Contract Marriage Rewritten
Chapter 26
Chapter 26
* * *
“You want to rush things? Are you serious?”
When Tamil said that, he had glared at Hyperion as if looking at a beast in heat. Yet Hyperion merely stared back at him with a shameless face, as if asking what the problem was.
“I knew you were eager, but honestly…”
Tamil grumbled for quite a while before speaking.
He explained that the first time he and Gemma had slept together, both of them had been so nervous that it was an utter disaster. Gemma had even been so traumatized back then that she avoided him for two whole months.
‘Two months…’
The moment Hyperion heard that, his mind went blank.
Even when trying his best to maintain his composure, the moment he let down his guard, the image of his wife kept surfacing unbidden.
It was something that had often happened even back at the border, so it was nothing new, but the problem was that his imagination had now become far more vivid.
Previously, when he thought of Laniakea, it was the image of them sharing a meal together.
Sitting far apart, quietly taking her meal. He had often stared blankly at that calm, quiet figure.
He was a man who lived where screams echoed and blood splattered all day long. Where he came from, eating was merely an essential act for survival, devoid of any other meaning.
Chewing on dried meat just to survive amidst the screams made the very act of eating feel repulsive.
That was what meals had always been to him, but with her, it was different.
Eating slowly in quiet tranquility, sharing a carefully prepared meal with someone, was something he had not experienced since he was very young.
Though it had been terribly awkward, Hyperion had not disliked it.
No, in truth, he had enjoyed it.
For the first time in a very long while, Hyperion had shared a meal out of pleasure rather than sheer survival.
Was that why? Carried away on his own, he had thought everything would go well.
He recalled Laniakea as he had seen her yesterday.
Freshly bathed, her hair still damp, sitting defenselessly in nothing but a thin shift.
No matter how skilled Hyperion was at self-control, whenever he recalled that sight, an ache would throb low in his belly.
At this rate, how was he any different from a beast in heat? Especially when Laniakea had even fainted that night.
Even while worrying about her body, Hyperion could not help but think:
If we do it again, I know I can be gentle and do it right… I can be careful so it won’t hurt…
Yet that was entirely his own perspective. Gemma and Tamil had told him to assess her condition first before deciding anything.
“Honestly… Her Majesty the Empress might find it terrifying. Even if she couldn’t bring herself to say so.”
At those words, Hyperion froze. In his own excitement, he had not properly considered Laniakea’s position.
One year, one heir.
He had held her in the position of Empress by laying down those terms. Just as he intended, through a mixture of pleading and subtle pressure, Laniakea had ultimately agreed to stay by his side.
That alone showed what kind of person she was: someone who saw her duties through to the very end once committed.
So she must have endured spending the night with him, viewing it as her duty. Even though he had told her to speak up if it became too hard, she had borne it to the end…
When Laniakea regained consciousness and finally burst into tears looking at him, Hyperion had been too ashamed and remorseful to lift his head.
Not only had he pressured her to keep her promise and dragged her into bed, but he had also terrified and exhausted her.
That was why he had caught hold of Mr. and Mrs. Ency and practically begged for their advice.
This was no time to care about pride or appearances. He wanted Laniakea not to fear being with him, but to desire it. If that were the case, what did it matter if he had to take sex education lessons all over again at this point?
Still, he longed to draw closer to her sooner. When he voiced that desire, Tamil pondered for a moment before speaking.
“For today, start with light conversation to build more intimacy. And only when you truly feel Her Majesty has relaxed…”
“…And then?”
Hyperion asked, his expression growing as serious as Tamil’s.
“Tell her you want to hold her hand. If Her Majesty hesitates even in the slightest, do not ask for anything more.”
“And if she doesn’t hesitate?”
“Then just keep holding her hand. If Her Majesty asks why, tell her it’s a step to get used to physical contact. Just to be clear, this is a necessary step and not for fulfilling Your Majesty’s sinister desires, so please don’t misunderstand.”
“What do you mean, ‘sinister’?”
Hyperion clicked his tongue as if offended by what Tamil took him for, but a twinge of guilt stung deep inside his chest.
Either way, it sounded good. Being able to hold her hand openly was something, at least.
However, there was a mountain to cross before that.
Tamil repeatedly stressed that if Laniakea hesitated even a little, he must not advance any further.
Since she had fainted on their very first night, she would surely still be wary of him.
Just then, Gemma returned. Hearing what Tamil had instructed Hyperion, she clicked her tongue in pity.
“To think a man so terrifying at the border has ended up like this in the Imperial Palace.”
Gemma recalled Hyperion before his marriage.
* * *
Gemma used to think that if there was anything colder and harder than the ice walls of the North, it had to be Hyperion.
Though he had saved them, it was not out of warmth or pity.
He had merely uncovered an embezzlement by a local lord and rescued them while checking on the matter; even if Mr. and Mrs. Ency had died, he would not have particularly cared.
He showed a bit more emotion toward his knights, but he never crossed a certain line.
And understandably so; the North was a place where people died at the drop of a hat, and growing deeply attached would only bring pain, so his cold demeanor made sense.
Perhaps because he stood amidst death more than anyone else every single day, Hyperion had seemed to have little attachment to life.
He always confronted the enemy at the very front, throwing himself into hostile lines without sparing his body. Even when receiving medical treatment, he always stepped back, insisting he would be treated last. It was not out of generosity.
It was the dreadful ennui of a man quietly awaiting the finality of death.
Gemma remembered vividly the day Hyperion changed.
One day, an emissary arrived from the Imperial Palace.
Dressed in flashy garments rarely seen in the North, the emissary stepped down from the carriage, blatantly wrinkling his nose and covering his nostrils. At such blatant contempt, the knights bristled, their hands going to their swords.
“His Highness the 1st Prince shall receive the decree of Her Majesty the Empress!”
The emissary spoke and tossed the letter to Hyperion.
Thinking that the bastard was as obnoxious in action as he was in appearance, the knights watched Hyperion’s expression.
Reading the letter with an unreadable expression, Hyperion gave a nod.
“Understood. I will depart immediately.”
“Your Highness? What has happened?”
“I am told to get married.”
“Whaaaat?”
Everyone shouted in shock, loud enough to ring throughout the entire fortress.
Marriage? Our Prince, getting married?
“I am told to sign the contract first, so I will be going. Look after things yourselves for the time being.”
Having said that, Hyperion immediately fetched his horse, ordered the emissary to move, and disappeared with him.
Watching Hyperion ride away, Gemma clicked her tongue inwardly. She did not know much about the world of high nobility, but she knew there was no love in their marriages.
Besides, could a marriage arranged by the Empress ever be a good match for Hyperion?
‘I feel sorry for the lady on the other end, too.’
As if even the time spent preparing were a waste, Hyperion had left immediately without even changing his clothes. Who could possibly take a liking to him looking like that? What good was a handsome face when the man himself was utterly terrifying?
‘Not that he’s the kind of man to give his heart to anyone in the first place.’
Watching Hyperion fade into the distance, everyone merely wished for his swift and safe return.
About ten days later, Hyperion returned.
However, there was a problem.
“Your Highness? Are you all right?”
Hyperion, who normally would have set out to inspect the border immediately upon returning, had gone straight into his quarters, sat in a chair, and simply stared blankly at the mountains.
Hyperion’s knights were thrown into an uproar. Mr. and Mrs. Ency were no different.
“Did those bastards in the Imperial Palace drug His Highness?”
“Dear, what are you doing! Bring all the poison test strips right now! Let’s have His Highness test them one by one!”
It was the first time Hyperion had ever spaced out like that. And he was not just spacing out—at times, the corners of his lips would even curve into a smile.
That expression made Gemma and Tamil turn even graver.
Did the palace bastards use a mind-shattering poison? But why bother doing that now of all times?
Fortunately, starting from the next day, Hyperion returned to his usual self.
Yet there was a subtle change. A man who had always fought without regard for his life now took far better care of himself. He protected his body and chose paths that offered higher odds of survival.
And so the knights and Mr. and Mrs. Ency realized: he had finally developed an attachment to living.