The Duke's Trembling Touch
Vivian’s steps toward the study were as precarious as walking across shifting sand. The sight of my wet torso at dinner and the thick, intimate conversation with Evelyn and the others had completely scrambled her mind. She kept thinking that none of this could possibly be real as she frantically rummaged through the back of the wardrobe.
“There should be one of Father’s shirts in here. Just a moment…”
While Vivian desperately dug through the clothes, a soft thud sounded behind her as something fell to the floor. She instinctively knew what it meant, but she hunched her shoulders and kept her eyes fixed stubbornly on the wardrobe, pretending not to notice. If she turned around now, the last fragile thread of reason in her head would snap.
But the moment she found the shirt and turned, Vivian froze solid.
The slave trader’s bare back was exposed without shame. She had seen the family knights sweating on the training grounds countless times, yet this was nothing like those sights. The deep valleys of muscle carved along his spine and the rough scars slashing across them struck her eyes with a far more raw, visceral stimulation than any polished statue ever could.
Vivian clutched the silk shirt in her hand so tightly her knuckles turned white. In the silence where even the sound of swallowing seemed deafening, she approached me as if in a trance.
“…May I… touch it? Just once?”
It was a shocking proposal she would never have voiced in her lifetime without the hazy influence of wine. What was happening now could never have occurred with a sober Vivian.
I silently nodded, granting permission in place of words.
Vivian’s pale fingertips brushed against my back. At first, she was so afraid of the scorching heat of my skin that she could only timidly poke at the edge of a scar with her index finger. But the firm texture traveling through her fingers and the subtle flex of muscle pushed her deeper into an unbearable thirst. What began with a single finger soon became two, then three, until all five fingers spread wide and slowly traced the lines of my muscles. Finally unable to resist, she pressed her entire palm against me. The leathery yet vividly pulsing beat spread from her palm throughout her whole body.
At that moment, I slowly turned to face her directly.
“Ah…!”
Vivian snatched her hand away as if electrocuted. The pressure was incomparably stronger than when she had secretly stolen glances from behind. Confronted with the solid chest muscles filling her vision, the deep hollow of my collarbone, and the piercing gaze of the slave trader, Vivian bowed her head in shame so intense she felt she might burn alive.
I leaned close to her ear and let my voice sink low.
“Would you like to touch the front as well?”
Vivian’s thoughts short-circuited for a moment. She reached out again as if possessed, aiming for my chest, but then she froze and hastily thrust the silk shirt toward me. Some primal warning screamed that taking one more step would make it impossible to turn back.
“No… this is… enough.”
With trembling hands she handed over the shirt, barely managing to force the words out in a shaky voice. “Thank you… for indulging my unreasonable request.”
Vivian’s ears, with her head hung low, burned hotter and redder than the color of the chair back in the study.
When I took the silk shirt and began to put it on while picking up the wet clothes from the floor, Vivian startled violently and blocked my hand.
“Th-that… please leave it. I’ll have the servants of our house wash it, so you can retrieve it the next time you visit.”
There was a strange stubbornness in Vivian’s voice as she insistently tried to take the clothes from my hand. Up close, her breathing was ragged from the heat of moments before. Especially captivating were her eyes, hazy and unfocused with a mixture of shyness and bewilderment—eyes seductive enough to enchant not only the men of the Arzen family but every man alive. Her flushed cheeks and slightly parted lips proved that the emotion she felt was not merely the influence of alcohol.
I gazed down at Vivian’s expression in silence. Victor—the man who had nearly assassinated her family and brought the house to the brink of ruin. Could the woman who had lost every family member except her younger brother truly offer such pure goodwill to me without any malice?
I tried to detect any falsehood in her eyes and trembling touch, but Vivian’s demeanor was far too transparent. Yet perfect trust is poison. I intuitively sensed no malice in her actions, but at the same time I could not completely rule out the possibility that all of this was an elaborately staged performance.
I gathered my thoughts, took a step back, and bowed to her with the courtesy due to a duchess.
“I am grateful for Your Grace’s consideration. Then I shall retrieve the clothes on another occasion.”
Vivian’s shoulders twitched. The heated tension from before had slammed into a wall of cold formality once more. She bit her lip in clear regret but forced herself to smile like a proper duchess.
Vivian and I returned to the dinner table. Evelyn and Elina seemed to notice something subtly different about her, but Evelyn gave her no chance to ask questions.
“We have received far more hospitality than we deserve today. It seems time to take our leave.”
With that simple farewell, the meal came to an end. Until the very moment of parting, Vivian could not meet my eyes properly. The vivid, burning sensation of my muscles that still lingered on her palm relentlessly reminded her that what had happened in the study was no dream.
The moment the carriage door closed and the wheels began to roll, the air inside the narrow space instantly thickened with sticky curiosity. Evelyn leaned toward me as if she could no longer hold back. A blatantly wicked smile already played on her lips.
“So, how far did things go with Her Grace in that short time? The study door stayed closed for quite a while, and we heard nothing from you.”
Evelyn’s fingers slowly traced her own chin as she sent me a sultry look. Her voice contained not a single drop of consideration—only a tone deliberately crafted to stimulate the imagination of secret moments between a man and a woman.
Elina, seated beside her, kept her face turned toward the window, maintaining an air of disinterest. But her rigidly straight neck and tightly clenched fists revealed her true state. Her nerves were stretched to the breaking point, poised to catch every single word that might leave my mouth.
Whether aware of the tense standoff or not, Lua remained perfectly at peace.
“Mmm…”
Lua, who had claimed a spot on Evelyn’s lap, stretched as if the subtle atmosphere had nothing to do with her. Then, apparently dissatisfied with her resting place, she busily scratched at Evelyn’s silk skirt with her front paws. The scratching sound of claws catching on fabric echoed inside the carriage. Evelyn burst into a laugh mixed with irritation and lightly swatted Lua’s rear.
“Look at this one. Lua, you can’t interrupt at a time like this. This is the important part.”
Even as she soothed Lua, Evelyn’s gaze remained stubbornly fixed on me. Elina’s breathing hitched almost imperceptibly. Caught between the two women’s differing pressures, the carriage swayed through the early night air as the sun dipped halfway below the horizon.
“What kind of slave interferes so rudely in her master’s private affairs? It seems you’ve forgotten your place, Evelyn.”
Any ordinary person would have lowered their head beneath that atmosphere, but Evelyn only curled her red lips in clear delight. She gently stroked Lua’s head and whispered in an even thicker, more seductive tone.
“My, Master. Is the night still not deep enough for you to speak openly? Or was it something too embarrassing to say with those lips of yours?”
Evelyn pretended to watch my reaction, but her eyes were locked on Elina, who sat as stiff as a stone statue beside her. After confirming that Elina’s fist on her knee had clenched so tightly it turned white, Evelyn drove the wedge deeper.
“Very well. It was a story I wanted to keep just for myself, but since you’re so shy, I’ll wait until we’re alone next time. And then… you’ll have to tell me every last detail, won’t you?”
Her words made the atmosphere inside the carriage even more peculiar. Elina, who had been staring out the window, flinched. A flicker of unmistakable displeasure crossed her brow for the briefest instant. Evelyn savored Elina’s reaction with eyes full of victory, while Lua simply rested her chin on the folds of Evelyn’s skirt as if the perfect spot had finally been arranged, then lazily closed her eyes.
Elina’s silence was no longer mere indifference—it had become dangerously taut, as if it might explode at any second.
When the carriage wheels stopped and we arrived at the mansion, an unfamiliar carriage bearing an ornate crest stood in the center of the garden, casting long shadows beneath the torchlight. Silvia, who had been waiting at the entrance, approached and bowed respectfully.
“Welcome back, Master. You have a visitor.”
Her gaze rested on a man dressed in fine silks—the slave trader from the other continent who had sold Evelyn to me. He was pacing anxiously. The moment he spotted me, he rushed over barefoot in a flurry of excitement.
“Ohh, Lord Victor! I wanted to see you one more time before I left!”
He approached as if ready to seize my hand, but the instant he saw Evelyn stepping down behind me, he froze. The merchant’s eyes bulged as if they might pop out. He stumbled backward in pure shock.
“H-how is this possible…! A snake— Is she really a vampire? How did you awaken her? What about the vampire? Does she have any new racial traits?”
The merchant, overwhelmed with excitement, was about to launch into a torrent of questions when Evelyn’s eyes flashed crimson. She adjusted her hold on Lua and took one step toward him.
“I thought that smell was familiar… So it was you.”
The blatant killing intent radiating from Evelyn pressed down on the air. The merchant’s jaw trembled violently as he collapsed to the ground. Evelyn looked down at him and murmured softly.
“Tell me. Where exactly did you find me?”
In that hair-trigger moment, I stepped in front of Evelyn and cut her off coldly.
“That’s enough. Evelyn, if you are a slave, behave like one.”
The red glow in Evelyn’s eyes faded in an instant. She stared at me for a moment, then gracefully lowered her head as if conceding.
“…If that is your will, Master.”
Without sparing the seated merchant even a glance, I turned my steps toward the reception room.
“We’ll talk inside.”
Evelyn followed behind me with a perfectly calm demeanor, as if the murderous aura had never existed. The terrified merchant finally managed to draw a shaky breath and staggered to his feet.