Chapter 22

How dare she burst into tears when her master kissed her. She deserved to be punished. If it had been Sir Endymion or Sir Kirion, they would have whipped the girl’s thighs with a riding crop. But Larque simply waited until she stopped crying. The girl soon stopped crying and slowly backed away. Larque pulled her back again and made her stand before him.

 A servant girl who didn’t meet her master’s eyes was useless. A servant girl who didn’t beg her master for pleasure was worthless. This young thing was his woman. She should naturally love him. Like Endymion’s Marie…… Suddenly, Larque thought of his cousin’s skinny servant girl. Unlike Ella, Endymion had had a servant girl since childhood.

 Endymion would frequently grab that child, kiss her lips, and caress her back. Yet Marie never burst into tears. But this girl reddened her eyes and fluttered like a sick chicken whenever her master tried to hold her.

 Not wanting to make her cry, he had kept her in the kitchen for months. But wasn’t she his girl? He didn’t want her to get her hands wet. He just wanted to keep her in the side room next to his and look at her. Like a doll that Larien carried in her arms.

 He wanted to make silk dresses for her, change them several times a day, and then hold her in his arms. But she didn’t want him. Whenever she caught sight of him, she ran away with a disgusted face. It was a situation where his lust could only dry up. How could he feel desire watching a frightened child running away? Two months after receiving a servant girl as a gift from his father. He felt crushed. At times, a pain arose as if a part of his heart was being cut.

 ‘Young Master Gwendel’s servant girl has been with the young master since they were very young, hasn’t she? I believe the girl’s mother was Marquis Gwendel’s servant girl? The two must have been close since they were very young. That young servant girl is the offspring of an immoral act her mother committed while avoiding the Marquis’s eyes……’

 Hermel smiled lightly with his eyes. The shrewd butler was relaxed.

 ‘Someday, she will ask for your favor first.’

 Hermel murmured as if to say wait and see. Larque didn’t respond. It was a time when his nerves, blunt from birth, had become extremely sensitive because of a girl the size of a bean. He turned his gaze to look at the girl who was hiding behind a pillar, peeking at him. It annoyed him that she kept circling around him without any intention of coming closer. He was wearing himself out wanting something he couldn’t have.

 “May I touch you?”

 It was a quiet voice. Ella, who had been looking at the high ceiling, turned her eyes. The girl’s eyes were like colored glass. Ella had no answer. She just stared blankly. It wasn’t even as if she was examining him or watching for his reaction. He remembered the commotion at noon when she had been like an abandoned cat. Whether her strength had waned or not, Ella was defenseless. She murmured weakly.

 “…… Where?”

 “Your forehead.”

 Ella nodded. It meant he could touch her forehead. He placed the back of his hand on her small forehead. She had a slight fever. Though the doctor had said it was a minor bruise, it wasn’t minor. It couldn’t be compared to the battlefield. The battlefield was a place where one had to kill to avoid being killed. And San Parvale wasn’t a battlefield. In his castle, Ella had been kicked in the solar plexus. She had been slapped hard like a lowborn girl caught by a street thug. Eventually, she lost consciousness and was carried on someone’s back.

 It was incomparable. It wasn’t a wound that could be definitively called minor. He recalled the girl who had been gasping like a rag. One day. She had been unconscious for a full day. He had worried what if she died. Although the doctor had asserted she wouldn’t die. The girl was too fragile. She was a child who couldn’t endure any kind of violence. In fact, that’s why Larque couldn’t raise a whip against her. How could he subdue and train this delicate thing when she seemed like she would crumble and die before a riding crop even touched her thigh?

 “Go to sleep now.”

 “But this is your bed, master. It’s your bedroom.”

 “Do you want to go back to the hovel?”

 He quietly asked in return. Ella just pulled the blanket up to the tip of her nose. Her large eyes closed gently. Soon, the sound of her gasping breath echoed at regular intervals.

 *** 

 Vic was thinking about her dead husband. ‘Al,’ that is. A man who was thinner and more slender than her, despite being her husband. Though he lived with the insult of being called a weakling, Al was her eternal husband. Clutching her aching stomach, she wiped her forehead. Her skin, beaded with cold sweat, was damp and slippery. Somewhere, a rat squeaked. Her stomach churned. This was her first time in the dungeon. In her lifetime, she had never thought about dying at her master’s hands. The Duke would probably consider her life less valuable than a cockroach’s. Nevertheless, Vic still couldn’t forget that short girl.

 Like Al, all men liked that girl. Not just the Duke, but all the males in the castle admired her. The boy who took over the gardener’s job after Al died. The old stable keeper who looked after the Duke’s horses. Soldiers and servants. Old men and children. The girl’s beauty made everything useless regardless of status and age.

 And all servant girls were like that. Typically, all those women were that kind of breed. Even when raising water, they were beautiful, but a woman who lost her husband would never understand. She would never understand even a little bit about a life of being shunned for being ugly. Her teeth ground together.

 She hated Cecil. So it goes without saying that she hated that girl. She wasn’t a child. If she were a child, she couldn’t squint her eyes like that and close her lips. I should have beaten her more. Made her into a complete mess so she couldn’t even open her eyes properly. Controlling her strength was a mistake. Vic angrily pounded the wall.

 “Huh?”

 Suddenly, she heard the sound of the iron door creaking open. Had she failed to hear the footsteps because she was busy punching the wall? A chill slowly ran down her spine. Vic swallowed dryly and looked ahead. Fortunately, it wasn’t the Duke.

 “Drag her out.”

 Hermel’s monotonous voice moved the strong men standing on either side of him. Vic backed away toward the wall, turning pale. But she couldn’t stop the strong men from grabbing her. Hermel instructed them to bind the struggling woman. The strong men tied the woman’s arms and then put a black mask on her. The woman was dragged out of the cell, making sounds like a pig.

 “Hermel! Hermel, I was wrong! Forgive, forgive me!”

 Vic cried. The butler merely left the corridor with upright steps. Eventually, they reached a small, narrow room. The high window, tall enough that even an adult man wouldn’t close it, was old but blocked by thick bars, and it seemed that only sunlight and wind could pass through the gaps. Hermel nodded to the strong men. Then the man holding one of Vic’s arms kicked her legs, making her kneel.

 The mask was removed. Vic hurriedly inhaled. Her heart was beating so fast that it felt like it would burst out at any moment. She raised her head with a face wet with tears. A groan escaped as the place where she had been hit throbbed. She blinked and stared ahead.

 “How dare a lowborn woman have such audacity!”

 One of the men who had been binding her struck the back of her head hard. Her gaze immediately fell to the floor, but Vic habitually raised her head again. Even though confirming who it was might not change much, Vic wanted to identify the person.

 “Spare, spare my life.”

 Before her tear-blurred vision could clear, she moved her lips. Her voice flowed like a prayer, sounding unsightly, but if she didn’t do that, she might have her throat cut.

 “Spare, my life. Please, please never again……”

 “I will spare you.”

 It was a definite and smooth voice. Vic confirmed him while gauging the times when she couldn’t even dare to hold her master’s voice in her ears. A figure was clearly formed in her hazy vision.

 “Your Highness……”

 It was a call like a sigh. The Duke, seen up close, was a much younger handsome man. Though covered in thick, high-quality fabric, it was insufficient to hide the movement of firm and smooth muscles underneath. The man took two steps. Like a black beast moving through the bushes, he made no sound.

 “Spare, spare……”

 Vic couldn’t continue her words. She just stared blankly at him. The contours revealed under the transparent sunlight overwhelmed every being in the stone room and more. Wouldn’t even the kingdom’s monarch become as lowly as Vic in front of him? Brilliant yet overwhelming, arrogant yet intense. It was a beautiful exterior. To the point where one’s eyes might go blind…… Everything was complete and perfect. The black hair shining evenly under the sunlight and the white face, cold eyes like the heart of eternal snow, the gray of the north, the contours of nobility, those distinct shadows, even the downcast gaze seemed to be imbued with divine harmony.

 “Your Highness! Your Highness! That girl first…… I, I just wanted to pun, punish her.”

 “I said I would spare you.”

 Breathing was difficult. Vic couldn’t believe the Duke’s words that he would spare her. His gray eyes were like the edge of a blade. The edge of that day was enough to cut her throat and more. So she needed confirmation.