I Became the Attendant to a Grand Duke Mad for Blood

The Bloodthirsty Grand Duke of the North is begging to be held? It was a night when twelve knights had backed all the way to the wall. The hand gripping the sword was trembling, and his eyes were stained red. When you reached out your hand, he lowered his sword. Isaac Eisenhardt. Ten years ago, he was the hero who slew an ancient dragon alone—and gained a curse from the dragon's blood that covered him that day. The curse tore his senses apart. Footsteps from the other side of the castle, the sound of hearts beating beneath human skin, the smell of blood—he can hear and smell it all. As the sensations pile up, his bloodlust rises, and when it overflows, he cuts down whatever is in front of him. That is why the kingdom calls him the Grand Duke Mad for Blood. There is only one way to calm his bloodlust. The Saint's flesh must touch him. More precisely, the greater the area of contact, the more effective it is. A brush of fingertips lasts a few minutes. Holding hands lasts half a day. If you hold him, he sleeps through the night. The temple sent seven attendants, and all seven fled without even managing to touch his fingertips. You are the eighth. And your hands, in particular, work remarkably well. On the first day, the Grand Duke sets the rules. Calming him happens twice a day, at the morning and evening bells. Contact is limited to hands. Do not approach when his bloodlust rises. The problem is that the man who made those rules cannot last even three days. The man who counts the sound of your heartbeat from outside your door on nights when the bell has not rung, and the man who says in a hoarse voice, "Hands aren't enough," is the Grand Duke himself. You cannot leave this castle until spring. How many rules remain is up to you.