Chapter 36
The Tragedy of The Villainess
After placing the bedding on the couch, Lesche walked over to the bed.
Seria was still asleep on the bed. Earlier, he had surely laid her on her back and covered her properly with the covers before leaving, but right now, Seria was asleep with her body curled up like a shrimp. The blanket was rolled up completely over her head.
Lesche, who was watching her, suddenly went over to the fireplace. He looked at the fire and put the last of the firewood in.
Then he walked back to the bed and pulled the blanket down to Seriaâs neck, but  a moment later, it was up over her head again. Lesche once again went over and lowered it down, however, it went up again. He wondered how long does a noble lady sleep with the covers over her head? It was only natural that he didnât know.
No, he wasnât even sure why he was even bothered with these things in the first place. Lesche was appalled by his own behavior.
âYou really are a handful, arenât you?â
A rather sincere tweet. As if it annoyed her, Seria, who had been asleep, frowned her forehead. Lesche chuckled, wondering what she was thinking, and reflexively stopped talking. He stopped pacing in front of Seria like a foolish boy and walked over to the sofa to lie down.
The Laurel Manor had been encroached upon by the shadows, and all of Bergâs treasures stored in the manor were moved to the main castle over the years. However, there were some things that had not been touched. For example, things on the second floor, or this Grand Dukeâs bedroom. The reason for this was his personal aversion.
Thanks to that, the furniture in the room was still the same. The sofa was also a masterpiece, a work of art, as the Grand Dukeâs bedroom could not be decorated carelessly. The silk that covered the sofa was of the highest quality, the gold thread embroidery was the work of craftsmanship, and the size of the sofa was large enough for one adult man to sleep on.
So it must not be too inconvenient for Lesche to sleep on this sofa. From the very beginning, he had never had anyone beside him when he slept.
Well, there was one now.
ââ¦â
The sight of Seria curling herself up and sleeping irritated him. It was also annoying that the old-fashioned fireplace, which had long been left unattended, could not warm enough air in the spacious bedroom. Suddenly, Linonâs nagging that âYour Highness didnât take care of Lady Seria and she got sickâ came to his mind.
She wouldnât just freeze to death in her sleep, would she? He thought. The image of Seria, almost frozen and unconscious on the horse on the way to this green manor, came vividly to his vision.
Lesche sighed. It was indeed in the Laurel Manor, and on the bed of the Grand Duke, if Stern, the Grand Duchess, froze to death in her sleepâ¦. It would be very troublesome and horrible. As soon as the thought occurred to him, Lesche got up from the sofa and sat on the bed.
Before he knew it, Seriaâs body was still completely covered with the bedding that Lesche took from Ben a little while ago.
Lesche lay down on his side like a habit, while Seria was also on her side, turned over and her face naturally came into Lescheâs view.
Her white forehead, plump lips, and her long eyelashes were as green as her hair. Her hair was certainly an unusual color. While the early summer recording came to mind, it also reminded Lesche of the time when the Laurel Manor was renowned for its greatness and beauty. The green manor at that time looked as beautiful as summer in the noon sun.
âHmmmâ¦ân/o/vel/b//in dot c//om
At that moment, Seria moved her arm. The bedding that Lesche placed up to her neck fell down. He didnât want her to freeze to death, so Lesche, who had even come to the bed to lie down, put the covers on her again as it was his duty.
He tucked her back in without much hesitation. Seria frowned briefly and suddenly nuzzled closer into Lescheâs chest.
ââ¦â
Lescheâs eyes went wide. He looked at Seria with embarrassed red eyes. It was as if her body, seeking warmth, had unconsciously plunged into Lescheâs chest. His slightly cold hand quickly flipped through his hair.
****
It was early morning the next day.
Seria woke up with a slightly sore throat. She was worried because for as large as the Grand Dukeâs bedroom was, there was only one fireplace, and there was still a chill in the air.
But it wasnât very cold on the bed. Blinking her sleepy eyes repeatedly, she suddenly felt a weight behind her back and on her waist. She could feel a different level of firmness in every part of that something.
âWhat is it?â
She looked down and thought for a moment that she must be dreaming. The manâs arm hugging her waist came into her vision. Unlike her panicked state, her body was cautious. Because the only man who could have entered the Grand Dukeâs bedchamber and laid down on the bed with such firm arms was her temporary husband, Lesche Berg.
Seria carefully turned around.
It was real.
Lesche was really sleeping behind her and wrapping her waist with one arm.
âWhat kind of dream is this?â
Seria placed her hand on Lescheâs cheek and withdrew her hand immediately in surprise.
Indeed, it was Lesche.
ââ¦â
She couldnât help but give him a light poke but Lesche didnât move. She wished she were dreaming, but the face in front of her was clearly real. She was stunned and just looked at Lesche for a while.
She remembered vividly that she went to sleep on the sofa last night, and wondered why she woke up in bed. It was obvious that either Martha or Lesche moved her here, because she couldnât have crawled on the bed in her sleeping state. However, that wasnât too big of a problem.
The problem was why was he sleeping with her in his arms?
Perhaps Lesche didnât have the covers and went to sleep holding her because he was cold. No matter how much she thought about it, that was the only reason she could think of. But it didnât seem like they did anything. Her clothes were still the same as Martha gave them to her before she fell asleep. Same went for Lesche.
âWhat is this bedding?â
She couldnât understand why her body was covered in double layers. Who could have done such a heinous distribution? Seria got up, fumbling with the covers. Lesche had the covers she was wearing tightly around his body, and for a moment she was transfixed by his face.
ââ¦â
He certainly was the male lead. Handsome, deadly handsome. His face was so perfectly balanced that she could stare at it all day and never get tired of it. Only with his eyes closed, of course. She could probably count on her fingers the number of women who couldnât stare into Lescheâs cold, red eyes.
If only his eyes were friendlier. No, that would be too many women rushing to him.
Seria pulled the blanket up to Lescheâs neck while thinking nonsense. By all accounts, the air in this bedroom was too cold.
âBut why is his hand like that?â
She looked for a moment at Lescheâs hand, which was bandaged, as if it was injured. Then she tried to sneak away, being as careful as possible not to shake the bed, but suddenly she heard a voice.
âYouâre just going to leave after staring at someoneâs face like that?â
Seria was so surprised that she almost fainted. She turned around and saw Lesche sitting up and pulling down the blanket. For some reason, it seemed strange to her seeing the blanket was uncovering Lescheâs body, so she tried not to look and averted her gaze.
âWhy are you avoiding my eyes?â
âIâm looking for my slippers.â
âTheyâre probably down there on the left.â
âWhat? I thought they were on the sofa.â
She slid the slipper through her foot, thinking that Martha was the only person who could put her slippers under the bed with such delicacy.
âDid Martha bring me to the bed?â
âI moved you.â
âWhy?â
âBecause Young Lady was sleeping on the sofa like a shrimp.â
âNo, Your Highness. I was comfortably sleeping.â
âAnd did you run away because you thought Iâd do something else?â
For a moment, Seria opened her eyes wide. As if he read her mind, she was instantly perplexed. Her face started to get hot.
âI knew it.â
âHowâs about you? Why did you lick my cheek?â
âYoung Lady wants me to watch you freeze to death in my arms?â
âThe couch looks spacious and comfortable.â
Lesche clicked his tongue and said,
âYou see people as trash, donât you?â
âHuh?â
Seria was instantly frustrated.
âLast time you said I see people as mops, now I see them as trash?â
âSo I should let my strong wife sleep on the sofa while I sleep on the bed?â
âArenât we temporary?â
âItâs not temporary, itâs not timed, itâs not.â
Lesche said in a decisive voice, pushing the covers and asking something else.
âWas the bed cold?â
âIt wasnât that cold.â
âIt wasnât cold because you snuggled up in my chest sleeping.â
ââ¦â
âHmm? Wasnât it because Your Highness was cold thatâs why you slept with me in your arms?â
âIâm not as sensitive to the cold as Young Lady.â
Lesche answered simply and smiled satisfactorily.
âSo thatâs what you thought huh?â
Seria jumped to her feet pretending not to hear. Lesche tilted his head.
âYoung Lady. Seria stern.â
ââ¦â
Seriaâs face, which was heating up at the mention of her name, was now completely red. Aside from being embarrassed that she had made a mistake, the fact that she was exposed as such was extremely embarrassing. Her cheeks were hot. Seria frowned.
âStop teasing me, Your Highness. Why did your hand get injured? Did you fight with a demon?â
Lesche finally looked down at his hand. It was the first time since she started living in the main castle of Berg that she had seen a bandage anywhere on that manâs body.
âNo.â
âIs that so?â
âI bumped into something.â
Lesche answered shortly, but Seria could see in his expression that he didnât want to talk more about the wound. She diverted the conversation appropriately.
âIt would be better to change the bandage. Letâs go down together. Your Highness.â
âShall we?â
****