The Hungry Tyrant's Bedroom - Chapter 25
After a thrilling climax, her eyes slowly closed.
For a long while, the man admired the sight of her like that.
Only after letting out a low moan, as if gazing deep into her, did he rise from his place.
“Ha.”
He gently closed her disheveled legs and placed a large hand over her eyes.
“Sleep well, Floria.”
Her blurred vision was soon surrounded by a cozy darkness.
“Because I won’t let you go like this tomorrow.”
“Her Grace has collapsed again.”
The head maid, Grace, spoke with a frown. At her words, Aidan, who had been reading documents, lifted his head to look at her.
“Really?”
“…Don’t you think she’s been ill too often? Since coming to Cief, she’s barely been out of bed.”
It was a rather bold remark to make to the Grand Duke.
But no one cared.
In this castle, there wasn’t a soul who didn’t know that the head maid and head butler were important figures to the Grand Duke.
Aidan, the third son who had been all but abandoned by the former Grand Duke, his father.
It was essentially Grace and the head butler who had raised him.
As husband and wife, they had cared for Aidan like a son since his childhood.
So their bold words and actions, unbecoming of their status, were tolerated.
Aidan, gazing at the elderly woman’s face, twisted his lips.
“The Grand Duchess is young and small; it must still be too much for her.”
“Could it be that Your Grace is pushing her too hard?”
At that, Aidan’s brows furrowed.
“What do you mean by that?”
“She’s still young and small… I just wonder if the nights might be too much for her.”
Grace’s subtle reproach—was he not being too vigorous in bed?—made Aidan frown.
“Grace, even for you, that’s an unnecessary intrusion.”
No matter how close they were, interfering in the Grand Duke’s bedroom affairs was clearly crossing a line.
However, Grace didn’t back down. With a straight back, she spoke again.
“…Forgive me. But still, she may not be…”
A suitable bride for Your Grace.
She was about to say that, but shut her mouth at the Grand Duke’s sharp gaze.
The Duchy of Cief had been in turmoil inside and out for some time.
A few years ago, a long drought was followed by an outbreak of fever.
The illness took the former Grand Duke, who had ruled stably for many years, and Aidan’s two older brothers didn’t survive that year either.
Only one of the royal family remained alive.
The third son, Aidan—whom no one had ever expected to inherit the duchy.
As the Grand Duke’s son, Aidan had not received any special education.
With two elder brothers ahead of him, he had little chance of inheriting the title, and more than anything, his father despised him.
He simply lived quietly, trying not to draw attention.
What Aidan turned to was horseback riding and martial arts.
The farther he stayed from the castle, the less likely he was to be scolded by his father.
He gradually became skilled with the bow, spear, and sword.
After returning from a hunt and sweating it all out, even his unstable and painful past seemed to fade.
Though he trained his body, he knew nothing of refined diplomacy.
Yet with the deaths of his father and brothers, he suddenly found himself having to manage the duchy.
‘When a nation shakes, rats creep in through the cracks.’
That was what the late Grand Duke always used to say.
And it proved prophetic.
With the young and unprepared Aidan now holding power, neighboring nations stirred at the borders, seeking opportunity.
The Duchy of Kaluitt to the west, Permezan to the east, and Altomole to the south.
Caught between them, the young Grand Duke was like a candle in the wind.
Fortunately, Aidan was a born strategist.
Though never taught, he had an instinctive grasp of strength and how to use smaller forces to inflict greater damage.
After several years of scattered yet crucial battles and wars, the Duchy of Cief finally found peace.
It was Aidan, the warrior, who brought victory in that war and peace to the duchy.
