Sighing, Visana gazed at her daughter's enthusiasm. "You are such an idiot," she muttered, shaking her head. Yet, despite her reservations, she picked up the pen and signed her name under both guardian marks, biting her lip at the thought of having to confront the man who had dared to kiss his mother-in-law.

"Here. By the way, why do you love him?" Visana asked after signing, genuinely curious about the qualities Emilia saw in that seemingly worthless idiot who had captured her heart.

"Thanks," Emilia replied, her excitement momentarily sweeping aside her mother's questions. She glanced at the signed sections of the document and impulsively blurted out, "He's very good in bed."

"Wh-what—?" Visana stammered, caught off guard by her daughter's unexpected confession. Just as she prepared to ask for more clarification, the door to the room swung open.

"What's going on in here?" Damien entered the room, his eyes settling on Emilia, who was perched on the edge of a table, enthusiasm radiating from her.

Visana sat on the hospital bed, her soft expression marred by a frown, and both women turned their attention toward him.

"Damien? Come here," Emilia called, gesturing for him to approach. He nodded and walked closer, his hands tucked into his pants pockets. When he glanced at Visana, she shot him a cold glare that he chose to ignore as he focused his gaze on Emilia.

"What happened? And what is that?" Damien feigned ignorance, noticing the document in Emilia's hand.

He suspected it was the guardian proof she obtained after getting her mother's signature, not that it presented much of a problem for him—he could easily sign it and assure Emilia of his commitment.

"Sign it," Emilia urged, her eyes locking onto his with a determination that brooked no arguments. She seemed to implore him to sign it immediately. With a sigh, he took the pen and signed the document.

"Done," Damien said, handing the signed paper back to her. He then turned his attention to Visana, who showed no surprise at the fact that he had signed the marriage certificate, indicating his readiness to officially marry Emilia. He added, "We need to contact the board of directors. The situation in the company is deteriorating."

Ignoring the weight of the moment, he concentrated on the immediate problem at hand. With just two or three days before he had to leave for the Main City—having already spent far too much time in this place—he knew he couldn't afford to waste another minute.

"I'll take care of it myself," Visana declared as she stood up from the bed and headed toward the bathroom. Emilia followed suit, taking Damien's hand as she led him out of the room. She felt that Damien's nonchalant attitude toward the marriage certificate and his inclination to tackle the company's issues suggested that she would likely be leaving sooner than he intended.

"Follow me," Emilia pulled him along, not looking back as they exited the room. Damien kept his gaze fixed on her, feeling some relief that he wouldn't need to intervene in the company matters—her mother was more than capable of handling that.

"Are you planning to leave soon?" Emilia asked, approaching a crowded room. She playfully pushed Damien against the wall, her expression a mix of curiosity and mischief.

"Yes, as you can see, most of my work is wrapped up here," Damien replied, his gaze locked onto hers. His voice dropped to a lower tone as he maintained that intense eye contact.

The atmosphere felt stifled, almost electric, as the inevitable transition loomed.

They were in a square of sorts—this space marked the boundary between the familiar yet modest Camprian City and the bustling main city, where the true narrative would unfold.

In Camprian City, most of the families residing there were tied to local businesses that catered to the citizens.

Their headquarters and assets were concentrated within this smaller community, creating a tightly-knit environment. In contrast, the main city was home to the wealthiest families, where opulence and influence reigned supreme.

Here, in Camprian, only a handful of families held prominence, one being the notable Crimwell family, whose dealings and reputations echoed through the streets.

In the bustling heart of the city, influential families like the Lin family and the Harrisons coexisted alongside others, such as the Raphaels.

Among them, Damien often found himself ensnared in a repetitive cycle, perpetually pursuing Amelia Crimwell, which ultimately left him confined within the Camprian house.

"....I see," Emilia said, cradling her elbow in one hand and glancing down at the page in front of her.

Surprisingly, she felt no pang of sadness; she had grown accustomed to his behavior, which resembled that of a womanizer—someone who sought fleeting pleasures and then vanished without a trace.

This was precisely why she had secured his official signature on their marriage certificate.

"You can come by any time you want, but I hope that the next time I see you, it's in front of my cash ATM," Damien shamelessly remarked, his finger caressing her chin as he made it clear that he expected her to earn enough money to indulge his whims.

"Tch, you're such a bastard," Emilia muttered softly, barely above a whisper. She refused to look him in the eye, knowing how meticulously he had arranged his appearance just to convey his intentions, not even making an effort to disguise them.

"A bastard? Oh, I could show you just how much of one I really am," Damien countered, using his knuckles to lift her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze.

His eyes locked onto hers with an intensity that made her heart race, while she glared back at him, her expression betraying her clear dissatisfaction and resentment toward him for abandoning her after everything they had shared.

Damien's grin widened, his voice low and commanding, "Kneel, Emilia."

Emilia's face flushed, her breath quickening. "Why?" she managed to whisper, her mind racing as she recalled the scenes from certain adult videos, where the command seemed all too familiar.

The small, confined room heightened her awareness of the moment, her heart pounding as Damien's thumb slid from her chin to her lips, brushing against them with deliberate pressure.

He leaned closer, his breath warm against her skin. "Because," he murmured, his voice dripping with control, "I want you to remember me... by the taste I leave on your body."