Philippe’s dark eyes narrowed slightly, his sharp, predatory gaze scanning her face for any hidden motive. He adjusted the armrest of his wheelchair without looking away, his black tail giving a slow, restrained twitch against the metal frame.
"We don’t need you to take care of us," He said, his voice cutting through the room coldly. "That’s the duty of the helps. Your role is just to exist, that’s all. It will be far more convenient for everyone if we keep our distance."
"He’s right," Lukas muttered, rubbing his temples as his white fox ears flattened slightly against his head from a sudden headache. "Just stay in your room, don’t make noise, and don’t try to interfere with our work."
Sebastian offered his flawless, yet hollow smile. "Think of it as a transaction, Miss Blair. You receive safety, medical care, and a home. We receive the legal status we need. Keeping our lives separate is best."
Blair didn’t feel hurt by their cold words. To her, their honesty was easier to take than sneers coated in sweet words—it was just their way of protecting themselves.
Ding.
[Contract Finalized: The Marriage Pact is Active.]
[Initial Reward Issued: +7 Days Added to Life Expectancy.]
[Current Life Remaining: 37 Days]
A tiny, gentle wave of warmth bloomed in Blair’s chest, easing the sharp ache in her lungs. Her cold fingers felt slightly warmer as she carefully wrote her name on the final line: Blair.
Sebastian picked up the signed contract, his sharp eyes scanning down the page. He paused, his gaze lingering on the blank space beside her first name.
"What about your last name, Miss Blair?" Sebastian asked smoothly, his tone polite yet probing. "You only wrote your first name."
Blair froze.
In a split second, a flickering, sharp memory surged in her mind—standing outside the grand villa in the pouring rain, watching her adopted parents host a lavish banquet for the ’real heiress’ while security pushed her onto the wet pavement, stripping away her family name and telling her she was a nobody who deserved nothing.
The phantom cold of that rain tried to seep back into her bones, but Blair forced a smile onto her lips. It wasn’t bright, tight, or cold—just right, small, fragile, and barely there.
"I don’t have one," she said softly, her voice steady despite the faint quiver in her breath. "Though... I guess now I am Mrs. Deruno."
Sebastian’s flawless, hollow smile faltered for a split second. Lukas stopped rubbing his temples, casting a quick, piercing look at her from under his messy bangs. Even Philippe, whose hand rested on the control ring of his wheelchair, stilled.
None of them pressed further. In the elite world of beastmen, a human without a family name meant she was entirely unprotected, abandoned by the world. But to them, it simply meant she was a clean slate—someone with no powerful backing to cause political trouble.
It was better that way.
"Very well, Mrs. Deruno," Sebastian said, his voice regaining its smooth composure as he tucked the contract into his leather folder. "Butler Thomas will escort you to the residence."
As the three of them turned toward the doors to exit, Blair gripped the edge of her skirt.
"Um... can I ask just one question?" she spoke up, her voice small.
The three men paused. A heavy silence settled over the room, as if they found it an absolute nuisance to be delayed even by a second.
Lukas let out a faint, irritated sigh, while Sebastian simply waited with polite indifference.
It was Philippe who finally entertained her, his wheelchair turning slightly as his sharp, dark eyes fixed on her.
"If it is anything personal, for example, why I can’t walk—"
"No, no," Blair cut in quickly, waving her hands in a tiny, panicked gesture. "It’s... it’s about the contract."
Her voice dropped to a soft whisper as she began nervously twiddling her fingers on her lap, looking down at her worn shoes.
"I read it, but... I apologize, because I’m not very smart. I don’t understand it properly."
Lukas tilted his head, his fox ears twitching under his messy hair. "You signed a binding legal contract without understanding it?"
"I just know you need a wife..." she whispered even more softly, as if scared they would get mad or hit her if her voice was any louder. "A silent wife for a cover. But what I don’t know is..."
Blair finally lifted her gaze to meet their eyes. Her pupils were entirely clear, innocent, and stripped of any hidden schemes or corporate greed. She raised a single, pale finger.
"...why would you three want to take just... one wife?"
The question hung suspended in the cold air of the conference room.
For the first time since she had walked in, all three Deruno brothers went completely still. It wasn’t a trick question, nor was it a haughty demand for more money. It was pure confusion from a girl who had no idea how high-society beastman laws worked.
Sebastian was the first to break the silence, a quiet, amused huff escaping his chest. "Under the High Council’s Pureblood Preservation Act, the Deruno bloodline must maintain a single, unified household asset to retain our joint corporate holdings. Three separate marriages would cause unnecessary conflicts and divide the empire. One shared marriage keeps it whole."
"In simple terms," Philippe added, his icy voice cutting through the space as he turned his wheelchair back toward the exit, "it is far less troublesome to deal with one temporary inconvenience than three."
"And like we said," Lukas grunted, rubbing his temples as he pushed open the door, "just stay out of our way, and you won’t have to worry about the legal details."
Blair watched their retreating backs as the double doors clicked shut behind them.
A temporary inconvenience.
She looked down at her small, trembling hands, feeling the faint, steady pulse of warmth vibrating in her chest.
They viewed her as a convenient, temporary placeholder—a line item on a corporate contract. But it was fine. They were clear with their intent. They didn’t hide behind fancy promises, faking forever or assuring her of things that would never come.
Blair carefully stood up, smoothing down her simple dress; she couldn’t help but offer the empty room a soft, quiet smile.