Chapter Title: Prologue
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With the sheet pulled all the way over her head, Juliet held her breath and stared at the half-naked man.
The man, standing with his back to the bed, shrugged off his robe, revealing broad shoulders and firm back muscles bathed in the dawn light.
A perfectly balanced knight's physique without a single flaw. A lean waist reminiscent of a predatory beast, and the elegant profile revealed at an angle.
Scars large and small dotted his body, but even they seemed like part of a flawless work of art.
Juliet lost herself for a moment, gazing blankly at the man.
The man, now without his robe, personally slipped on a crisp white shirt.
It was a habit unbecoming of his noble duke's status, but the man who had spent half his life on the battlefield disliked having others attend to him and dressed himself.
Thus, the women he brought into his bedroom fell into just two categories: one-night lovers, or women of some use to him.
Juliet belonged to the latter.
*Maybe both.*
Thinking that, Juliet mocked herself.
At that moment, as she buried her face in the pillow in self-derision, her eyes met the man's red ones. The duke, who had been fastening his cufflinks, narrowed his eyes.
"Did I wake you?"
It was only natural for him to wonder.
After being tormented by him all night, Juliet was usually so exhausted the next day that she couldn't lift a finger. She wouldn't wake at dawn, let alone sleep until midday.
"....No, Your Highness."
Juliet swallowed a sigh and answered.
She pushed back the sheet and sat up. Pretending to sleep now that he'd noticed wouldn't be wise.
Last night, Juliet hadn't slept at all. She'd stayed awake all night, but tension kept her from feeling tired.
"I have something to say."
Answering cautiously, Juliet slipped barefoot from the bed.
She let her undoubtedly tousled long hair fall messily to one side.
Juliet no longer cared how she looked.
No matter how carefully she dressed, she always felt shabby in front of her sun-like lover.
Whether in a glamorous gown or simple nightclothes, it was all the same in his eyes.
"Later."
"Lennox."
Juliet urgently reached out and grabbed the man as he turned away indifferently.
She had no "later." It had to be now.
Lennox Carlyle.
The empire's young powerbroker, ruler of the North, Duke Carlyle was Juliet's lover. And her lover was an exceedingly busy man.
Always surrounded by people, their chances to be alone were rare, and this was it.
"It'll only take a moment. I won't steal your time."
The duke gazed down impassively at the woman clinging to his arm.
Startled by his cold, ruthless red eyes and emotionless chill, Juliet didn't let go or look away.
Finally, after a brief silence, permission came.
"Do as you like."
As Juliet breathed a sigh of relief, the duke perched casually on the edge of the table.
His hand picked up the silver case from the nightstand. A long, shapely finger extracted a single cigarette.
"Speak."
"I..."
Juliet parted her lips with difficulty. Now that it was time to say it, she felt at a loss.
How should she start?
"So..."
"A gift?"
"Yes?"
"You're talking about a birthday gift, right?"
"...Oh."
"Oh."
A birthday gift?
Caught off guard by his unexpected response, Juliet finally realized her twenty-fifth birthday was just days away.
Duke Carlyle was endlessly generous with money, but never affectionate.
Having a wealthy but busy lover meant growing accustomed to his indifference.
But her birthday was the one day he never forgot.
One day out of the year.
The day Juliet Monad could ask something of him.
The next moment, Juliet flashed a bright smile and nodded eagerly.
"Yes, exactly. It's about my birthday gift."
Instead of minding her sudden change in expression, the duke lightly swept back his hair.
He was starting to find the conversation tedious.
The simple motion reeked of annoyance, yet carried an oddly dangerous air.
"Tell me what you want."
But rather than answering immediately, Juliet smiled a little. Seven years ago, when they first met, he'd said the exact same thing.
"Tell me whatever you want. Just not marriage."
Once, his arrogant attitude had irked her enough to make outrageous demands on purpose.
But her lover truly lacked for nothing.
To him, her requests were mere childish whims—annoying and troublesome. Juliet was clever, and it hadn't taken her long to realize that.
Yes.
No matter what she asked for, he wouldn't bat an eye.
Juliet knew that better than anyone.
"This year, instead of a gift, I'd like you to grant me one request."
"A request?"
"Yes."
Juliet hesitated a moment before adding,
"...Promise me first that you'll grant it, no matter what?"
Her earnest demeanor brought the first hint of a smile to Duke Carlyle's lips.
His tightly pressed mouth curved into an alluring line.
It was blatant mockery. But no one could reproach the young Duke Carlyle for his arrogance.
He was the northern duke even the emperor feared. Lennox Carlyle could have the throne itself if he wanted. A mere lover's birthday wish was nothing.
"Fine. I swear."
Lennox nodded offhandedly.
He clearly looked like he was just humoring her childish plea, but that was enough for Juliet.
"Thank you, Your Highness. Then..."
Juliet smiled quietly, blinking slowly on purpose.
To savor her lover's face just a little longer.
And the next moment, the request that slipped from her lips far exceeded Lennox Carlyle's expectations.
"Please break up with me."
"....What?"
"Your Highness."
With an angelic face, Juliet beamed.
"Let's end it now, us."