ONE NIGHT STAND WITH HOT DUKE-Chapter 157: Existing intentions

That morning split itself into two opposing directions.

As the sun rose above the castle towers, Demian was already prepared to leave for Castle Kosler. His face was calm, his steps measured like someone who had decided to bear whatever awaited him at the end of the road. He did not look for Valerie. He did not knock on her chamber door. Perhaps because he feared finding something there that would make him hesitate.

The carriage departed, iron wheels screeching against the stones of the courtyard. Demian stared straight ahead, carrying with him the resolve to endure, not to hide.

At the same time, Valerie stepped out from the other side of the castle.

She wore a simple cloak, the hood drawn low. Sera escorted her as far as the small, rarely used gate the one not tightly guarded, more often passed by servants than nobles. Noel watched from a distance, pretending to busy himself with his horse, and asked nothing. As if everyone understood: there are journeys that require no questions.

Valerie walked alone. 𝗳𝐫𝚎𝗲𝚠𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝘃𝚎𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝗺

The footpath leading to the pink door was unchanged slightly winding, shaded by old trees whose leaves whispered softly. The morning air felt cold in her lungs, stirring a faint nausea in her stomach. She paused for a moment, steadying her breath, then continued on.

When the door appeared before her, its faded pink paint looked almost garish amid the greens and grays around it. Valerie knocked twice, a pause, then once more. As before.

The door opened on its own.

Lena was waiting inside. This time she had chosen the form of a middle-aged woman, black hair neatly coiled into a bun, eyes sharp but not cruel. The room was warm, filled with the scent of herbs and something older magic that was not loud, but alive.

"You came sooner than I expected," Lena said, her gaze settling on Valerie’s abdomen without needing to be told. "And with a heavier heart."

Valerie closed the door behind her. "Demian left for Kosler today."

Lena nodded slowly, as if she already knew. "And that is why you came here."

Valerie did not deny it. She stepped forward, then stopped in the middle of the room. Her hand reflexively returned to her stomach. The gesture was full of contradiction protection and rejection in a single touch.

"I’m not as calm as I look," Valerie finally said, her voice low. "I’m angry. I hate this situation. And every time I endure, I only give Demian more reasons to stay bound."

"To you," Lena finished for her.

"To me," Valerie nodded. "And to this child."

Silence fell. The small fire in the hearth crackled.

"You want to leave," Lena said slowly. "Not just the castle, but all the knots that bind your life as it is now."

Valerie looked at her, her eyes beginning to burn. "I want Demian to be at peace. I want him not to have to choose between guilt and love. I want to... stop being the reason."

Lena studied her for a long moment, then stepped closer. "And you hope I can give you a way."

"I hope you can give me a possibility," Valerie answered honestly. "Anything. As long as I can leave without making him chase me. Without turning this child into yet another chain."

Lena let out a long breath. "Morvek blood does not easily slip free of its fate. Even before birth, it binds. Not only to its father to the world."

Valerie swallowed. "So there is no way?"

"There is," Lena said softly, but firmly. "But not as you imagine. Not through violence. Not through severing. Every choice will leave a mark."

Valerie closed her eyes. "I’m ready to bear it."

Lena touched Valerie’s wrist warm, real. "Be careful with the word ready. Sometimes what we call readiness is only desperation grown tired of hoping."

Valerie opened her eyes. "Teach me how to leave."

Lena was silent for a long time. Then she turned and took a small bottle filled with a clear liquid that shimmered faintly. She did not hand it over only set it on the table.

"This is not an answer," she said. "Only the first step. And before you go any further, you must know this: whatever you do, it will not erase the bond. It will only change its shape."

Valerie stared at the bottle without touching it. Her chest felt tight, yet her resolve did not waver.

"Then," she said softly, "teach me how to change its shape."

Lena studied Valerie for a long moment too long for a simple question. The small fire in the hearth crackled, as if weighing the words that had just been spoken.

"So," Lena said at last, her voice soft yet sharp, "now you intend to take this child with you. And you will not kill it."

Valerie nodded without hesitation. Her hand returned to her abdomen, steady this time. "He will not die," she said firmly. "And it seems... this child is meant for me. If I must leave, I will take him with me."

Something shifted in Lena’s expression not surprise, but recognition. As though she had just heard a decision she had expected all along.

"Then," Lena said slowly, "you know this will hurt the child’s father."

Valerie lifted her face. "Why?"

"Because of the bond," Lena replied briefly. "This child is not bound only to you. Morvek blood always seeks its source. The father will feel it the loss, the distance. Not now, perhaps. But later. Like a wound that does not bleed, yet never stops throbbing."

Valerie swallowed. Demian’s image flickered through her mind his weary gaze, his low voice when he said he wanted her. A sharp ache slipped in, but she did not retreat.

"So what must I do?" she asked. "If I want to leave without making him chase me. Without turning this child into a pull that cannot be severed."

Lena turned, walking toward an old wooden shelf crowded with bottles, cloth pouches, and objects not all of which seemed... real. She stopped, then glanced back.

"If you wish to go," she said, "in three days there will be a caravan a large one. Merchants, travelers, and mages. Many mages."

Valerie frowned. "And that matters?"

"Very much," Lena replied. "I will travel with them. If you join us, your scent will be masked. The presence of many mages will scramble your trail layers upon layers of magic mixed together. Even a Morvek would struggle to discern which one to follow."

Valerie fixed her with a sharp look. "You sound very certain."

Lena offered a thin smile, not entirely warm. "Because I know one thing that few do."

"What is it?"

"Morveks," Lena said softly, "do not like the scent of mages."