ONE NIGHT STAND WITH HOT DUKE-Chapter 172: Nothing strange

The carriage should have been prepared since morning.

Demian stood at the threshold of the sitting room, his coat already on his shoulders, his sword hanging neatly at his side a long-held habit whenever he was about to return to the castle. His expression was cold, his mind already halfway home, leaving this place behind.

But before he could take a single step, a soft voice called from behind the sofa.

"Demian..."

He stopped.

Ivanka lay there, her pale face looking far too perfect to be coincidence. Her hair spilled across the pillow, her lips trembling slightly, her breathing deliberately shallow as though every breath required effort.

"My head... it hurts," she murmured. "My body feels cold."

Demian turned slowly. Something in his chest tightened not from concern, but from a stranger sensation: exhaustion.

"Are you ill?" he asked flatly.

Ivanka nodded faintly, her hand moving as if searching for support. "Since last night. I tried to endure it I know you wanted to return home... but I don’t have the strength to stand."

Demian studied her for a long moment.

Too long.

An uncomfortable pause settled between them, like a clock whose ticking had abruptly stopped.

He had seen many lies in his life on the battlefield, across negotiation tables, in the eyes of those who wanted something from him. And now, for reasons he couldn’t quite name, all of that felt... uncomfortably close.

"I need to return to the castle," he said at last. "There are matters left unfinished."

Ivanka shifted slightly intentionally or not causing the blanket to slip. "Demian... don’t leave me alone like this."

Before he could respond, the door opened.

Marquess Kosler entered with hurried steps, his expression changing instantly upon seeing his daughter.

"Ivanka?" he exclaimed, rushing to her side. His hand pressed to her forehead, his brows knitting immediately. "She’s burning up."

Demian watched from a distance. The movement was too quick. Too prepared.

"She’s been unwell since morning," the Marquess said, turning to Demian. "The physician has already been summoned. Her body is weak."

Demian crossed his arms. "Why am I only hearing this now?"

"We didn’t wish to trouble you," the Marquess replied swiftly. "Especially with... everything that’s happening outside."

Demian didn’t answer. A faint unease prickled at his thoughts, like a whisper not yet brave enough to become an accusation.

Then Ivanka reached for his hand.

"Don’t go," she whispered. "Stay... at least until I’m better."

For a brief moment, Demian almost pulled his hand away.

But the Marquess’s gaze stopped him a father’s look, filled with certainty, with unwavering conviction.

"She truly is ill," the man said firmly. "I swear it upon my family’s name."

And that was what broke Demian’s hesitation.

He exhaled slowly, then removed the coat from his shoulders.

"Very well," he said shortly. "I won’t return to the castle today."

Ivanka smiled a small smile, quickly hidden the moment Demian looked back at her.

Yet something in Demian’s chest did not settle.

Some time later, in a quieter outer corridor, Demian summoned Asher.

"How is the castle?" he asked without preamble.

Asher stood straight, as always. "So far, there have been no reports of trouble, Your Grace."

"No unrest?"

"No."

"No irregularities?"

"No."

Demian nodded faintly. Then, after a deliberate pause, he asked, "What about Valerie?"

Asher did not answer immediately.

The silence stretched too long to be dismissed as forgetfulness.

Demian stopped walking. Slowly, he turned, fixing Asher with a gaze now far sharper than before.

"You checked on the state of the castle," he said coldly, "without knowing the state of Valerie?"

Asher lowered his head slightly, his jaw tightening.

"I... have not received a direct report about her yet."

Demian let out a quiet huff not a laugh, not anger, but something caught in between.

"Interesting," he said. "You know the condition of the stones, the gates, and the servants yet not the woman who lives within them."

Asher fell silent.

"I’ll find out," he said at last, faster than usual. "I’ll make sure of it."

Demian did not respond.

He simply stared straight ahead, then walked on without waiting for Asher to follow.

At the end of the corridor, Ivanka was already waiting.

She stepped closer, looping her arm through his, her body leaning against him as if weak. "You’re so cold," she said coyly. "Stay with me."

Demian allowed it.

He walked beside Ivanka, accepted her closeness, listened to her voice but his thoughts were already far away.

Night descended slowly over Castle Kosler, yet for Demian, time seemed to move to a rhythm that felt wrong. 𝐟𝕣𝗲𝕖𝕨𝗲𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝗲𝚕.𝗰𝚘𝐦

He sat beside Ivanka’s bed, an oil lamp burning dimly in the corner of the room. Ivanka truly looked unwell her skin pale, her breathing uneven, her body shuddering now and then as if chilled, despite the thick blankets covering her. The physician had just left, the bitter scent of herbal medicine still lingering in the air.

"Demian..." Ivanka called softly.

He turned to her. "You should rest."

Ivanka gave a small, fragile smile. "You don’t look calm."

Demian did not answer at once. He stared at his own hands, fingers clenching and loosening in slow repetition. There was heat that had long cooled, anger that had been restrained but now, all that remained was a restlessness whose origin he could not name.

"I’m fine," he said at last.

A small lie one he did not even believe himself.

For some reason, his chest felt tight. Not because of Ivanka. Not because of this castle. But because of something that was not in front of him.

Valerie’s face surfaced in his mind without invitation. The way she looked at him calm, yet distant. The way she walked, as though always prepared to disappear at any moment. And now, inexplicably, Demian’s thoughts kept circling back to one simple fact that felt unbearably heavy:

He knew nothing about Valerie today.

Ivanka squeezed his hand. Her touch was cold, weak, barely holding any strength. And that... was real. Too real to ignore.

"You won’t leave, will you?" Ivanka asked softly, her eyes half-closed.

Demian drew in a deep breath. "Not tonight."

Ivanka closed her eyes, as if relieved.

But the unease in Demian’s chest did not ease with her.

Meanwhile, in the main castle, night turned into a silent nightmare.

Torches burned at every corner of the courtyard, the footsteps of soldiers echoing through stone corridors. Gordon stood in the center of the lower hall, his face hard, his eyes red from lack of sleep. Every force that could be mobilized had already been deployed.

"You’re certain there isn’t a single trace?" he asked heavily.

"None," one of the captains replied. "North gate, south gate, underground passages all clear."

"The old storage wing?"

"Already searched."

"The inner gardens?"

"No one found."