Reincarnate as the Villainess's Husband-Chapter 119: Stay

Neonidas's lips curved slightly. "And sometimes you remind me that you're more merciful than I am."

The silence between them slowly dissolved into the cool night breeze. They were two sharp blades complementing each other—one honed by intelligence, the other by cunning.

Neonidas raised a hand and lightly touched Allea's shoulder. "Aren't you going to share your thoughts this time?"

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Allea smiled, but there was a warm challenge in her expression. "I was just thinking about how exhausting it is to argue with you. If we were truly married, we'd probably spend every night trying to outmaneuver each other until morning."

Neonidas chuckled softly, his voice deep and pleasant. "That's why we'd be the perfect couple."

Allea paused for a moment, her gaze drifting as if reflecting on her own words. For weeks, the dynamic between them hadn't changed. Maybe…

Noticing her momentary contemplation, Neonidas slowly placed his hand over Allea's palm. "Don't worry," he said with teasing warmth. "I would never let you taste the feeling of victory."

Allea locked eyes with him and smiled lightly. "Ah, my dear… Shall we talk about this?"

And that night, only the wind and the silent smiles of two souls who would never tire of battling each other remained in the garden.

---

Neonidas was in his study, occupied with the usual affairs of the duchy. Over the past few days, the nobles had dispersed, and with the official declaration of the Duchy of Hindonpon, the emperor's appointed aristocrats had returned to their lands.

The only sounds in the room were the flickering candlelight and the swift movements of a quill across parchment. As Neonidas carefully examined the documents before him, his eyes narrowed, analyzing the hidden dangers lurking between the lines. The declaration of the Duchy of Hindonpon meant that, on the surface, the game of thrones had settled, but beneath it, the tides were still turbulent.

In the dim candlelight, his features appeared even sharper. Neonidas knew that maintaining power was just as challenging as seizing it. Reforms had been initiated, trade had been regulated, and the military had been restructured. But a ruler's greatest battle began when swords fell silent and whispers took their place.

The door creaked open gently. The approaching footsteps were light, yet they carried a weighty meaning.

The woman who entered had golden hair, blue eyes, and an exquisitely beautiful figure—Cassandra.

Cassandra's family had left last night, but she had chosen to stay. After all, she was Neonidas's concubine.

Noticing the door opening, Neonidas slowly set his quill down on the parchment. As Cassandra glided inside, her face bore its usual calm expression. She was a woman who conveyed meaning without words; her presence was as silent as a shadow, yet impossible to ignore. Her golden hair shimmered warmly under the candlelight, and her blue eyes were deep yet tranquil—like the surface of a lake before a storm.

Neonidas glanced at her briefly before returning to his documents. But Cassandra's approaching footsteps did not halt. She stopped directly in front of his desk and bowed her head slightly.

"I know you don't like being disturbed while working," she said, her voice serene, yet carrying an unspoken challenge. "But I need to talk to you."

After a brief silence, Neonidas leaned back in his chair, studying her. "You know that coming here with your family was disrespectful to Allea," he said, his tone lacking accusation but filled with curiosity. "I wonder why."

Cassandra locked eyes with him. Her gaze held a depth of intelligence and resolve far beyond what an ordinary concubine would possess. A faint, knowing smile played on her lips, as if she had already anticipated the course of this conversation.

"I'm aware that my presence here bothers Allea," she said, her voice still calm, but her words carefully chosen. "But this has little to do with her, Neonidas. I sensed that my father was growing suspicious of me. If I hadn't come here with him, he would have assumed that I was entirely loyal to you. Please convey my apologies to Princess Allea on my behalf. I never intended to trouble her. If you'll excuse me, I will take my leave now."

Neonidas furrowed his brows slightly, weighing Cassandra's words. There wasn't a hint of falsehood in her expression; every word was meticulously calculated, logical, and composed. And yet, had his aloofness towards her been harsher than he thought?

Resting his hand on the desk, he lightly tapped his fingers. A strange sense of unease settled in his chest—an unfamiliar pressure. Neonidas knew how to wield ruthlessness like a weapon, yet recently, with Cassandra and the other women, he had skillfully bent the blade's edge. He hadn't meant to test, challenge, or provoke her. He had simply stated a fact.

And yet, Cassandra's brief and measured farewell only deepened his discomfort.

Had he felt… guilty? That was likely a first for Neonidas.

As he watched her turn and head toward the door, his instincts took over. Words alone wouldn't be enough; allowing her to leave like this might lead Cassandra to develop a false impression of him.

Rising from his chair without a sound, he closed the distance between them in a few strides. Without saying a word, he gently grasped her wrist and pulled her toward him.

Cassandra's eyes widened in surprise as Neonidas slowly wrapped his arms around her and he held her tight and wouldn't let her go.

The woman raised her eyebrows as if she wanted to protest his actions, but when she noticed the shift in Neonidas's expression, she remained silent. This was not the face of a man who sought to dominate, but one who carried a hint of regret within him.

He put Cassandra on his lap and sat himself in his chair. Neonidas reached for the documents on his desk, allowing himself to grow accustomed to the warmth of Cassandra's body against him.

"If you have a reason to stay here, then stay," he said, his voice as authoritative as always, yet carrying an unexpected softness.

Cassandra rested her head lightly against his chest, a faint smile playing on her lips. "Is this your way of apologizing?"

Neonidas gave a slight nod. "Do you want me to apologize?"

Cassandra ran her slender fingers gently over his firm chest. "No," she whispered, "I prefer this."

And the only sound in the room was the soft dance of the quill gliding over parchment once more.

As Neonidas focused on the documents before him, he was keenly aware of Cassandra's warmth. Every line on the parchment shaped Hindonpon's future, filled with decisions that would define his rule. Yet at this moment, the steady rhythm of Cassandra's breath and the unexpected sense of tranquility she brought stirred something different within him.

As she rested against him in silence, his thoughts drifted from the documents, pulled toward something more abstract. Power, alliances, betrayal, loyalty… These were the foundations of his life. But now, here, with Cassandra in his arms, the rigid rules of the world seemed to soften, even if just for a moment.

"You seem deep in thought," Cassandra murmured, tilting her head slightly to look up at him.

Neonidas didn't lift his gaze from the parchment. "A duke's work never ends."

Cassandra smiled faintly, her eyes holding an understanding far beyond her words. "For a man like you, isn't that just an excuse? You always need to be occupied. Otherwise, would your own thoughts start to haunt you?"

Neonidas placed the parchment down and finally met her gaze. Her words carried more meaning than he had expected.

"I don't seek to silence my thoughts," he said, his voice as cold as ever, but tinged with hint of honesty. "It's just… A ruler can never stop. The moment he does, weakness begins."

Cassandra tilted her head slightly. "And you hate weakness."

Neonidas smirked, though his expression was neither wholly mocking nor entirely accepting. "Weakness is a tool to be exploited. But it will never keep me from where I need to be."

Cassandra pressed closer, resting her head against his chest. "And what about me?" she murmured, her voice as soft as a whisper. "I want to stay here, by your side. But what if one day… I become a weakness to you?"

Neonidas's gaze deepened. He knew exactly what she was asking. A man growing attached to a woman, developing a vulnerability for her… It had been the downfall of many rulers before him. But when he looked at Cassandra, he saw that she was no ordinary concubine. She wasn't just a woman—she understood power, knew how the game was played, sometimes even challenged it, yet always acted with intelligence.

Neonidas studied her for a moment before speaking. "I don't believe you'll ever be a weakness, Cassandra."

She smiled—a slow, knowing smile filled with meaning. "Then I'm staying."