Special Story 1

“Wh… What is this…?”

Vivian’s voice trembled pitifully. The handwriting on the letter was all too familiar to her. Sealed with the Grey family’s crest, it could only have been written by her husband.

[My wife is gone. You can come now.]

If someone could only be met when the wife was away, only one possibility came to mind.

“Michelle.”

Vivian’s voice no longer trembled. Now it was sharp and cold as frost. At the chilling tone, Michelle flinched and looked at her, wide-eyed.

“This… This is the situation you mentioned earlier, isn’t it?”

“I-I… that is…”

Michelle and Princess Florin averted their eyes, glancing around as if searching for an escape. Neither of them knew how to answer.

***

The night before Vivian met with Michelle and Princess Florin, one of the rooms in the Duke Grey’s mansion still glowed with light, long after the rest had gone dark.

“Checkmate.”

Armin moved his chess piece with graceful finality.

“Wait! Huh? How did that happen?”

Across from him, Vivian—who had been nodding off for some time—startled awake, eyes wide in shock. Sleep still clung heavily to her lashes. Armin, looking at her firmly, spoke in a resolute tone.

“That’s the last game. Time to sleep.”

He glanced at the clock. It was well past 1 a.m. As he stood up, Vivian hurriedly rose and grabbed his sleeve.

“Just one more game!”

“Vivian. Do you know what time it is right now?”

She flinched at his words but quickly began resetting the board in a rush. Without much thought, she slid her bishop to a random square.

“Just one more. Just one last game.”

“Aren’t you tired?”

There was something pointed in Armin’s gaze as he looked at her. Vivian gave a strained laugh, shaking her head in denial.

“Tired? Ahaha! Not at all! Not even a bit!”

Her eyes, red-rimmed and drooping with exhaustion, betrayed her blatant lie. Armin hesitated for a moment.

‘Should I just let her get away with it again tonight?’

As he stood silently, staring down at her, Vivian’s eyes flickered nervously. In the end, Armin was the one who gave in—again.

“Just one last round. Then straight to bed, alright?”

At the mention of the word “bed,” Vivian flinched. Noticing her subtle tension, Armin let out a quiet sigh. Pretending not to understand her intent, he sat back down.

But half an hour later, Vivian had slumped forward over the chessboard, fast asleep, still clutching a piece in her hand. Armin stared at her for a long moment before letting out a deep sigh.

He gently pried the piece from her fingers, cleared the board, and then lifted her into his arms. Instinctively, she nestled closer to him. When she was awake, she seemed like an entirely different person.

‘Sigh.’

It had only been two weeks since the wedding. A sweet honeymoon phase—but every night ended like this.

“Yesterday it was cards, the day before that word games, and tonight chess?”

What would she pull out next? Armin’s expression was tinged with weary amusement.

***

By the time Vivian came to her senses, the sun was already high in the sky.

An empty bed. She didn’t even remember returning to it, which meant she must’ve fallen asleep in front of the chessboard again last night.

“…Why am I like this…”

Vivian lowered her head in deep self-reproach and tapped her forehead with her knuckles.

It had been two weeks since their wedding. It was supposed to be the peak of their honeymoon—sweet and blissful. But lately, Vivian found it awkward just to face Armin.

“Why…!”

Her voice rose in frustration as she muttered to herself. Why—why did sharing a bed with Armin feel so embarrassing and mortifying?

She knew the reason. It was because no one had ever properly explained the wedding night to someone like her, who had only ever learned about love through books.

Sure, she understood the theory perfectly. But knowledge in her head didn’t translate to true understanding. There was a vast difference between the storybook line “and they lived happily ever after” and the reality of two people—virtual strangers for over twenty years—suddenly becoming family and sharing a life.

Vivian loved Armin. Seeing him made her want to hold him, kiss him, touch him. But the idea of the night shared by a married couple was still far too overwhelming for her.

Life after marriage had been heaven. During the day, Armin slowly took on more of the Duke’s responsibilities. Her father-in-law played cards with her in his now-leisurely days, her mother-in-law let her help with writing, and she’d even hosted tea parties with Princess Florin or visited her childhood home to relax.

The perfect life for a homebody. Her only issue—the only one—was how awkward she felt around Armin.

“…Calling it a problem feels so harsh,” she muttered, cringing at her own thoughts. But the wave of self-loathing washed over her again. This wasn’t something she could ask anyone about. It wasn’t the kind of thing a newlywed should be struggling with.

But just like the morning always came, so did the night. Each evening, she promised herself: Tonight, I’ll act like a proper wife! Yet as soon as Armin entered the room, she instinctively pulled out chess, or a deck of cards, and if that failed, insisted on reading a book until she fell asleep.

Even just being in the same room made her heart pound. If they were to lie in the same bed, surely he would hear it thudding in her chest.

“I can’t keep doing this,” she whispered, balling her fists with resolve. Tonight, I won’t avoid it. I won’t insist on playing chess.

A normal night. She wasn’t exactly sure what “normal” meant, but she was determined to go to sleep beside him like a real wife.

Just as she was reaffirming her vow—

Creak.

A door opened.

Since she’d gotten into the habit of staying up until the early hours and then sleeping through the morning, she assumed it was a maid coming to wake her. She turned her head toward the door—

But it was still closed.

Something felt off. The sound hadn’t come from that direction. And then, her dread was confirmed by a voice that came from the opposite side of the room.

“You’re awake?”

It came from the bathroom.

Whipping her head around, Vivian let out a startled squeal and dove under the covers.

“What? Why’d you scream?”

It was Armin. Shirtless, wearing only trousers, his platinum-blond hair was still dripping with water from a fresh shower.

Seeing Armin during the day was far more dangerous than at night. Her heart pounded so hard it felt like it would leap from her throat.

From under the blanket, she shouted in a panic.

“W-Why are you still here?!”

Vivian’s voice cracked with panic, as if his very presence was something forbidden. Armin’s eyebrow arched at her tone.

“Why am I still here?” he echoed, standing with a slant, his gaze drifting to the bundle of blankets.

He had been planning to wait until Vivian was ready. But as time passed, instead of becoming more comfortable, she had grown visibly more avoidant. It was becoming clear that he had miscalculated.

Once he made his decision, Armin didn’t hesitate. He walked over and locked the door.

At the sound of the lock clicking, Vivian—who had already buried herself under the covers—peeked out in alarm. Her face and neck were flushed a deep red as she shouted,

“Why—why did you lock the door?!”

“In case someone barges in at an important moment. I figure my wife would be even more embarrassed.”

“I-Important moment?!”

“Vivian.”

Unlike her trembling voice, Armin’s was firm.

“How long are you going to keep this up? Don’t you think it’s time you got used to it?”

Vivian, who adored romance novels, had no real aptitude for romance in real life. Armin remembered all too well how she’d tried to set him up with another woman before realizing her own feelings. The memory left a bitter taste.

He enjoyed being around her. Playing chess, card games, reading together—it all made him happy.

But it wasn’t enough. Armin wanted her to want him just as much.

He’d told himself things would improve with time, but after two weeks, his patience had reached its limit. In one smooth motion, Armin scooped up both her and the covers.

“Eek!”

“Sometimes the only way to beat fear is to face it head-on. If I keep waiting, I’ll die of old age.”

“Wait! Hold on! A-Armin!”

Vivian squirmed, kicking her legs in protest, but as he lifted her higher, she instinctively clung to his neck.

“This isn’t a sleepover at a friend’s house.”

“I—I know that!”

“I’m your husband. Not your friend.”

“I know!”

“Then how much longer are you going to keep acting so shy?”

At those final words, Vivian froze.

“…So you knew?” she asked quietly.

“Wouldn’t it be worse if I didn’t?”

How could he not notice, when she so blatantly avoided even approaching the bed?

But seeing her small, shrinking figure made Armin’s heart ache. He hadn’t wanted to see her like this. That’s why he’d been holding back all this time.

He gently set her down on the bed. A tense silence settled between them.

“…I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Her subdued voice and apologetic posture immediately made Armin regret his actions. He’d tried to be patient precisely because he never wanted to force her into this kind of situation.

Still sitting at the edge of the bed, Armin finally spoke.

“Don’t say that. There’s nothing to be sorry about.”

Then he stood up. The moisture in his hair had already completely dried.