Blair’s breath hitched in her chest. She didn’t shrink back, though every protective instinct inside her screamed to lower her head.
"It’s not about catching your attention, Master Sebastian," Blair said softly, keeping her voice as steady and non-intrusive as possible. "I know you work late into the night, and you rarely take time to eat. I made something light... Different from yesterdays. You don’t have to keep me company, nor do you have to talk to me. Just... please take a few sips while it’s still warm."
Sebastian stared down at her. His face remained an unreadable mask, but his gaze flicked down to her right wrist—where the thick white synth-dressings peeked out from her sleeve.
"You dragged your broken body to the kitchen to brew tea. Or did you not know that I threw your previous attempt into the trash last night," Sebastian murmured, stepping even closer until he was standing directly in front of her.
"I... I guessed it," she whispered.
"Then tell me, Blair... is this stubborn foolishness, or do you simply have no self-respect?"
The harsh words cut deep, but Blair held the tray steady, looking up into his golden, unyielding eyes.
"It’s respect for my role as your wife," Blair replied quietly, her clear eyes unwavering. "Even if you consider me a burden, as long as I am here, I will fulfill my duties. If you don’t want to eat it, you can throw it away again. But as long as you’re working late, I will keep bringing it."
Silence stretched tight and heavy between them in the dim gallery.
Sebastian’s eyes narrowed into thin slits. For the first time, the hollow, polite indifference on his face cracked, replaced by a dark, dangerous intrigue. He looked at the steaming teacup, then back at her pale, determined face.
Slowly, deliberately, Sebastian reached out with his gloved hand. He didn’t take the teacup. Instead, his long fingers brushed lightly against the edge of the tray, testing whether her trembling left arm would buckle under his weight.
Blair’s shoulder muscles strained under the sudden, deliberate pressure. Her left arm trembled violently, the silver tray wobbling, but she locked her feet into the marble floor and refused to let it slip.
She didn’t break eye contact with him, though sweat began to bead along her hairline from the pure physical exertion.
Sebastian watched her struggle with a cold, detached fascination. He waited for her to wince, to cry out, or to use her weakness as a plea for mercy.
She did none of those things.
Satisfied with whatever silent test he had just conducted, Sebastian eased his hand off the tray. The sudden release of pressure made Blair catch her breath, but she kept her balance.
Without a word, Sebastian reached out and picked up the delicate porcelain cup.
He didn’t return to his study. Right there in the dim light of the gallery, under the quiet gaze of the ancient beastman portraits lining the walls, he brought the warm golden tea to his lips. He took a slow, deliberate sip.
The fragrant warmth of white pear and night-blooming chamomile spread across his palate—smooth, perfectly balanced, and carrying no harsh aftertaste. It was crafted with undeniable skill, designed specifically not to overwhelm the senses of an apex predator working long hours.
Sebastian lowered the cup, his golden eyes scanning her pale face.
"Adequate," he murmured smoothly, his tone as cool and unreadable as ever. "Though if you collapse on the way back to your quarters, Mrs. Deruno, I will not be the one carrying you."
He set the teacup back onto the tray with a soft, clear clink, then picked up the small, warm pear tartlet with two fingers. Without another glance in her direction, he turned on his heel and walked toward his private office doors.
As soon as the doors shut behind him, Blair finally let out a long, shaky breath. Her trembling left arm finally gave out, and she lowered the tray onto a nearby display ledge, resting her weight against the cold glass.
She did it. He drank her tea right in front of her. Did this mean she was making progress?
Suddenly, the translucent system interface bloomed to life in her vision with a brilliant, shimmering cyan glow:
[System Mission Completed: A Silent Shadow in the Dark]
[Target Reaction: Target consumed the offering directly.]
[Rewards Issued:]
—Life Expectancy Remaining: 48 Days (▲ +3 Days)
—Symptom Relief: Temporary Vascular Stabilization Applied
[Husband Affection Tracking Log]
—Lukas Deruno: 22%
—Philippe Deruno: 10%
—Sebastian Deruno: 2% (▲ +2%)
Blair stared at the floating log. A tiny 2% shift next to Sebastian’s name. It wasn’t a grand declaration, nor was it warmth—it was simply the first crack in an impenetrable wall of ice.
A gentle, soothing coolness spread through her chest as the system’s vascular stabilizer took effect, dulling the sharp, inflammatory ache in her lungs. She smiled faintly, picking up the empty tray with her left hand.
She had survived yet another day, gained three more days to her lifespan, and proven to the coldest brother that she wasn’t so easily swept aside.
Blair made her way back down the quiet, dimly lit corridor, carrying the silver tray in her left arm. Despite her physical exhaustion, the faint, soothing sensation of the vascular stabilizer seeping through her veins made her steps feel surprisingly lighter.
Her lips were curled into a small, genuinely radiant smile—a quiet, fleeting moment of sheer relief at having earned three precious days on her life clock.
"You are supposed to be resting."
A deep voice cut through the stillness of the hall.
Blair paused, turning her head to see Philippe sitting in his wheelchair near the archway of the main gallery. His dark gaze fixed entirely on her face.
She quickly adjusted her posture, holding the tray a little closer. "Ah... Master Philippe. I... I just had to deliver Master Sebastian his tea."
Philippe’s sharp eyes dropped to the empty teacup on the tray, then back to her face. She looked genuinely cheerful—a quiet, unburdened brightness in her eyes that he had never seen on her pale face before.
Did Sebastian say something to make her look like that? Philippe wondered, a subtle, unnoticeable shift occurring in his dark gaze. No... impossible.
Sebastian was a man carved from ice; he didn’t offer warmth or comfort to anyone, least of all a human he viewed as a liability. Was it possible she simply favored Sebastian, despite him treating her with the utmost coldness?
"I see," Philippe said smoothly, his tone unreadable. "Don’t overexert yourself. You still need to recover for the banquet."
"I won’t. Thank you, Master Philippe," Blair replied with a gentle, polite nod.
She turned and continued down the corridor toward her quarters, completely unaware of his inner thoughts. Her joy had nothing to do with Sebastian himself—it was the pure, overwhelming relief of knowing her chances of survival had increased—but Philippe did not know that.
Philippe remained stationary in his wheelchair, watching her receding figure until she disappeared around the corner. He lingered on the image of that brief, effortless smile.
That human... smiles quite prettily, he thought silently, the realization settling into his mind like a quiet, lingering echo.