The Duke's Indispensable Ally
Honestly, she'd come here half in doubt, never expecting the Bayern Duke to actually be waiting.
Even more astonishing, just a few words from him had confirmed they shared the same impossible situation.
After being shown to her guest quarters by his adjutant, evening fell.
Ibel sat at the same table with Victor, this time as a guest.
"I assumed that if I returned, you might have as well. Otherwise, I'd have made other plans—but I needed you."
"Why me?"
"Because you have to be trustworthy."
The duke, clad only in a white shirt as he poured the wine, looked unfamiliarly sensual.
The shirt draped naturally along his firm shoulders, loosely tucked at the waist, sleeves roughly rolled up.
Stripped of his usual crisp, commanding demeanor, he seemed far more at ease.
Did the duke have this side to him? It felt strangely novel, but Ibel didn't let it show.
She still had no idea how to process all the memories from the battlefield.
"Couldn't someone else have returned besides us?"
"True enough. But if so, they would have come straight to me. No one's reached out, which means for now, it's just us two."
"Ah."
Of course. That made sense.
Among the others—excluding her—there were those of high enough status to contact the duke directly.
Even if they couldn't write him personally, they could go through Lucas or Heinrich... There were plenty of ways to get word to him.
"Memories might return gradually over time, so we'll wait and see. But the final twelve who held out till the end? I plan to bring them all to the estate."
"Understood."
Just as those last twelve had been special to her, they must be to him as well.
Still... it would be nice if at least one more remembered.
Wishing wouldn't make it so.
Better for that person if they didn't remember, anyway.
"Once I'd grasped the situation, you're the first one I sought out..."
Victor Bayern was never one to rush.
He always paused before speaking.
Knowing this, she waited patiently without pressing.
"I've mentioned my nephews before. I need someone who can properly look after them. Someone who won't breathe a word of what they've seen or heard to anyone."
Veins stood out sharply on the back of his hand as he set down the bottle.
Gazing at his hand slowly turning the glass—as if mulling over an old worry—Ibel swallowed dryly and feigned nonchalance as she asked,
"Are they ill?"
"You could say that. Mind or body."
A self-mocking smile flitted across his unrealistically handsome face, then faded.
Soon, those deep blue eyes met hers squarely.
"I want to live differently this time."
"Yes."
"I want your help."
"...Yes."
A request, not an order—it felt profoundly unfamiliar.
The right to refuse? What a luxurious freedom.
Bedrooms shall be separate before the marriage ceremony but shared after the official wedding. A marital bedroom will be provided, along with separate private bedrooms for individual use...
"This is the contract—give it a thorough look. If you agree, just stamp it. If not, I'll buy you a house anywhere you like. You've earned that much."
Ibel silently stared at the document extended to her.
It contained quite detailed terms.
"Though we've met like this, we'll frame it as love at first sight."
He stated it matter-of-factly, but Ibel nearly spat out her wine.
Love at first sight?
With Victor Bayern?
"...So, a contract marriage, but one that looks like a love match?"
"Exactly. You'll have to play the high noblewoman too. At minimum, observe the proprieties. Here."
Ibel decided not to probe deeper.
She needed money anyway—and she couldn't let her twin brother get his hands on it.
I could just take the house, but then Abel might track me down. If I join the duke's household, he can't blackmail me there.
Sharp as he was, he might connect her disappearance to the Bayern Ducal Residence.
But that was it.
What else could he do?
With secure funds, I could go abroad, do research, keep practicing medicine.
In some countries, women doctors weren't so unusual, from what she'd heard.
Time and money to prepare for exile. Escape from her suffocating family.
All of it was terribly tempting to her right now.
Secure control over family internals and perform the actual duties of Duchess...
As her fingers skimmed the paper, she realized there was no mention of heirs.
"I don't have to bear children?"
Too blunt, perhaps.
Blinking at the duke's pause, she felt relief at his reply.
"No need for heirs. I'll pass it to one of my nephews."
"Good. I don't want kids anyway."
"No need to actually love me. Just pretend. You seem like you'd be good at acting."
"I've been acting like a man, after all."
The duke nodded silently in affirmation. Ibel drew a short breath.
"When did you know I was a woman?"
"From the start."
"...Pardon?"
Had she misheard?
She'd thought she'd hidden it well.
He arched a brow at her blank stare.
"I can't fathom how I wouldn't notice."
"...Sharp eyes. Did the others know too?"
"Half and half. Your build's different."
A hit to her pride.
She'd cut her hair short, chosen oversized clothes on purpose.
Grumbling inwardly, she turned back to the document.
"One condition."
"Name it."
"My twin brother knows who I am. Send him somewhere he 'can't come back from.'"
"Anything else?"
She hadn't expected that to fly, but it did.
The duke inclined his head, as if granting nearly everything she wanted.
"Hm... Then, when the contract ends, arrange a ship. Somewhere safe abroad. Preferably no war."
"Easy enough."
They shared memories of the future.
Which nations started wars, which stayed peaceful—they knew.
The difference between them? She lacked the money and power to change it.
But my own life... this will definitely change that.
As long as her leech of a family didn't track her down.
"One more. Keep my face out of the papers."
"Handled."
Just as she began to relax, thinking it was all settled—
"Now that the contract's set, how about we drop the formalities?"
"...Pardon?"
"This isn't the battlefield. I'm not your superior anymore. Calling each other by name would look more natural for a couple."
She was momentarily speechless. It wasn't wrong, but the thought of daring to... rose first.
They were marrying, yes—but from her view, the duke was still an impossibly lofty superior.
"We'll ease into it during the betrothal. I'll start."
"Ah, Your Grace..."
"If it's hard for you to be casual, mutual formality might look better, no?"
Her heart sank as if she'd committed some faux pas.
His address had shifted from "you" to "thou"—not for a subordinate, but an equal, or a lady.
"...Understood."
"Then allow me to escort you to your chambers."