ONE NIGHT STAND WITH HOT DUKE-Chapter 90: Awkwardness that is difficult to understand

The wind picked up, fluttering the edges of Ivanka’s cloak. The distant campfire crackled softly, as if bearing silent witness to a conversation that should never have happened yet was inevitable.

"I’ve obeyed all this time," she said again, calmer now, and far more painful. "Because I trusted you. Because I believed I was your choice."

Her eyes shimmered, but no tears fell. "I stood beside you not because of the bond alone. But because I felt loved."

Demian stared at her in silence. His chest felt heavy, his thoughts tangled. He wanted to deny it. To be angry. But Ivanka’s words sank too deep.

"But now," Ivanka went on, her voice weakening, "you tell me to obey... what, exactly? A man whose eyes no longer see me?"

She shook her head slowly. "I don’t even know who you’re choosing anymore."

Silence wrapped around them, crueler than any shout. Demian stood rigid, his fury restrained, leaving only confusion and something that resembled regret, though far too late to be whole.

Ivanka stepped back once, then twice. "You may be angry," she said gently. "But don’t ever tell me to obey a bond you yourself have stopped protecting."

She turned away.

Her steps were firm, though her shoulders trembled slightly. She did not look back.

Demian finally returned to the castle when night had nearly fallen completely.

The stone corridors were quiet, wall torches burning dimly, his shadow stretching long across the floor as he walked toward the chamber. Ivanka’s voice still echoed in his head her final look, her words that accused yet rang painfully true. His chest felt heavy, as though something unseen pressed against every breath he took.

He pushed open the door to the room and stopped.

Valerie was there.

She had just finished bathing. Her hair was still wet, loose down her back, the ends dripping water onto the stone floor. She wore a simple, pale nightgown, the fabric falling softly around her body. The scent of soap and warm water filled the room, mingling with the cool night air drifting in through a slightly open window.

Valerie turned at the sound of the door.

Their gazes met.

No words were spoken.

For a moment, time seemed to stop and an awkwardness rose between them, sharp and unfamiliar, even to Valerie herself. Usually, she would have been the first to look away, to lower her gaze, or to wait for Demian to speak. But not this time.

She looked at him.

Demian looked back longer than he should have.

Something had shifted between them since that morning. Something that could not be restored with a single cold sentence or a short command. Demian realized it as his eyes caught small details he usually overlooked the faint flush still on Valerie’s skin from the warm water, her damp lashes, the lines of exhaustion on her face that had not fully faded.

Valerie was the last person he wanted to face tonight.

And because of that, he stood there, unmoving.

"I—" Demian opened his mouth, then fell silent.

Valerie remained quiet. Her fingers unconsciously clutched the edge of her nightgown, her breathing slow and shallow. She didn’t know how to act. After everything that had happened the forest, the cave, the carriage, the sharp words that could not be taken back Demian’s presence at the threshold of the room felt foreign.

As if he were no longer the same man.

As if this room were no longer the same place.

At last, Demian stepped inside and closed the door behind him. The sound of it felt too loud in the silence.

"Have you... eaten?" he asked finally, his tone flat, almost awkward.

Valerie shook her head slightly. "No."

That single word felt heavy.

Demian nodded, then stood not far from her, unsure whether he should move closer or step away. For the first time, he realized that anger was far easier than a silence like this.

Valerie looked at him again not with hope, not with protest.

Only with the same confusion.

And between them, that awkwardness lingered quiet, fragile, and forcing them both to realize that something had shifted... whether toward something better, or toward a deeper fracture yet to come.

That morning felt quieter than usual.

Sunlight filtered through the thin curtains of the chamber, falling softly onto the cold stone floor. Valerie had been awake for a long time. She sat on the edge of the bed, staring blankly toward the window, as if searching for something out there something she could not find within the walls of this castle.

When Demian entered, his steps were steady as always, carrying the authority that filled the room even before he spoke. Valerie turned, then rose slowly to her feet.

"I want permission," she said at last, her voice calm but clear. "Today, I want to go to the city center. Just for a short walk."

Demian stopped at once. His brows drew together.

"No," he answered curtly, without hesitation.

Valerie had expected that. But this time, she did not retreat.

"I want to go out," she repeated. "I want to see the city. They say there’s an opera performance today. I want to watch it."

Demian looked at her for a long moment, as if trying to read something behind her expression. "For what?" he asked coldly. "You lack nothing here."

Valerie gave a small smile a joyless one."That’s exactly why," she said softly. "I feel... like I’ve been here too long."

There was a naked honesty in her voice. Not rebellion, not a demand. Just a simple desire she had buried for far too long.

Demian crossed his arms over his chest. "The city is crowded. It isn’t safe. You know that."

"I won’t go far on my own," Valerie replied quickly. "Just a few hours. To hear music. To sit among people. To feel normal."

That word, normal made Demian fall silent for a moment.

Valerie continued, more quietly, "I really want to go."

She didn’t beg. She didn’t cry. But there was something in her eyes a deep weariness, a longing for breathing space she had never truly had.

Demian turned his face toward the window. He let out a slow breath, as if negotiating with himself. Keeping Valerie locked within the castle felt heavier with each passing day, yet letting her go entirely was not an option he could accept.

"I don’t like this idea," he said at last.

Valerie waited, her heart beating softly.

"But... fine," Demian continued. "You may go."

Valerie was slightly taken aback. Her eyes lifted, as if unsure she had heard him correctly.

"But listen to me," Demian said firmly, meeting her gaze again. "I will come to pick you up. After the performance ends. You will not return on your own."