The Duke and the Girl from Nowhere

The carriage ride back to the estate was cloaked in silence, save for the rhythmic clatter of hooves on cobblestone. Yuna sat with her hands folded tightly in her lap, her mask now resting beside her, her breath still caught from the weight of Ji-Hwan's stare across the ballroom — full of things he never said.

He hadn't spoken a word since they left the Ball. Not about the dance. Not about the way their eyes kept finding each other across the floor. And not about the look he gave her when the Crown Prince drew near — like she was the only thing tethering him to this world.

As the estate gates creaked open and the carriage rolled to a halt, Ji-Hwan finally turned to her. His voice was low, almost hoarse.

"You shouldn't have let him near you."

Yuna blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Prince Lee Sun Woo." His jaw tensed. "He looks at you like he already owns you."

She let out a dry laugh. "And what about you? You think storming across the ballroom and staring like that makes you different?"

His gaze flickered with something raw. "I didn't just stare. I held back from doing what I wanted — claiming you in front of everyone."

Her breath hitched. "I'm not something to be claimed, Duke."

"You are when every man in that room wanted to try."

The air between them sizzled.

Ji-Hwan stepped out first and offered her a hand, but Yuna ignored it and climbed out on her own. She walked ahead without waiting, heart racing—not from anger, but something more dangerous. Desire. Confusion. The weight of every lingering look and stolen breath.

Inside the mansion, the corridor stretched endlessly under flickering lanterns. Just as she reached her door, she paused.

Behind her… footsteps.

Slow. Certain.

She turned the knob but didn't push the door open.

"Yuna," he said.

She froze.

"You don't belong to me. I know that," he said softly. "But tonight—seeing Lee Sun-Woo touch you—something in me snapped."

She finally turned to face him. He looked… different. Vulnerable. Hungry. And tired of pretending.

"I've been pretending too," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "Pretending not to feel everything I do when you're near."

He stepped closer.

"Tell me to leave," Ji-Hwan said. "Tell me now and I will."

Her lips parted, but no sound came out.

The silence was answer enough.

His hand brushed her cheek, testing, then daring—until she leaned into his touch. A moment later, his lips met hers. Not like before. This time it was slow. Certain. The kind of kiss that makes everything else fall away.

She reached for the door and pushed it open behind her. The quiet invitation was clear.

And Ji-Hwan… followed.

The door clicked shut behind them.

Under the moonlight that filtered through her window, masks were no longer needed.

Only truth remained.

Ji-Hwan stood still for a moment, his back to her, jaw taut, as if he were wrestling with restraint. Yuna, breath uneven, tugged at the satin mask still hanging loosely from her hand, unsure whether to drop it or hold it like a shield.

"You shouldn't look at me like that," he said without turning around.

Her voice came out quiet. "Like what?"

"Like you don't know what you're doing to me."

He finally turned. The moonlight streaming through the tall windows cast silver across his face — shadows clinging to his cheekbones, light caught in the depth of his gaze. Every step he took toward her was deliberate, almost reluctant, as if each inch tested the threadbare fabric of his control.

"Ji-Hwan—"

"I tried to hold back. Even tonight, I told myself I'd let you go. That I'd let Lee Sun-Woo dance with you. Let you smile at someone else. But the second you disappeared into the crowd, I felt like I couldn't breathe."

He stopped right in front of her, hands gently brushing her arms. "Tell me to stop. Just say it once… and I will."

Yuna didn't move.

She searched his eyes, heart a mess of nerves and wanting. His touch was fire on her skin, yet her mind screamed caution. She had fallen into this world by accident — a stranger among nobles, with no past, no rules to follow.

But when he leaned closer, and his lips grazed her cheek like a promise, all hesitation vanished.

"I won't say it," she whispered.

That was all it took.

His mouth crashed onto hers — not rough, but full of everything he had held back for too long. Her fingers clutched his jacket, and he lifted her effortlessly, carrying her across the room to the edge of the bed. As he lowered her gently onto the silk sheets, the tension between them finally cracked like lightning in a storm.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted this," he breathed against her collarbone, trailing kisses along her throat. "How much I've dreamt of you."

Her breath hitched. "Then show me."

Fingers tangled in fabric. Buttons gave way. Breathless laughter turned into something softer, deeper. His hands moved like he was memorizing her — not just her body, but the way her lips curved when she gasped his name, the way her fingers trembled when they clung to him.

Outside, the masked ball faded. The music, the murmurs, the whispers of society—none of it mattered now.

Here, under the moonlight, there were no rules. No masks. Just them.

And a love too loud to be denied.

End of Chapter 15