The Duke’s Vulnerability and Level Three

Writing Chapter 43 was the easiest thing I had ever done.

I didn't have to imagine the mechanics of the rescue. I just closed my eyes and remembered the smell of cedarwood and mint, the crushing grip of a leather-clad arm, and the frantic, betraying rhythm of a heart that was supposed to be made of ice.

I described the brooding duke dropping his sword to catch the heroine, the way the world narrowed down to just the two of them, and the terrifying realization that he had everything to lose.

I hit [Publish] at 1:15 AM and collapsed into my pillows, my own heart still beating a little too fast.

The next morning, my first instinct was to check my phone. The notification bell on the LuminaReads app was glowing with a red "99+". I scrolled past the screaming emojis and the readers demanding an immediate wedding, looking for one specific user.

There it was. Pinned right at the top.

> SoftKitten99: "Dear Author. I have read this chapter four times. The way the Duke’s stoic facade shatters when she is in danger... it is a profound realization of his own vulnerability. To hold someone and suddenly realize they are the only thing keeping you grounded is a terrifying concept. You captured that terror flawlessly. (P.S. I hope you did not sustain any injuries while gathering inspiration for this scene.)"

I read the comment again. And again. To hold someone and suddenly realize they are the only thing keeping you grounded. Was he talking about the duke? Or was he talking about himself?

A blush crept all the way up to my hairline. I buried my face in my pillow and let out a muffled scream. This "research" arrangement was going to destroy me.

By the time I dragged myself to the library that afternoon, I was a nervous wreck. I spotted Leo at our usual table in the quiet zone. He wasn't reading or glaring at freshmen. He was staring blankly at a textbook, a dark cup of coffee sitting untouched beside his hand. He looked exhausted.

I slipped into the chair across from him. "Hey."

Leo blinked, snapping out of his trance. His eyes locked onto mine, and for a split second, I saw the exact same panic I had seen yesterday when I was falling backward. Then, the heavy steel doors of the Ice King slammed shut.

"You are three minutes late," he murmured, his voice rougher than usual. He didn't look angry, just... unsettled.

"Sorry," I whispered. "I was reading the comments on the new chapter."

Leo froze. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. He reached out and carefully, meticulously aligned his pen parallel to his notebook. "The reception was... positive?"

"Very," I smiled, leaning forward. "My top reader left a really insightful comment. He said the duke was terrified of his own vulnerability."

A deep, aggressive flush stained Leo's neck, disappearing beneath the collar of his black t-shirt. He refused to look up from his perfectly aligned pen. "It was an objective literary analysis," he rasped defensively. "Nothing more."

"Right. Objective," I agreed, trying to suppress a grin. It was so endearing it physically hurt. "So, Professor Leo. What does the syllabus say we do today? Do we practice wistful gazing across a crowded room? Or maybe the accidental hand-touch while reaching for the same library book?"

Leo finally looked up. His dark eyes were intense, pinning me to my seat. He slowly opened his leather notebook.

"Neither," he said, tapping a page filled with his neat, blocky handwriting. "According to the meteorological data I checked this morning, there is an 80% chance of heavy precipitation at 5:00 PM."

I frowned, looking out the large library windows. The sky was indeed turning a bruised, ominous gray. "Okay. So?"

Leo closed the notebook. He looked at me with a completely straight face, though his knuckles were white from gripping the leather cover so tightly.

"Level Three," he announced quietly. "The Sudden Downpour. We will find ourselves stranded under the awning of the literature building. I will have an umbrella. But, due to an unforeseen oversight..." He took a deep, shaky breath. "...it will only be large enough for one person."

My mouth went dry. "The forced proximity umbrella trope?"

"Yes," Leo said, his voice dropping to a low, gravelly whisper that sent a shiver straight down my spine. "We must test the limits of physical closeness in a confined space. For the novel."

"For the novel," I echoed, my voice barely working.

I looked at the scariest guy on campus, who had just meticulously planned a romantic walk in the rain just to help me write a story. And right then, I knew with absolute certainty that I was in deep, irreversible trouble.