Contract Marriage Rewritten
Chapter 18
Blink, blink.
Laniakea slowly blinked her eyes open and shut.
What on earth is in front of me right now?
She clearly recognized it as a man's chest, but having never seen one this close before, it felt utterly surreal. The only thought crossing her mind was that it looked exceedingly solid.
Just then, a stray droplet of water lingering on the nape of his neck rolled down across his chest.
Her gaze traced the droplet as it traveled downward.
Tightly sculpted muscles formed deep contours. Faced with such chiseled definition—the likes of which she had never seen even on a statue—Laniakea found her fingers twitching slightly.
Had she lost her reason for even a fraction of a second longer, she might have traced that droplet's path with her own hand.
Then, the droplet came to a halt. In that spot lay a faint, long horizontal scar. Though faded now, it had clearly been a rather deep wound when first inflicted.
‘What kind of scar is that?’
Just as Laniakea leaned forward to get a closer look, Hyperion drew his collar closed.
The broad, solid chest she had been staring at in a daze vanished behind the soft fabric of the bathrobe. Catching herself feeling an involuntary pang of regret, Laniakea belatedly came to her senses.
Wait. Whose what was I just staring at?
The moment her brain began functioning properly again, she sprang up from the bed in sheer shock.
Yet the mattress gave way beneath her hands as she pushed herself up, throwing her off balance.
“Oh? Ah?”
As she flailed, torn between toppling forward or falling backward, Hyperion caught her hand and gave it a gentle tug.
Thanks to him, she took a light step forward toward him instead of tumbling back.
“Ah.”
It wasn't a violent collision, but her face lightly grazed the robe covering his chest.
Instantly, the fragrant scent of soap unique to someone fresh from a bath swept over her, mingled with a deeper, heavier personal musk.
As that unfamiliar scent enveloped her like a wave, Laniakea's body froze stiff with tension.
Noticing this, Hyperion quickly took a step back, putting distance between them.
“I am sorry.”
“Pardon?”
What on earth was he apologizing for all of a sudden?
“Perhaps out of nervousness, an old habit took over and I masked my presence before stepping inside without realizing it.”
Hearing that he had masked his presence, Laniakea finally understood. He thought she had been startled because he had spoken so suddenly.
“It is quite all right. I was the one lost in thought, so much so that I failed to greet you properly once I came to my senses.”
As she spoke, Laniakea moved to bow her head, but he lightly waved his hand to dissuade her.
Though she felt etiquette demanded it, she had an inkling that bowing would only make his expression harden even more menacingly, so she abandoned the gesture.
‘Besides, the former Empress is no longer here.’
In the past, whenever Laniakea happened to attend a banquet, the former Empress would use glaring looks to force her—and the Princes with her—to bow low. Claiming it was proper etiquette.
With the surrounding ladies-in-waiting and noblewomen glaring daggers at her as well, Laniakea had had no choice but to bow deferentially.
Now, however, there was no Empress, nor anyone monitoring her every move. Furthermore, since Hyperion—the only person entitled to demand a greeting—seemed utterly averse to it, there was no need to force a bow.
“Is something troubling you? You seemed to be in deep contemplation.”
“Um, well…”
Laniakea hesitated, on the verge of confessing her dilemma regarding the selection of ladies-in-waiting, before shaking her head.
“It is nothing. I believe I know what to do now. It is hardly important enough to trouble Your Majesty with.”
It was a lie. She was still fretting over whom to appoint as her ladies-in-waiting. She remained at a complete loss on how to choose.
Come to think of it, Hyperion was the best person to consult regarding the matter.
She knew the families openly backing him, but there might be houses supporting him more discreetly.
In that case, bringing young ladies from those families into her retinue would be ideal. If the main branch daughters were unavailable, she could seek recommendations of talented women from collateral branches.
‘There might even be someone among them who catches His Majesty's eye.’
If so, some family heads might have already petitioned him to take their daughters in as her attendants.
Should someone enter her service for such a reason, Laniakea was more than willing to welcome them warmly.
Given the importance of the role, Hyperion was indeed the ideal partner for a discreet discussion.
Even knowing this, Laniakea felt reluctant to voice her worries to him.
‘He'd probably find it pathetic that I can't even handle something like this on my own.’
Since arriving in the Empire, Laniakea had received no formal education beyond the bare basics.
Because of that, the sudden flood of duties that descended upon her after becoming Empress was overwhelming.
Yet she could not voice her struggles. Doing so would only sound like an excuse for her own incompetence.
In contrast to her struggle, Hyperion was flawless.
Having been driven from the Imperial Palace in his youth, his lack of formal royal education was hardly different from her own, yet he moved through everything with the effortless poise of a man fully prepared.
It was truly a relief that at least one of them was competent rather than both floundering, but Laniakea could not stop herself from shrinking back.
Her confidence waned with every passing day, but she could not let it show. There were still many subversive factions circling Hyperion, and she refused to become a hindrance while he fought to stabilize his imperial authority.
‘Just because I will be leaving soon does not mean I can afford to be careless with my duties.’
Nor did she wish to linger in his memory as an incompetent, clumsy figure, however brief her stay might be.
Therefore, selecting her ladies-in-waiting was something she had to resolve on her own.
“……”
“……”
When Laniakea offered her polite refusal, a brief silence settled over the room.
Worrying that her dismissal might have offended him, she glanced his way, but that did not seem to be the case.
Instead, he rubbed his chin a few times before speaking with evident difficulty.
“First... would you be willing to speak with me for a moment?”
With that, he sat down at the edge of the bed. Laniakea quickly followed suit, sitting down to face him.
The moment she sank into the moderately plush mattress, the reality of why she was here hit her with full force.
‘Tonight, with this man, I am to…’
Though she tried to hold it back, she could not stop herself from dry-swallowing repeatedly from sheer nerves.
She hadn't felt this nervous since her childhood, when she had stood before her parents and sisters to summon a Spirit.
Just as she began to wonder if the silence would stretch on for eternity, Hyperion broke it first.
“First, I believe I must ask for your forgiveness in advance.”
Hyperion continued in an even lower tone.
“It is shameful to admit, but among all my duties, this is the one I am least accustomed to. Princes of the Empire are all bound by the duty to produce an heir. However, I spent my childhood in a Monastery and my adulthood at the harsh Border, so I never received the proper instruction the other Princes enjoyed. As such... I fear I may cause you distress or pain.”
He sounded genuinely apologetic as he spoke.
“If at any point it becomes too difficult, please tell me immediately. I will stop at once.”
Faced with his earnest tone, Laniakea simply nodded.
Truthfully, she thought that would be impossible. According to the scattered knowledge she had gathered, once the act began, men were driven solely by their own desires, regardless of how their partner felt. Besides, even if he stopped because it was difficult, it was an obligation that would have to be fulfilled eventually anyway.
In that case, it was better to simply endure it.
When she nodded, Hyperion stood up and untied the bathrobe draped over his shoulders.
Fortunately, shedding the robe did not leave him entirely bare. While his upper body was exposed, he still wore comfortable sleeping trousers.
Though a flush of embarrassment washed over her, Laniakea stared blankly as he undressed. Stripped of the fabric, the muscles encasing his frame were revealed in sharp relief.
Even the glimpse through his parted collar had been breathtakingly sculpted, but fully bared, his build felt less bulky and more strikingly beautiful.
‘He truly is nothing like the other Princes.’
The three late Princes had been raised delicately under the Empress's sheltered care.
Though they paid lip service to the royal duty of training their bodies and mastering martial arts, Laniakea knew all too well how petulant they became at the slightest bead of sweat.
Whenever the Imperial Family hosted swordsmanship exhibitions, they would swing their blades before the Imperial Knights with movements that were glaringly clumsy to anyone watching.
The knights would feign defeat against those pathetic strikes, showering them with flattering praise like, “With Your Highness's martial prowess so extraordinary, the future of the Empire is secure.”
Listening from the corner, she had been utterly flabbergasted.
The man putting his life on the line at the Border was someone else entirely, yet the praise was showered upon those Princes.
Across his defined muscles, small scars were scattered here and there.
They were marks that men who treated swords like garden toys in the Imperial Palace could never possess.
Noticing her gaze, Hyperion offered a self-deprecating smile.
“Forgive me for the unsightly view.”
Before Laniakea could tell him it wasn't unsightly at all, he stepped closer to her and whispered in a low voice,
“If you do not mind, may I assist you?”
Assist? With what?
Laniakea realized the answer almost immediately. His fingers, trembling ever so slightly, had taken hold of the lapels of her robe.
He was asking to undress her.
