Chapter 64: Shared Space
It was an unspoken rule in the mansion—Aracila’s domain was the bedroom, while Damian’s was the office.
They usually refrained from intruding on each other’s spaces.
So when Damian announced that he was setting up a desk for her in his office, Aracila was momentarily dumbfounded.
“…Are you serious?”
“Do you think I would joke about this? Since we’re working on the same project, it’s a waste of time to be in separate rooms. Sharing a space is much more efficient.”
Damian’s response was calm, as if it were the most logical thing in the world.
But in truth, he had deliberated over this decision for quite some time.
Between the two of them, he was the one even more accustomed to solitude.
However, since their business venture wasn’t something that would be completed in a matter of days, he reasoned that it was best to find a compromise for the sake of convenience.
“If you’re uncomfortable with the idea, let me know. I can cancel the order.”
“No, well… I don’t mind. Let’s work together.”
Aracila nodded.
She had never had a proper desk in the bedroom, which had been inconvenient anyway.
Three days later, the desk arrived.
That evening, the two of them officially began working together in Damian’s office.
Aracila took a moment to slowly look around.
She had been in this room several times before, but there was a distinct difference between being in someone else’s space and being in a shared space.
The room was neatly arranged, containing only the essentials.
The only two objects that stood out were a wreath of everlasting flowers—hung by Aracila herself—and the large, elegant desk now placed diagonally across from Damian’s.
Made of mahogany, the desk was spacious, painted entirely in pristine white with gold accents along the edges.
It closely resembled Damian’s ebony desk in design, differing only in color.
However, in an office furnished in muted, dark tones, the bright white desk was strikingly prominent.
Judging by its style, it was clear Damian had carefully considered her preferences when ordering it.
Touched by the thoughtfulness, Aracila ran her fingers lightly across the surface.
Both of the most out-of-place objects in this room are connected to me.
Damian was someone who disliked letting others into his personal space.
That applied not only to people but also to objects.
And yet, here were two things linked to her, sitting boldly in his office.
And here she was, sitting inside it as well.
It felt strangely like an acknowledgment—that she was the only one allowed to enter his space.
“Damian, if my presence here is uncomfortable or distracting, just say so.”
“And what would you do? Step out?”
“No? I’d kick you out.”
Aracila looked at him as if wondering why he would even ask.
Tapping the desk lightly, she added,
“I like it here. So if anyone has a problem, they should be the one to leave. Let’s agree on that.”
“…Are you aware that this is my office?”
“Don’t be so petty. If you didn’t want me here, you shouldn’t have invited me in the first place. Letting me in was your decision, but leaving is mine.”
Damian let out a short, incredulous laugh.
It was ridiculous—but it was also so like Aracila that he couldn’t even be annoyed.
Instead, he simply rubbed his temple and shook his head.
“…It seems I’ve let a tiger into my den.”
“I have been told I have the eyes of a tiger.”
Shrugging nonchalantly, Aracila took her seat and began organizing her documents and writing materials.
Damian, too, turned back to the report he had been reviewing.
For a while, the room was filled only with the quiet sounds of flipping pages and scratching pens—reminiscent of students studying in a library during exam season.
Their faint breathing blended into the stillness of the space.
Perhaps because they were alone together in an enclosed room, they couldn’t help but be aware of each other.
Damian found himself stealing occasional glances at Aracila, discreetly sipping water to suppress an unnecessary cough.
Meanwhile, Aracila kept running her fingers through her hair, strangely conscious of even the faint screech of her chair moving.
Then, just as Damian was sneaking another glance at her, Aracila looked up at the same time.
Their eyes met.
It was just a brief moment of eye contact—yet it startled them both as if they had been caught doing something wrong.
“Ahem.”
“….”
Damian cleared his throat and quickly averted his gaze, while Aracila turned her head, pretending to adjust her hair.
After that, both of them sat completely still, as if they had been frozen by some kind of spell.
***
Their awareness of each other didn’t last long.
Within days, they had fully adjusted to sharing the space.
They even started meeting in Damian’s office on weekends.
One benefit of this arrangement was that they no longer had to deliberately set aside time for meals.
Since they worked in the same room, they naturally ended up eating together—whether it was lunch, dinner, or a late-night snack.
However, their working hours still differed due to their separate responsibilities.
On weekdays, Aracila typically came home much later than Damian.
But today, it was the opposite.
When Damian finally entered the office late in the evening, he was surprised to see Aracila already at her desk.
“You’re here early.”
“Welcome back, Damian.”
But something was different.
He narrowed his eyes slightly, focusing on the object resting on the bridge of her nose.
“What’s with the glasses?”
They were simple black-rimmed frames, perched neatly on her nose.
He had never seen her wear glasses before, so the sight was unfamiliar.
“Oh, these? They don’t have lenses—it’s just the frame.”
To demonstrate, Aracila removed the glasses and passed her fingers through the empty rims.
Damian looked at her, completely puzzled.
“…If there aren’t any lenses, why are you wearing them?”
“For some reason, I concentrate better when I have them on. I used to wear them during exams back at the Academy.”
She slipped them back on.
Something about the glasses softened her usual sharp, elegant features, giving her a more studious and gentle appearance.
Damian found himself staring as he walked toward his desk.
“I see. Personally, I don’t understand. I’d find them distracting.”
“Hah. That’s exactly what Frederick said too. It’s really not that uncomfortable.”
Aracila mentioned Frederick absentmindedly.
She hadn’t meant to compare them—it was just that Damian’s words had reminded her of something Frederick had once said.
As Damian pulled out his chair, his fingers twitched slightly, and his expression turned unreadable.
His wife recalling someone else in the middle of their conversation—if they were a real married couple, it would have been upsetting. But for a contract couple…
“You must have worn glasses often around His Highness, the Crown Prince.”
The thought nagged at him more than he expected, so he threw the words out casually.
“Well, I studied in the library a lot with Pola and him.”
Aracila responded without much thought, as if Frederick’s name had come up by coincidence rather than any special sentiment.
Realizing he had asked something pointless, Damian clamped his mouth shut.
He had known from the beginning that Aracila and Frederick were friends—why was he acting like this now?
As Damian fell silent, Aracila was the one to speak next.
“Damian, I’ve been wondering—how do you usually sleep in here?”
The office was designed purely for work, stripped of unnecessary furniture, with only a large, rigid black sofa as the sole resting place.
There wasn’t even an adjacent lounge, making her curious about how he managed.
“You’re not laying a blanket on the floor, are you?”
“I just sleep on the sofa.”
“That sofa? Isn’t it uncomfortable?”
“I’m used to it. I’ve slept in far worse conditions.”
Damian’s tone was even and unbothered.
As a former commander who had led an order of knights through countless hardships and marches, he had long since learned not to be picky about sleeping arrangements.
Sleeping on the floor with a simple blanket wouldn’t faze him in the slightest.
Realizing he was genuinely fine with it, Aracila found herself at a loss for words.
Still, it has to be uncomfortable, she thought.
But the thought was fleeting.
Both returned to their respective work, immersed for so long that they lost track of time.
Eventually, feeling stiffness in his neck, Damian tilted his head from side to side to stretch—and then, by chance, glanced at Aracila.
So that’s why it’s been so quiet.
At some point, she had fallen asleep, slumped over her desk.
Soft, even breathing filled the silent room.
The moonlight streaming through the window bathed her face in a pale glow.
Damian frowned slightly upon noticing that she had fallen asleep with her glasses still on.
What if she injures her eyes like that?
Clicking his tongue, he rose from his seat and approached her.
Her face was small enough that his palm could nearly cover it.
Slowly, he reached out, intending to remove her glasses.
But the moment his fingertips brushed the rim of her frames—
Aracila’s hand shot up, gripping his wrist.
“……”
Still hazy from sleep, her blue eyes blinked up at him, unfocused yet searching.
Damian remained still, looking down at her as she gazed up at him.
Their eyes met in the dimly lit room.
Then, slowly, her lips parted.
“Do you want to go to the bedroom?”
“…What?”
Damian was a beat too slow to react.
Aracila’s grip on his wrist tightened slightly as she repeated,
“Let’s go to the bedroom together.”
“What…?”
Startled, Damian yanked his hand free and took a hurried step back.
His ears turned a deep shade of red, as if they had caught fire.
Unaware of the turmoil she had caused, Aracila stretched with a yawn and straightened up.
“What’s wrong? You don’t want to go?”
“…What exactly do you mean by that?”
His wary question made her blink in confusion before responding nonchalantly,
“What else would I mean? Stop sleeping uncomfortably on the office sofa and sleep somewhere better.”
“……”
“The sofa in the bedroom is much softer.”
Hearing her say that with such casual kindness, Damian felt the strength drain from his shoulders.
With a heavy sigh, he ran a hand down his face.
By now more awake, Aracila looked at him, puzzled.
“I’ve been thinking for a while now… You really don’t think before you speak, do you?”
“What? Where is this coming from?”
“Put your hand on your heart and ask yourself if it’s really just me saying things carelessly.”
Looking genuinely indignant, Aracila placed her hand over her chest as if taking an oath.
Meanwhile, Damian simply sighed again and returned to his desk, resuming his work with an exhausted look.
After a long pause, Aracila finally realized how her words could have been… misinterpreted.
She frowned slightly and muttered,
“You know, I’ve been thinking about this too—Damian, you have a dirty mind.”
“…If you’re going to spout nonsense, just go to sleep.”
“Oh, now you’re trying to send me away just because the conversation isn’t in your favor.”
At her smug remark, Damian had no rebuttal.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ✧: *. ꕥ .* :✧ﾟ. ───
