ONE NIGHT STAND WITH HOT DUKE-Chapter 117: The glorified myth

Demian closed his eyes for a moment.

When he opened them again, his decision was made.

"Go," he said to Juan. "Have the carriage prepared."

Juan froze, then his eyes lit with relief. He bowed deeply. "At once, Your Grace."

Demian moved forward again this time not with the stride of a duke leaving a meeting, but of a man who had finally grasped a simple truth, sometimes, what matters most is not what is brought home, but who brings it.

Demian stopped right in front of the bakery and for the first time that morning, he muttered a curse under his breath.

"Damn it..."

The line was long. Far too long. It curved all the way to the corner of the narrow alley, filling the air with the tempting aroma of roasted meat and warm bread ironically making anyone who breathed it in even hungrier.

Juan, standing half a step behind him, bowed slightly. "That is why this bread is so famous, Your Grace," he said quietly. "People are willing to wait for hours just to get one."

Demian clicked his tongue. He glanced at the small hourglass he carried and then, without meaning to, Valerie’s image rose in his mind again. Her pale face. Her sharp tone born of weakness. The small request he had dismissed.

He stepped forward.

And that was when everything stopped.

Heads turned one by one. Whispers broke out. The air seemed to freeze when they recognized the tall figure with unmistakable silver hair and crimson eyes standing among them.

Duke Morvex.

The great one. The feared one. A name powerful enough to make a city bow.

People exchanged glances, then moved on instinct stepping aside, lowering their heads, clearing a path. Some looked almost panicked, as though even breathing too loudly might offend him.

Demian saw it all and instead of stepping forward to take advantage of their fear, he raised his hand.

"No," he said firmly.

He turned to Asher, who had come with him. "Tell them," he ordered, his voice calm and clear, "that I will treat everyone today if they are willing to give me their place in line."

Asher relayed the message.

Silence followed.

Some people looked at one another. Some hesitated. A few shook their heads. An elderly man shrugged. "There’s no need, Your Grace," he said politely but honestly. "We’ve already waited a long time. It wouldn’t be fair to the others."

Others nodded. They refused not out of bravery, but because this line was one of the few small things they owned today.

Demian exhaled slowly. He looked at the line once more then spoke flatly, without threat or force,

"Then... I will give each of you one pouch of gold."

The words landed like a stone in still water.

Faces that had been uncertain changed instantly. Eyes widened. Whispers erupted again, this time in disbelief. No one needed long to think.

One pouch of gold.

Each.

No one let an opportunity like that pass.

They stepped aside quickly this time not out of fear, but out of mutual benefit. Asher moved efficiently, distributing the gold pouches as promised. The atmosphere lightened, nearly festive.

Juan watched Demian with a mixture of awe and confusion. He knew the duke could have carved a path through this crowd, taken the bread without a word. No one would have dared stop him.

But Demian did not. 𝚏𝐫𝚎𝗲𝕨𝐞𝐛𝕟𝚘𝐯𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝗺

He stood calmly, waiting his turn, his gaze fixed on the bakery door that finally opened for him.

One meat bread, he thought.

Not worth blood. Not worth fear.

And more than that not worth losing the meaning he was chasing today.

To the world, this was just a famous bread from a narrow alley.

To Valerie, it was presence.

And to Demian, for the first time, that presence was worth paying dearly for.

Demian returned to the castle as the sun began to lean westward.

Thin traces of snow still clung between the stones of the road, yet the air felt lighter than it had when he left. The parcel of meat bread rested in his hand warm, solid, undeniably real and somehow it made his steps feel different. He had carried home blood-stained weapons, sealed royal documents, even decisions that determined the lives of thousands. None of those had ever tightened his chest the way this did.

When the door to Valerie’s chamber opened, the soft creak of the hinges sounded far too loud in his ears.

Valerie sat in a chair near the window, afternoon light filtering in and settling gently over her hair. An open book lay in her lap, yet from the way her fingers had stilled, it was clear she had not been reading for some time. She lifted her face slowly and blinked once, twice.

As if she needed to make sure the man standing there was truly Demian.

Color rose immediately to her cheeks.

Not bright. Not obvious. Just a faint flush spreading from her cheeks to the tips of her ears subtle, yet unmistakable to eyes trained to notice the smallest changes.

He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. There was no greeting. No question. He simply walked closer and then without even realizing it himself knelt in front of her.

Level with her.

Not as Duke Morvex. Not as a ruler known for cold blood and ruthless reputation. Just a man who had returned with something she had asked for.

"Are you happy now?" he asked quietly.

Valerie looked at him for a few seconds, then gave a small nod. The movement was gentle, almost shy.

Demian watched it longer than he should have.

"Happy... to see me?" he continued, his voice low, almost teasing yet something fragile hid beneath it.

Valerie gave a small snort and turned her face slightly away. "Of course not," she answered quickly, as if trying to seal away a feeling that nearly escaped. "I wanted the bread."

Demian went silent.

That answer should have been simple. It should have meant nothing. And yet he saw how Valerie’s fingers tightened around the book in her lap a small sign that she was lying, or at least not being entirely honest.

He lifted the parcel in his hand slightly.

"You want to eat this?" he asked.

Valerie nodded immediately, without hesitation.

"Why?" Demian asked again. "Why this one?"

The question slipped out before he could stop it. He was not sure why he wanted the answer or perhaps he knew, and was afraid of it.

Valerie turned back to him. Her eyes met Demian’s red gaze calm, deep, waiting.

"Because you bought it," she said softly. "And you brought it."