I Became the Heroine’s Stand-in

Diana had never shared a room with another person in her life. And now, she was expected to spend the night with a man she had only just met—not even a relative, but a complete stranger.

“…You are fully aware that we are of opposite sexes, correct?”

It was a petty question, her last resort in resisting the situation.

“I find it surprising that you feel the need to point that out, considering we will be married in three months.”

“…And you should also acknowledge that we are both under the influence of alcohol and not in a completely rational state of mind.”

She raised a finger as if instructing him to take note of this fact.

“Thank you for reminding me of something I had momentarily forgotten.”

Ersivan responded with feigned sincerity, gently folding her finger back down as if conceding to her words.

“I’m glad you understand. So, in that case, perhaps for tonight—”

“But does that even matter?”

“You just said you understood!”

It was, quite literally, just an act.

For a fleeting moment, Diana had let her guard down, relieved that she had gotten through to him—only to be pulled right back into his game.

Realizing she had been toyed with, Diana raised her voice in frustration.

“But isn’t this a separate matter altogether?”

“…And why do you think that?”

“Then why do you insist on placing those facts together as if they are one and the same?”

Instead of answering her question, he responded with one of his own, as though he truly didn’t understand her reasoning.

Why?

Because it was common sense that two intoxicated individuals of opposite sexes spending the night together in an enclosed space was a dangerous situation.

“Well, that’s….”

Yet, even though it was an unspoken rule, saying it aloud felt too mortifying.

Seeing her at a loss for words, Ersivan chuckled softly.

“I trust you were not indulging in any inappropriate fantasies regarding me.”

“…Of course not. Absolutely not. Never.”

“Then there is no issue, is there?”

With a look of mock relief, Ersivan stepped closer. As the distance between them shrank, so did the space between their breaths.

Their proximity became so narrow that if either of them moved even slightly, their noses would touch.

He lowered his head toward the candle she was holding, exhaling lightly.

A pale wisp of air scattered into the darkness. The flame flickered once—then went out.

“Ah, my mistake.”

Ersivan declared it an accident, though his expression and tone suggested otherwise.

“Now that you can’t see anything, you won’t be able to wander around.”

“…….”

“It would be dangerous to move around without light, after all….”

His breath brushed against the skin near her neck, sending a faint tickle down her spine.

At that moment, something warm and wet dripped onto her collarbone. In the darkness, she couldn’t tell whether it was water from his damp hair or melted candle wax.

If it had been wax, the heat would have made her cry out in pain. But the warmth lingering on her skin was enough to leave a dull, tingling sensation.

“So, why not rest for a while before you go?”

Taking advantage of her momentary distraction, Ersivan swiftly plucked the candlestick from her grasp. It was casually placed on the table behind him, leaving her empty-handed.

And in the absence of light, the devil’s temptation crept closer.

A low voice, thick with suggestion, drifted into her ear.

In the dead of night, Diana had lost her only source of illumination, all because of his so-called “mistake.” And wandering through an unfamiliar place in complete darkness would be nothing short of reckless.

“…Of course, he planned all of this. That cunning man.”

Diana glanced at Ersivan, barely visible in the dimness.

Unlike other noblemen, Ersivan Valencia was different. He despised her, so there was no risk of anything truly improper happening.

It was merely an inconvenience.

“…Fine. I suppose stumbling through the halls in the dark, feeling my way along the walls in search of another room, wouldn’t be very wise.”

“Exactly.”

“Truly, I must thank a certain someone for sparing me the trouble.”

Diana’s voice carried a rare note of sarcasm.

Rather than being offended, Ersivan seemed amused by her reaction.

“Goodness, I should ask for that person’s name. Such generosity should be rewarded handsomely by the duchy.”

“I doubt that person expects any sort of reward, so I’ll decline on their behalf.”

“How can you be so sure that the infamous man in question desires no compensation?”

He truly had no intention of backing down. His smirk, paired with the slight shrug of his shoulders, was infuriatingly smug.

Diana narrowed her eyes at him, shooting him a sharp glare—though, given her naturally gentle features, it lacked any real intensity.

Realizing how ineffective it was, she quickly masked her expression.

“…If we’re going in, let’s go already.”

“A gentleman would be remiss if he did not oblige a lady’s request.”

Turning on his heel, Ersivan strode forward before extending his arm behind him. It was an offer.

“You wouldn’t want to feel your way along the walls, would you? Hold onto me instead.”

“The door is within arm’s reach. I can manage without your help.”

“I should hope you wouldn’t trample over a gentleman’s goodwill so mercilessly.”

“This isn’t a request—it’s an order.”

“Hmm, but what if it were a request?”

It wasn’t.

Diana muttered under her breath, just loud enough for herself to hear.

She wasn’t a child clinging to a parent, nor was she someone who needed to hold hands just because it was dark.

The distance from where she stood to the bed was no more than ten steps. In other words, it was quite literally within arm’s reach.

“Are you truly not going to take my hand?”

Her weak protest, thrown into the air like a final attempt at defiance, vanished without a trace.

Of course. The moment he extended his hand, she no longer had a choice.

There was no way she—Diana—could refuse an order from none other than Ersivan Valencia.

Taking advantage of the darkness, she scrunched up her face in frustration before reluctantly placing her hand in his.

“Cold.”

The hand she grasped, though firm, was as cool as the early morning breeze in summer.

And how large it was. Even as she merely held onto his fingers, his palm easily covered most of her own.

“Come to think of it, this is a first.”

As they walked in silence, a realization struck her—she had never held someone’s hand before.

Not in a genuine way, at least. Any hand she had ever taken belonged to the Count or Countess, and even those moments had been mere formalities.

“It feels… strange.”

So this is what it felt like.

A peculiar, ticklish sensation settled in her chest. Diana coughed lightly, trying to shake it off.

Placing her free hand over her heart, she noted that, at some point, her slow and steady heartbeat had begun to race.

“He, on the other hand, must feel nothing.”

Despite herself, she stole a glance at Ersivan, curious about his reaction.

By chance, the moonlight spilling through the window illuminated him.

The silver glow settled over his midnight-black hair, casting an ethereal, almost aurora-like sheen.

Below, his steps were deliberately measured—matching her pace, slowing down for her.

“Is he truly unaffected?”

Curious, Diana squeezed his hand suddenly, pressing her fingers more firmly against his.

For a fleeting moment, his left foot twitched.

Was that another one of his calculated acts, or had it been an involuntary reaction? The thought intrigued her.

Like a fledgling following its mother, they walked into the room hand in hand.

Seizing an opportunity, Diana discreetly slipped her hand free.

Yet, as she hesitated near the threshold, uncertain whether to step inside fully, Ersivan spoke up.

“Why are you hesitating?”

Growing impatient, he reached out once more, guiding her inside with a slight nod of his head.

Finally, she stepped in.

Now standing in the center of the room, Diana took in her surroundings.

Even craning her neck and turning from side to side, the space was too large to fully take in at a glance.

Everything about it exuded luxury—from the ivory Chesterfield sofa to the small, gem-encrusted table.

Antique treasures, the kind one would expect to see at an auction, were casually displayed throughout the room.

She had suspected it before, but now she was certain—the ducal estate’s wealth far surpassed that of the Mernaard household.

It was remarkable. A family barely over a decade old was wealthier than the esteemed House Mernaard.

Of course, royal funding had played a role. But the true reason was Ersivan himself.

He had used the funds to launch businesses, all of which had succeeded spectacularly. He had honed his swordsmanship and single-handedly bolstered military strength.

A man who always defied conventional limits.

“Now, where am I supposed to sleep?”

She understood that she would be sleeping in this extravagant room.

However, despite the abundance of furniture, there was only one bed.

An uneasy feeling crept over her.

“By the way, Evan, I wanted to ask—”

“Lili, let’s make a bet.”

Ersivan cut her off before she could finish.

He was remarkably skilled at seizing control of a conversation.

Though she found his interruption irritating, his proposition was so unexpected that she forgot whatever it was she had intended to say.

“A bet? About what?”

“Whether or not you will end up staying in this room tonight.”

“…Are you seriously making that the subject of a bet?”

“It’s merely the topic. The real wager is something else… But I hesitate to say it, lest it frighten you.”

Ersivan was always unreadable.

If he truly thought his wager would startle her, he should have refrained from making the bet in the first place.

“Tell me anyway.”

“Tonight, you will sleep in my bed.”

“…The same bed as you.”

“Yes.”

His eyes curved into crescent moons, as bright and deceivingly innocent as the morning sun.

“And what, exactly, is the bet?”

Diana had experienced this before—how irrational human psychology could be.

Why was it that, despite sensing danger, she didn’t retreat?

Because of that cursed curiosity, she found herself unable to refuse.

And so, she gave him not one, but two chances.