Euphemia's Tedious Routine
Euphemia el Lerenne Ruerg's daily routine as Professor Ferzen's wife was boredom incarnate. Not that it was surprising—after all, she knew no one in the capital, and even if she wanted to enjoy something, the money wasn't hers; it was Ferzen's.
So her mornings consisted of waking up, being attended to in the bath by the maids, eating breakfast, then reading a book or strolling the mansion's garden as her best form of amusement. Come evening, when Ferzen returned from work, the maids would lead her to a bath scented with perfume, wash her meticulously, and tuck her into the bedroom. It was only her second day in the capital, but she already had the ominous feeling that this hamster wheel would spin on forever.
'And the clothes... why this...'
Under a thin robe, Euphemia wore a sheer white negligee that revealed everything underneath. She pulled the blanket up over herself. She'd protested mildly, saying she didn't want to wear it, but the middle-aged maids had dismissed her opinion without mercy.
"……"
Maybe she should try solving those problems again. She'd stopped after the second one because her head hurt, but he'd promised to grant one wish if she solved them...
'If I ask for a small shop...'
She didn't even know what she wanted to do or what she should do anymore—she'd lost all sense of personal purpose. Still, saving up a little money bit by bit might help someday. He was so extravagant with spending that opening a single shop in the capital would be trivial for him.
Click.
Euphemia flinched. It was 6 p.m. He'd returned from work to the mansion, finished his bath, and entered the room in comfortable attire. But today was different—he carried a bottle of wine and a glass.
"It's not cold. Why are you buried under the blankets like that?"
"Are you asking because you don't know?"
"Then would I ask if I did?"
"……"
Euphemia cracked her eyes open lazily and slowly lowered the blanket.
"You didn't order this outfit...?"
"Ah..."
From Ferzen's reaction, Euphemia realized it had been his instruction. He'd simply forgotten.
"Shameless..."
"It suits you well. It's just for my eyes anyway, so what's there to be embarrassed about? You've shown me far more already."
"You're unexpectedly lecherous..."
"If I were truly lecherous, I'd have left you naked without a scrap on and told you to spread your legs right now."
In truth, Ferzen had ordered the maids to dress her that way precisely to gradually erode her psychological resistance and chip away at her self-esteem.
"……"
"Care for a drink?"
Euphemia shook her head silently at Ferzen's words as he sat in the chair by the small table and set down his glass.
"Not a single cute thing about you as a wife."
"Unbelievable..."
"If you're not going to humor me, fine."
Ferzen poured wine into his glass, gazed out the window, and drank quietly.
"Sleep first if you're tired."
"I'll do what I want..."
Truth be told, Euphemia wanted to join him, but it was only 6 p.m. No way she'd fall asleep now. So she got out of bed, picked up a book, and forced herself to read words that wouldn't sink in. Maybe her tired eyes would eventually urge her to sleep. And so Euphemia passed the time turning pages with a soft rustle, while Ferzen savored his wine under the moonlight.
'Drink slower...'
He was emptying and refilling his glass awfully fast. He didn't even seem like much of a drinker. If he got drunk and took it out on her, that would be trouble. Of course, recalling his drinking habits from the north...
'They're bad...'
She'd fallen asleep clutching her chest hard on the bed, but she'd tried to console herself that it was relatively tame. Then the vivid memory of him hurling the baron's vase and shattering it resurfaced, forcing her to revise that thought.
Moreover, for some reason, he seemed particularly irritated today. Like it or not, they'd spent over a month together, so she could pick up on these things.
'Did something bad happen?'
He was the second son of the Brutein family, but she'd heard the academy's professors were all from prominent noble houses. Maybe some group had ganged up on him with annoying barbs—not personally, but collectively. Still, she couldn't imagine him getting frustrated and drinking over something so trivial. If anything, he'd probably scoff and dismiss them as fools putting on a show in a pack.
'I don't know... Why should I care about this?'
Shaking her head, Euphemia returned her gaze to the book. Some time passed. The wine bottle emptied, and Euphemia's eyes began to grow heavy as she read.
"Euphemia."
Ferzen called her in a slurred voice.
"What..."
Euphemia, who had been about to lie comfortably on the bed, turned her head slightly to look at him. His red eyes were as serene as ever.
But that serenity felt like the calm before a storm. Like thunderclouds that hadn't yet unleashed rain.
"Come here."
"……"
So Euphemia couldn't bring herself to refuse. She rose quietly from the bed and approached him cautiously. Ferzen scanned her up and down, appraising the sheer white negligee that revealed her underwear, as if inspecting merchandise.
"Pervert... I can hear your eyes rolling from here."
Grumbling a veiled warning to act less obviously, Euphemia subtly covered her chest with both hands and pressed her thighs together.
"Euphemia. Hands away. Stand straight."
"No..."
She wanted to protest that she hadn't done anything wrong, so why? But when her eyes met Ferzen's, she sighed heavily and did as he wished.
"Good girl."
"Your praise... is so cheap. Worthless."
"Hand."
"……"
Was he planning to treat her like a dog tonight? It wasn't a hard request, so Euphemia placed her left hand atop his outstretched left.
"Wh-what..."
But Ferzen's brow furrowed instantly.
"Hand."
Was he the one turning into a dog after drinking? Did her hand look like a foot or something?
"……"
Euphemia briefly pondered if she needed to solemnly place her foot instead, but withdrew her left and laid her right atop his.
"Good girl."
His utterly cheap praise came flying out again.
"Really... what a weird drunk you are."
Suppressing a disbelieving laugh, Euphemia grumbled at him.
"Euphemia."
"What... Do I need to put my foot on now?"
Ferzen shook his head, patted his knee a couple times without a word, and just looked at her.
"Don't pretend you don't understand."
"……"
As she stalled, Ferzen urged her on. Euphemia glanced down at her outfit once, then sat on his lap with a face near resignation.
"Face me."
"A little...!"
Facing him meant spreading her legs, which would push up the short negligee's hem.
"If you're trying to tease, save it for the bed."
"Who's teasing...!"
She thought it was bizarre drunkenness and wanted to slap his cheek to snap him out of it... but he'd probably slap hers right back without mercy. With that learned from experience, Euphemia bit her lip, gripped his shoulders with both hands, and hesitantly straddled his lap facing him.
"Good girl."
"Shut... up..."
The negligee's hem had ridden up, exposing her pale thighs. The exquisite embroidery on her black panties pressed against his thigh, sending unwanted sensations with every shift.
"I mean it."
"……"
"Good girl."
His face was right in front of her nose, so she could smell the thick wine on his breath. How strong must it have been? Even the faint aroma made her head spin.
Smooth.
"……"
Without another word, Ferzen pulled Euphemia into an embrace and stroked her back. How much relief did he feel seeing her obey so docilely? The fact that one variable was firmly under control—that alone, trivial as it was, brought Ferzen immense comfort and joy.
In moments like this, she wondered if it would have been better if Ferzen's ego had completely devoured Lee Seojin's without a trace. At least then, Ferzen wouldn't be stressed by surrounding variables and would have sneered at Roer's fangs.
Of course, the end result waiting then...
No need to say it, but he would have lived and died entirely on his own terms, without a single stress.
It was a meaningless what-if now. Ferzen, transformed by the mingling of Lee Seojin's ego, at least didn't want to die.
"Euphemia."
"……"
"Just like today. That's all."
Tightening his embrace, Ferzen buried his face in her nape and murmured. Euphemia felt a profound disconnect from the fragile version of him she'd never seen before. But attributing it to the alcohol, she said nothing, relaxing her body into his touch.
"Let's sleep..."
Time had slipped to 8:55 p.m. Ferzen gently lifted Euphemia, carried her to the bed, laid her down, and covered them both with the blanket.
"Not keeping distance tonight...?"
"You'll pull me close by morning anyway."
Whether she did or not, it was all the same deceit, so Euphemia had given up. And even that resignation satisfied Ferzen.
"Right. Good night..."
She didn't reply to his good night. It was a tiny act of defiance—one he probably wouldn't notice. After all, good night my ass; was there any more uncomfortable sleeping position in the world? She shot him a sidelong glare with wide eyes, but...
Ferzen had already fallen into a deep, even sleep—unfairly so.
"……"
Ferzen had drifted off last night with wine, but the need to go to work drilled into his mind woke him far too early. A glance at the clock: 5:40 a.m.
'I can sleep more...'
More than that, he could sleep soundly. Black magic theory was only once a week anyway. Of course, that didn't mean skipping work today.
The professors teaching commoners and those teaching nobles' children alternated dormitory duty weekly. Today was Ferzen's turn, along with some nameless professor.
The imperial knights guarded the dorms anyway, so what was the point? But it was laced with political intent.
If an external attack caused casualties in the academy, it would tarnish the imperial family's authority behind the push. But with professors on duty, they could share the blame with those families. Even if it was the professor's negligence, if someone bit hard enough, they could question if the professor colluded with the attackers.
Inefficient as hell, but politically sound.
'Anyway...'
Yesterday at lunch, the administrative assistant assigned to the department office had asked with exhausted eyes if they could talk. He'd refused, but hearing the reason...
He'd have stopped by briefly even without the schedule. Just later, in the afternoon.
Ferzen buried his face in the crook of Euphemia's neck and closed his eyes again.
It smelled good.
So very good.
Fragrant.