[Frojholm Estate—Return—Leif’s POV]

As we finally stepped back into Frojholm the next day, I was already rehearsing the moment in my head. My people would be waiting with flowers, snacks, maybe even a little cheer squad—because hello, I just sealed a deal with the Elves and snagged us a shiny new medicines contract.

TA-DA!! Medicine bonus, people!

But reality? Reality slapped me in the face.

Because there—right in the courtyard—my people, my maids, Nick, Baron Sigurd... and even my crimson babies were...

...doing the CHA-CHA dance.

Yes. The Cha-cha. Arms swinging, hips wiggling, even Baron Sigurd’s mustache was bouncing to the rhythm. And Crown Prince, Princess sirella, both captains...were Clapping at them.

I froze. Alvar froze. We both just stood there, staring like idiots.

Alvar’s jaw tightened, his entire majestic "Grand Duke" presence crumbling into something that looked suspiciously like what-the-hell-am-I-watching.

Meanwhile, me?

"...How...how could they dance without me? I want to dance too," I whispered, eyes sparkling.

Alvar snapped his gaze to me like I’d just betrayed the entire Throenvald legacy.

I shuffled my feet, mumbling under my breath, "Should I... maybe show them a BTS dance? Or... Lisa’s ’Money’ choreo?"

And that was when Nick spotted us.

"OH MY—OUR LORD IS HERE!!!"

Like someone had yanked the music crystal, everyone froze mid-cha-cha—arms half-raised, hips mid-sway. Even Baron Sigurd’s mustache was caught mid-bounce.

I raised a hand awkwardly. "Uh... hi there. What’s the special occasion? Why are you all doing the cha-cha?"

Nick tilted his head, brow furrowed. "Cha-cha? What sort of spell is that, my lord?"

"The one you were doing just now," I deadpanned.

Nick looked personally offended. "My lord, I assure you, that was no cha-cha."

Before I could argue choreography, Baron Sigurd stepped forward, smiling wide. "Welcome back, my lord. Did you find the elves?"

Alvar exhaled slowly, rubbing his temple. "Yes. We reached an agreement." His gaze swept across the courtyard. "But... why were you all behaving so... odd?"

Baron Sigurd puffed his chest out, practically glowing. "Because, my lord, we received a letter from Lord Viktor!"

My brows shot up. "Father? What does it say?"

Baron Sigurd lifted his hand, voice booming with dramatic flair: "OUR TERRITORY HAS BEEN DECLARED—AN INDEPENDENT TERRITORY!!!"

. . .

I blinked. My brain flatlined.

Everyone else? Cheers, grins, joy bursting like fireworks.

I raised a hesitant hand. "...That soon? He actually got approval from His Majesty?"

Baron Sigurd nodded vigorously. "Yes, my lord!"

Alvar, ever the skeptical cold rock, arched a brow. "Strange. The Emperor surely must have heard about the taming of the Crimson packs and the discovery of the Trivium Core Stone. Why grant independence after learning all this?"

A new voice chimed in, calm but cutting.

"It’s because he doesn’t know."

I turned. Princess Sirella had stepped forward, her usual poise making half the courtyard straighten on instinct.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

She sighed. "We never informed Father of what has been happening here. We feared the Second Prince might grow suspicious or reckless. But it seems Count Viktor... seized the opportunity. He declared independence before news could spread."

I blinked again, then whistled. "Wow. Classic Father move. Opportunistic, risky, and somehow it works out."

Sirella pinched the bridge of her nose. "That is... one way to put it."

Before I could defend Father’s cunning genius, Baron Sigurd stepped forward again, looking like a man who’d been saving the best for last.

"But, my lord... that wasn’t the only good news."

I narrowed my eyes suspiciously. "Oh? What else? Free snacks? Extra vacation days?"

His smile widened until I swore it might split his beard. Then he raised both arms like he was announcing the winner of a tournament.

"FROM THIS DAY FORWARD... YOU ARE THE RULER OF FROJNHOLM TERRITORY!!!"

. . .

. . .

Cheers erupted instantly. Clapping, shouting, and whoops shook the courtyard. Even the crimson wolves howled in unison like some weird marching band.

And me?

I froze. Trembled. My jaw dropped.

"...Wh—Why me!?" I stammered, my voice cracking like a broken flute.

Baron Sigurd beamed, pride shining in his eyes. "Because no one is better suited than you, my lord!"

I stood there trembling, disbelieving. My thoughts spun faster than a hamster on an energy drink.

That... that means... I got... MORE WORK!?

My lips trembled, and my brain short-circuited. "N-no... wait... hold on... I never signed up for—"

THUD!!!

My legs gave out and I collapsed onto the ground, sprawled like a sack of flour. Gasps erupted. Someone shouted, "OH MY GOD! LORD LEIF HAS FAINTED... FROM HAPPINESS!"

"No—no, I didn’t—" I croaked weakly, but no one heard me.

Warmth enveloped me suddenly—Alvar’s arms, steady and strong, scooped me up effortlessly like I weighed nothing. His jaw was tight, his voice as sharp as steel.

"Call the physician. Now."

"But Grand Duke—" Nick stammered.

"NOW!" Alvar barked, holding me close against his chest.

I flailed weakly, groaning. "It’s not happiness... it’s corporate burnout...!"

And then the world tilted as my eyes fluttered shut.

Gods above... I just wanted Beer, snacks and Nap. How did this turn into more responsibility?

***

[Leif’s Chamber—Later]

My eyelids fluttered open, catching sight of the plain ceiling above me. For a blissful moment, I thought maybe it had all been a bad dream.

"I... I hope I’m in Nirvana," I mumbled weakly.

"Leif?"

That voice. Ofcourse It’s Alvar’s Voice.

I turned my head—and nearly died all over again. Grand Duke Mr. Frosty himself... standing half-naked in front of me. His hair still damp from a bath, droplets sliding down his neck, and oh no—oh no no no—my rainbow baby woke up.

I slapped my own cheek in disbelief. Nope. Not a dream. Definitely Nirvana.

Before I could even process, he strode over, sat beside me, and with those huge hands—those criminally distracting

hands—he adjusted my hair and gently patted my cheek.

"Are you okay?" he asked, voice low and serious.

My brain? Gone.My eyes? Glued.To his chest. His broad, sculpted, dangerously bare chest.

And okay—yes—I’ve seen him naked before. But why does he look extra hot right now? Is it because... somehow we’re actually dating?

He grabbed a glass, lifting it to my lips. "First, drink water. The physician said you fainted from shock. How are you feeling now?"

I swallowed a mouthful, nodding. "I’m... I’m good..."

My gaze drifted back down. Too good. "...EXTRA good."

He arched a brow. "...Extra?"

I coughed violently, nearly choking on the water. "I mean—I meant—good! Just good! Not extra! Well—extra good isn’t bad either but—ahhh forget it!"

Alvar’s lips curved into a rare, quiet chuckle. He leaned closer, his voice brushing over my skin like velvet. "I can see where your eyes are going, Leif."

I gasped dramatically, clutching my chest. "Are you calling me a pervert?!"

Instead of denying it, he only laughed again—low, husky—and pressed a kiss to my forehead. "I’m all yours, Leif. You can look at me, drool over me..." His hand caught mine, guiding it boldly against his chest, where warmth and muscle collided under my palm. "...and you can even touch me."

Like a pressure cooker about to explode, my whole body went red—sizzling, trembling red. I yanked my hand back as though I’d been burned. "Please... I just woke up! I don’t want to faint again!"

Alvar’s smile deepened, both amused and maddening. "So tell me then—why did you faint? Was it because you were happy to become a ruler?"

"No."

"Then?"

My chest tightened. I trembled. "...You know why I came here, don’t you?"

He tilted his head. "Because you like men and wanted to separate yourself from people. That’s what you told me."

I shook my head, trembling harder now. "That was correct... but only twenty-five percent." My voice cracked as I confessed the true weight. "The main reason was... I WANTED TO LAZE AROUND!!"

Silence.

Alvar blinked. Once. Twice. His face was a perfect sculpture of disbelief.

I broke, collapsing into pitiful sobs. "I just wanted to drink beer, eat snacks, and nap in peace—but instead I got EXTRA WORK!" My voice went high-pitched, pathetic, and wholly un-dignified as I wailed into my hands.

Alvar exhaled deeply, and then those steady, broad arms wrapped around me. He pulled me close, one hand stroking my back with a tenderness that melted through my complaints. "Alright... alright. I hear you. But lazing around forever isn’t living, Leif. Still..." His chin rested lightly atop my head. "... I’m here with you. So don’t worry."

My nose pressed against his bare shoulder, and the scent of fresh water and steel clung to him. I sniffled into his skin, whispering, "You’ll stay with me, right? You won’t leave me?"

His hand stilled on my back. Then, softly but firmly, "No. I’m here with you."

Warmth filled my chest—until the bitter thorn pricked. My lips moved before my mind could stop them. "...Then what about Elowen?"

The moment her name left me, Alvar’s body stiffened. He pulled back, his arms slipping away, his expression shadowed. "... Why did you bring her up?"

Because no matter what, no matter how much I wanted to be selfish—it wouldn’t change the truth. Alvar was the male lead of this cursed novel. And the saintess selections would begin soon.

And Elowen—backed by House Regulffson—waited in the capital.

My smile faltered. My chest ached. The warmth of his embrace faded with the silence stretching between us.

And I realized... sooner or later, he would have to leave.