“Then, does that mean you want me to just take care of your body?”
It was a low hum. It was more like a warning than a question. Else couldn't say anything under his gaze that was fixed on her. Her eyes were stinging. Else clenched her trembling fingers.
“If you wish, I will ask for His Excellency’s understanding and do so.”
"I am..."
She couldn't bend her tongue. Ian waited for Else's answer in a servant-like posture. But she couldn't open her lips. Only her shoulders trembled with chills. Ian, who was looking at her, rang the bell. Soon after, the maids came into the bedroom.
“Bring me some water to wash Young Lady's body.”
Ian used to command them. He was a man who was used to commanding people without being taught. He was like this from the beginning. From the moment they first met, he was more like a master than a servant. The way he commanded the maids with his fingertips was a habit that had not rusted from someone who had ruled for a long time.
It was a low hum. It was more like a warning than a question. Else couldn't say anything under his gaze that was fixed on her. Her eyes were stinging. Else clenched her trembling fingers.
“If you wish, I will ask for His Excellency’s understanding and do so.”
"I am..."
She couldn't bend her tongue. Ian waited for Else's answer in a servant-like posture. But she couldn't open her lips. Only her shoulders trembled with chills. Ian, who was looking at her, rang the bell. Soon after, the maids came into the bedroom.
“Bring me some water to wash Young Lady's body.”
Ian used to command them. He was a man who was used to commanding people without being taught. He was like this from the beginning. From the moment they first met, he was more like a master than a servant. The way he commanded the maids with his fingertips was a habit that had not rusted from someone who had ruled for a long time.
Else looked at the man who looked as if he was wearing an elegant dress shirt even though he was wearing an old shirt, and then averted her gaze.
The quick maids brought a bowl of water and a towel and placed it in front of him. Ian soaked the towel and squeezed it out. Then he knelt down on one knee in front of Else and began to wipe her feet. He wiped the tops of her feet and between her toes with the wet towel. Else watched him carefully wipe her ankles and ankle bones.
Ian was affectionate. Sometimes, so soft and gentle that it was hard to grasp. It was as if he was her lover alone as if she possessed him alone. That was confusing. That was why she couldn't let him go. It occurred to her that maybe she could have affectionate Ian. In fact, she had never had him for even a moment...
The quick maids brought a bowl of water and a towel and placed it in front of him. Ian soaked the towel and squeezed it out. Then he knelt down on one knee in front of Else and began to wipe her feet. He wiped the tops of her feet and between her toes with the wet towel. Else watched him carefully wipe her ankles and ankle bones.
Ian was affectionate. Sometimes, so soft and gentle that it was hard to grasp. It was as if he was her lover alone as if she possessed him alone. That was confusing. That was why she couldn't let him go. It occurred to her that maybe she could have affectionate Ian. In fact, she had never had him for even a moment...
The wet towel wiped her calves and rubbed her knees.
Next was between her closed thighs. Else awkwardly spread her legs apart. Her cheeks were flushed. The awkward position seemed to make them flush even more. Ian, who saw her, sat down on the bed and made Else sit on his thighs.
She felt the firm thigh muscles. Else tried not to get excited, thinking back on what he had said earlier. He had asked if she wanted him to just take care of her body. With those eyes... Else’s heart was crushed. The wet towel wiped away her sticky skin.
Her eyes fell on her swollen skin. Else tried not to blush anymore. It wasn't that she didn't want to blush at the man who had insulted her, but because she didn't want to look funny to Ian. It would be funny if the woman he had insulted blushed again at a few touches.
“Does it hurt?”
Else didn't answer. Ian looked up from where he had been working the night before. Else groped for air so as not to look at him.
“I will call the doctor.”
“It doesn’t hurt.”
In fact, she was hurt. But if she said she was hurt, Ian wouldn't hold her. No matter how much she nagged and whined, she knew he wouldn't hold her. She had already been through a lot. If she said she was hurt, even if Else held the vase in her hand, he wouldn't move.
The fingers holding the wet towel poked the swollen spot. It was the place where a bruise would form before half a day had passed. The flesh that had been poked flinched and trembled. Eyes like blades turned to Else. She met his gaze while biting her lips. She would beg to be held tonight too. Tomorrow night too, and the night after tomorrow... She would beg to be held until his body odor did not dissipate.
“I’ll bring some ointment.”
"...Here, here, you didn’t clean it.”
She pointed to her chest and shoulders. His gaze, scanning her skin, red and tinged with scars, was cold. He pressed his lips together. It seemed as if he was telling her to take care of that much. However, Else stubbornly exposed her skin. He moved his hand again. The hand that wiped her chest and shoulders was still gentle.
When the wet towel passed over the area and became fluffy, he applied ointment. Else spread her legs and showed him the swollen area. The reddened skin reminded her of the love affair last night. It wasn’t about how coldly Ian had held her.
It was natural for Ian to look at her like that. Hugging an unwanted woman is rape. Rape is the most disgusting thing in the world. So Ian must be enduring the most disgusting thing while holding Else. Because Else raped Ian. Because Else wanted to get him... Even though she knew it was wrong, she violated Ian. In that way. Yes. She knows she can never be loved in that way. Still...
“Come tonight too.”
Ian put her down on the bed. Else, who had escaped Ian's embrace, quickly opened her mouth. He turned around and looked down at her. Every spot on her skin that he had looked at tingled. Still, Else reached out to him. She turned him around and clung to him as she had done the first time. It was Else's way of possessing him. Whether he wanted her or not.
“You have to come tonight too.”
It didn't matter anymore. She knew it couldn't be recovered now. Else would never win Ian's heart. Ian would never love Else. Yes. Ever. Never. So... Ian's heart didn't matter. If it was a relationship with a set time limit, if it wasn't going to end, Else was going to cling to him desperately. Then she thought she wouldn't have any regrets when she died. Even if she died giving birth to a child from a man she barely knew, she thought she could live her life caressing the little thing he had given her until it was worn out.
“You have to hug me tonight too.”
A muffled whisper echoed softly through the bedroom. Ian turned around. He threw the towel he was holding onto the table. It was the towel he had used to wipe Else. She felt it with wet eyes as if it were hers.
Lugdun. Northwest of Travasta. Unlike the vast borders of the Marquis of Aperato, the territory is surrounded by poor soil and rugged mountain ranges that make farming difficult. It is a barren land surrounded by deep valleys and hills, except for some crops such as barley and sugar beets. Most of the people live off of livestock farming and fishing. Although the territory itself does not produce minerals, minerals constantly come from neighboring Lotan and Anatoly, and the only one who can transport them is Viscount Roate of Lugdun, so the Viscount used the income from transporting minerals using the bay to run the territory.
Perhaps, if Viscount Roate had been a little more ambitious and passionate, he would have devoted himself to developing a trading port using the bay, but the Viscount was a gentleman who, except for a very short period in his youth, lived a frugal life, content with what was given to him.
Even if he had worked hard and made his land rich, there would have been no successor to take over. No. This should be corrected. It would be as good as no successor. It would be embarrassing to call his young and weak daughter his successor.
Will he be able to see a proper successor in her body while he is alive? Will he be able to see a grandson born to carry on Roate's name and inherit everything he has created and built with all his heart and soul?
Once, Count Roate would always think this way as he looked at his daughter. It might have been better for her to die. It might have been better for her not to be born... It might have been better not to have Rosaline and this child. However, even Rosaline would not have known that such a child would be born.
Who would have thought that the child they had with difficulty would be born a girl who would inherit only their own weakness? At least Rosaline. No, they considered it a second chance. A joy they had once had. Their little son...
'Dominique.'
That child had come again. That he had come to give his lacking father and mother another chance... There was a time when he was filled with joy looking at his wife with her swollen belly. It was a very short time.
“I think it would be better to cover your neck a little more.”
Elliot turned his gaze away from his daughter’s white neck and muttered. His daughter had wrapped a scarf around her neck to hide her messy, disheveled neck, even in early summer, and her nose turned red. Then, she lifted the hand that had been holding the cutlery and looked around, feeling her neck and collarbone. A maid carrying a silver plate hurriedly walked away somewhere at her earnest gaze.
“As you know, Millium is visiting Lugdun in four days.”
His wife, who had been cutting mackerel and muttering, raised her head. Her gaze was not focused on anything. Elliot did not look at her. He did not want to see his wife in the same space as his daughter. It was hard to meet her eyes, filled with guilt and failure to fulfill their responsibilities. When he saw his wife, who was pale and pickled, with nothing left...
“But I heard that the visit has been brought forward to tomorrow evening.”
The daughter was the product of his wife's ruined womb. As soon as she was born, she had destroyed their hopes and pushed them into a past from which they would never return. He did not want to blame Rosaline. Rosaline had already punished herself beyond belief. How much more could he torment a woman who had ruined so many years with her own remorse?
Next was between her closed thighs. Else awkwardly spread her legs apart. Her cheeks were flushed. The awkward position seemed to make them flush even more. Ian, who saw her, sat down on the bed and made Else sit on his thighs.
She felt the firm thigh muscles. Else tried not to get excited, thinking back on what he had said earlier. He had asked if she wanted him to just take care of her body. With those eyes... Else’s heart was crushed. The wet towel wiped away her sticky skin.
Her eyes fell on her swollen skin. Else tried not to blush anymore. It wasn't that she didn't want to blush at the man who had insulted her, but because she didn't want to look funny to Ian. It would be funny if the woman he had insulted blushed again at a few touches.
“Does it hurt?”
Else didn't answer. Ian looked up from where he had been working the night before. Else groped for air so as not to look at him.
“I will call the doctor.”
“It doesn’t hurt.”
In fact, she was hurt. But if she said she was hurt, Ian wouldn't hold her. No matter how much she nagged and whined, she knew he wouldn't hold her. She had already been through a lot. If she said she was hurt, even if Else held the vase in her hand, he wouldn't move.
The fingers holding the wet towel poked the swollen spot. It was the place where a bruise would form before half a day had passed. The flesh that had been poked flinched and trembled. Eyes like blades turned to Else. She met his gaze while biting her lips. She would beg to be held tonight too. Tomorrow night too, and the night after tomorrow... She would beg to be held until his body odor did not dissipate.
“I’ll bring some ointment.”
"...Here, here, you didn’t clean it.”
She pointed to her chest and shoulders. His gaze, scanning her skin, red and tinged with scars, was cold. He pressed his lips together. It seemed as if he was telling her to take care of that much. However, Else stubbornly exposed her skin. He moved his hand again. The hand that wiped her chest and shoulders was still gentle.
When the wet towel passed over the area and became fluffy, he applied ointment. Else spread her legs and showed him the swollen area. The reddened skin reminded her of the love affair last night. It wasn’t about how coldly Ian had held her.
It was natural for Ian to look at her like that. Hugging an unwanted woman is rape. Rape is the most disgusting thing in the world. So Ian must be enduring the most disgusting thing while holding Else. Because Else raped Ian. Because Else wanted to get him... Even though she knew it was wrong, she violated Ian. In that way. Yes. She knows she can never be loved in that way. Still...
“Come tonight too.”
Ian put her down on the bed. Else, who had escaped Ian's embrace, quickly opened her mouth. He turned around and looked down at her. Every spot on her skin that he had looked at tingled. Still, Else reached out to him. She turned him around and clung to him as she had done the first time. It was Else's way of possessing him. Whether he wanted her or not.
“You have to come tonight too.”
It didn't matter anymore. She knew it couldn't be recovered now. Else would never win Ian's heart. Ian would never love Else. Yes. Ever. Never. So... Ian's heart didn't matter. If it was a relationship with a set time limit, if it wasn't going to end, Else was going to cling to him desperately. Then she thought she wouldn't have any regrets when she died. Even if she died giving birth to a child from a man she barely knew, she thought she could live her life caressing the little thing he had given her until it was worn out.
“You have to hug me tonight too.”
A muffled whisper echoed softly through the bedroom. Ian turned around. He threw the towel he was holding onto the table. It was the towel he had used to wipe Else. She felt it with wet eyes as if it were hers.
***
Lugdun. Northwest of Travasta. Unlike the vast borders of the Marquis of Aperato, the territory is surrounded by poor soil and rugged mountain ranges that make farming difficult. It is a barren land surrounded by deep valleys and hills, except for some crops such as barley and sugar beets. Most of the people live off of livestock farming and fishing. Although the territory itself does not produce minerals, minerals constantly come from neighboring Lotan and Anatoly, and the only one who can transport them is Viscount Roate of Lugdun, so the Viscount used the income from transporting minerals using the bay to run the territory.
Perhaps, if Viscount Roate had been a little more ambitious and passionate, he would have devoted himself to developing a trading port using the bay, but the Viscount was a gentleman who, except for a very short period in his youth, lived a frugal life, content with what was given to him.
Even if he had worked hard and made his land rich, there would have been no successor to take over. No. This should be corrected. It would be as good as no successor. It would be embarrassing to call his young and weak daughter his successor.
Will he be able to see a proper successor in her body while he is alive? Will he be able to see a grandson born to carry on Roate's name and inherit everything he has created and built with all his heart and soul?
Once, Count Roate would always think this way as he looked at his daughter. It might have been better for her to die. It might have been better for her not to be born... It might have been better not to have Rosaline and this child. However, even Rosaline would not have known that such a child would be born.
Who would have thought that the child they had with difficulty would be born a girl who would inherit only their own weakness? At least Rosaline. No, they considered it a second chance. A joy they had once had. Their little son...
'Dominique.'
That child had come again. That he had come to give his lacking father and mother another chance... There was a time when he was filled with joy looking at his wife with her swollen belly. It was a very short time.
“I think it would be better to cover your neck a little more.”
Elliot turned his gaze away from his daughter’s white neck and muttered. His daughter had wrapped a scarf around her neck to hide her messy, disheveled neck, even in early summer, and her nose turned red. Then, she lifted the hand that had been holding the cutlery and looked around, feeling her neck and collarbone. A maid carrying a silver plate hurriedly walked away somewhere at her earnest gaze.
“As you know, Millium is visiting Lugdun in four days.”
His wife, who had been cutting mackerel and muttering, raised her head. Her gaze was not focused on anything. Elliot did not look at her. He did not want to see his wife in the same space as his daughter. It was hard to meet her eyes, filled with guilt and failure to fulfill their responsibilities. When he saw his wife, who was pale and pickled, with nothing left...
“But I heard that the visit has been brought forward to tomorrow evening.”
The daughter was the product of his wife's ruined womb. As soon as she was born, she had destroyed their hopes and pushed them into a past from which they would never return. He did not want to blame Rosaline. Rosaline had already punished herself beyond belief. How much more could he torment a woman who had ruined so many years with her own remorse?
The rest of his wife's life was no different from punishment. But he still loved her. As much as he had loved her in her youth and loveliness...
“With his father.”
And he resented his daughter. He believed that she was born as something that should not have been born. If he had known that something like that would be born, he would have buried Dominique in his heart and worked hard to adopt her, but now there is nothing he can do to stop it.
“I believe you will do well as the daughter of Roate.”
“With his father.”
And he resented his daughter. He believed that she was born as something that should not have been born. If he had known that something like that would be born, he would have buried Dominique in his heart and worked hard to adopt her, but now there is nothing he can do to stop it.
“I believe you will do well as the daughter of Roate.”
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