Chapter 31
“Why are you so surprised, Marquis?” Damia asked.
“Normally, you’d be angry and say you can’t trust me,” Cassian said.
“Why would I? I like the privacy clause best. I don’t overestimate myself.”
“What do you mean?”
“If it weren’t written clearly, I might misunderstand your kindness as love. That would be unpleasant for you!”
Cassian bit his lip, trying to hide his embarrassment.
“I like you a lot, but I won’t force my feelings. I’ll do my best, so don’t worry.”
“That’s not what I meant by doing your best,” he replied.
“But still!” she said.
“I’ll draw the line, you just be yourself,” Cassian said.
“I proposed to protect you from unwanted advances! I can’t forget my duty and make you uncomfortable,” Damia said cheerfully.
Her lively tone made Cassian uneasy. He tried to swallow his mixed feelings.
“Fine… just sign it,” he muttered tiredly.
Damia hummed happily as she signed.
“Thank you so much, Marquis!”
Cassian narrowed his eyes. A normal girl would feel upset at the no-interference clause, but Damia seemed fine. How could she be so generous-hearted?
A few days passed since Damia moved into the mansion. Her pale cheeks grew rosy from sweets.
Although they were still young, the Marchioness gave a reason for her stay: “bride lessons,” to protect her reputation.
Cassian walked her in the garden and brought up the shocking news:
“The butler’s body was found,” he said.
Damia’s eyes widened.
“Finding the culprit isn’t easy,” Cassian said.
“The Count Fabron is suspicious,” he added, “but he was clever. There’s no proof besides your testimony.”
“Who did it? Did Fabron send someone?”
Cassian hesitated. The body had no trace of a normal attack—it looked as if someone tore it apart by hand.
Damia’s violet eyes were sharp, not scared.
“There’s something I didn’t tell you,” she said quietly. “The man who pretended to be the coachman… his eyes were strange. His pupils were vertical, like a reptile.”
Cassian’s heart skipped. This was the same mysterious figure who had been so angry about her giving Cassian a treatment. They had known everything about the plan.
It fit the old rumors: descendants of the last dragon killed by the Sarkis family had survived and disguised themselves as humans.
Cassian covered his mouth, feeling the anger and tension rising.
“Are you alright, Marquis?” Damia asked, concerned.
“I’m fine,” he said, though he tasted faint blood in his mouth.
Damia noticed Cassian had skipped medicine, probably to avoid going back to the Ponti mansion.
“Give me your hand,” she said.
“What?”
“I’m taking off your glove,” she replied calmly.
Cassian tried to resist but couldn’t. Damia’s small hands held him firmly.
“Why…?” he asked.
“Why not? We don’t need to just hold hands. Let’s try this,” she said.
Her violet eyes focused only on him, her warmth holding him like a tether.
Cassian felt his chest tighten. He placed his hand over his heart. His pulse was slow but strong.
“You didn’t read the contract? It says contact only when necessary,” he said.
“This is one of those necessary times, Marquis,” she said.
The soft wind blew through her silver hair, and her sweet scent made Cassian bite his lip. He wondered, if she ever became greedy for him, how miserable his life would be. He was already unlucky enough, knowing his life was short.
