned this political marriage, there were a few horrors he had anticipated. Setting aside his greedy half-brother, the mere concept of someone invading his personal space was one of them. Having to share his space with a woman he barely knew, and occasionally having to touch her just for public show.
He had loathed the idea of someone who previously hadn't influenced his life in the slightest smelling just like him, and he dreaded the inevitable disruption of those moments when he simply wanted to be left alone in the dark. Even though none of it had actually happened yet, just imagining it had made him feel suffocated.
But why was the reality so different?
It was the same even when he shifted her in his arms. He had lifted her up as if he were a knight protecting a young maiden, only to fall into despair. What kind of knight in the world feels this way about the child he's carrying...?
He ought to find himself repulsive. That was common sense. Yet, strangely, a smile kept tugging at his lips, as if guided by some external will. Was it because he found her amusing for daring to address him so casually as "Brigadier General," or was she simply ridiculous?
He was just glad no one was looking at him right now, demanding to know what on earth was wrong with him. If they had, Curtis would have undoubtedly...
"Your Highness. I am terribly sorry, but if you keep squirming like that, it makes things rather difficult for me."
In the end, the man resorted to mimicking the very scoundrels he despised. Packaging a rogue's nature as the typical lighthearted banter of a military locker room was something he utterly loathed. Yet, seeing himself now, he realized he was just another one of those rogues. Since he couldn't bring himself to lie and deny it, he was at least trying to dress it up.
On the other hand, Curtis did not hide the parts where he needed to be honest.
"No matter what you think, I have no intention of throwing you to my brother like prey. If it ever comes to that, I'd rather flee to Glintland, just as you suggested."
"..."
"Do you understand?"
Like my mother did...
Around then, he felt he finally understood, if only vaguely, why he was acting this way. He simply didn't want to be the worst kind of human being. There was no way his dim-witted aide knew about his mother just because she now bore the name of Berk. It was likely a mere coincidence, but he must have hated seeing her overlap with his mother's shadow. It was pathetic. Taking his frustration out on her.
And as for him behaving like a beast in the midst of it all... well, looking back, it wasn't entirely incomprehensible. He had learned from his mother, and later re-learned on the battlefield, that reproduction was shockingly close to violence. So be it.
Furthermore, he was still wearing his gloves. Though he was pressed flush against Chloe, not a single inch of their bare skin actually touched. He wondered if he was finally becoming a little more normal.
"I am simply delighted that the Brigadier General seems to have finally understood my point."
"..."
Whether she knew what was going on in Curtis's mind or not, Chloe spoke with an air of mock superiority from his arms. Thanks to that, his tension evaporated instantly. Naturally, a chuckle escaped him.
"So, what do we do now? They're still watching."
It tickled him. Surprisingly, at that very moment, Curtis was thinking the exact same thing as Chloe. He was glad she couldn't see his face. He must look incredibly foolish, unable to suppress the grin spreading across his features. If things were going to be this way, he would actually be grateful if the Finance Vice-Ministers saw his besotted expression and reported to the King that the Grand Duke had truly lost his mind.
Right after that, the man suddenly wanted to see Chloe's face. He was curious to see what kind of expression the woman who had turned him into an idiot was wearing.
Startled by his sudden movement, she tensed her arms before relaxing them again. Her pink eyes shimmered. ...Ah. The man quickly painted over all the thoughts blooming in his mind with pitch black.
"What shall we do, Your Highness? Would it satisfy you if a lowly, insignificant Brigadier General knelt before you under the pretext of a duty inspection?"
"...In the Finance Department garden?"
"Indeed. It would be the perfect way to spread rumors that Brigadier General Berk has gone utterly mad for his new Grand Duchess."
"I think you really have gone mad..."
She grumbled. Curtis offered a bright smile.
"They say people invite suspicion when they change too drastically."
"I take it Marshal Victor's teachings left quite an impression on you?"
"In that spirit, shall we hold hands after all?"
"Ugh, absolutely not!"
She recoiled and protested, but it was futile. With a radiant smile, Curtis declared loudly, "Everyone already knows we are husband and wife, so is there any need to be this shy?" and boldly strode forward.
Chloe tried to wrench her hand free, but the man's grip was so strong that she was practically dragged along. The palace servants stole glances at the passing pair.
"You know how it is. I'd rather die than hold someone else's hand."
It was a lie.
"You're wearing gloves!"
By this point, Chloe was desperate, completely unconcerned with whether others were listening.
"Your Grace, you are a married man now! Shouldn't you maintain some dignity?!"
"Well, when I am with the master of my soul, the opinions of the world are utterly worthless."
Chloe, her face burning red, was dragged for over a hundred meters with her hand firmly clasped in Curtis's. The onlookers watched her with expressions of either utter shock or deep pity.
"...!"
Chloe finally changed her tactics. Grabbing Curtis's hand properly, she began to march forward with long, purposeful strides. As she suddenly took the lead and dragged him along, the man chuckled wickedly from behind.
"So you share my sentiments after all. I am absolutely delighted."
"I've decided to sprint to the Guard headquarters by the shortest route, so do not speak to me."
Since both of them were tall and Chloe's stride was exceptionally wide as she forged ahead, they reached the Guard headquarters in no time. However, the sight of the rumored Grand Duke and Grand Duchess—with the Grand Duke being dragged along like a helpless man entirely at his wife's mercy, and the normally expressionless or mocking Grand Duke laughing heartily as he willingly let himself be led—was far too bizarre. It was inevitable that they drew the eyes of everyone in the royal castle.
Perhaps because the storm had passed, her first day back at work after the wedding was surprisingly manageable. Second Lieutenant Noel, who had been tackling the mountain of paperwork all by himself, welcomed her with the brightest face she had ever seen. The work itself was business as usual—a continuous stream of endless, incredibly tedious tasks.
Completely forgetting her summons by the Grand Marshal, Chloe buried herself in the sea of documents until it was time to leave.
Normally, this would have led to overtime, but the Grand Duke stood up, muttering, "The one who told me not to make her work overtime was the Warrant Officer herself," and dragged her out by the scruff of her neck.
The place they returned to after work was, of course, not the small house on Le Martin Street, but the Berk Ducal Residence. The foreign feeling was slowly fading. Following the Grand Duke, who handed his jacket to the butler, Chloe handed hers to Julia and headed straight to the dining room.
After enjoying a delicious meal as usual, she buried herself in the household affairs of the ducal residence until it was suddenly midnight. Lying in the bed Julia had prepared for her, Chloe thought:
Wait, aside from the fact that I'm sleeping in a different house, has anything actually changed...?
Even if the public attention was unavoidable, her daily life didn't feel all that different. Sharing a bed with her crazy boss had ended after their wedding night, hadn't it? Furthermore, despite the scene he had caused in the Finance Department garden, Curtis hadn't made any other moves. They ate dinner as soon as they got home, and then retired to their respective rooms without any incident.
"A lowly, insignificant Brigadier General shall take his leave now that the night has grown deep."
He had thrown a pointed, sarcastic remark as they parted, but she could easily laugh that off.
Because of this, she couldn't help but think, If things keep going like this, this marriage might actually be quite manageable...?
Of course, that was too much to hope for.
The King, for one, was not about to sit idle. The next morning, he sent his third dismissal request.
Even before heading to work, Curtis Shan Berk rejected the third dismissal request sitting on his office desk without a moment's hesitation.
"What a waste of paper."
Subject: Dismissal of Warrant Officer Chloe Amboise
Sender: His Majesty, the King of Ivanes
Stamping it with a bold **REJECTED**, he handed it back to the waiting attendant, who let out a heavy sigh.
"Could you please have some mercy on my plight, Your Grace?"
"Paper is expensive. If he's going to keep doing this, tell him to just summon me."
As the attendant turned away, having gained nothing for his troubles, Chloe saw it clearly: tears welling in his eyes. She began to wonder if the rulers of Ivanes had some genetic predisposition for driving their subordinates to utter despair.
In any case, instead of sending a fourth dismissal request, the King naturally summoned Curtis.
"He really summoned me just because I told him to. At this rate, one might wonder who is actually the king here."
At the Grand Duke's sarcastic remark, the poor administrative officers nearby instinctively covered their ears and shrieked, "Aaaah! I can't hear anything! Nothing at all!"
Leaving behind the officers who were desperately begging the attendant, "Please pretend you didn't hear that! We beg of you!", Curtis Shan Berk slowly made his way toward the audience chamber.