09. Damien
Damian read the letter again slowly. The letter Chloe sent was not much different from the ones she had sent him before. The handwriting was neat and the words were appropriate.
There was no sense of commotion in the content of reporting on what had happened in the territory and expressing gratitude to the Duke. At first glance, it seemed like a lot of investigation (especially in the part praising Damien’s achievements), but even that was extremely restrained and soulless. Except for one part.
Chloe Verdier.
He opened his office drawer and dropped a new letter into the pile of letters inside, smiling. All the letters she had sent so far had ended with the same name.
“Chloe Verdier.”
Damien leaned against the window and chuckled. This was exactly what provoked him. The envelope clearly said Duchess of Tisse, but Chloe had never used Tissé's last name in the last signature of the letter.
Damien glanced at the newspaper that the Marchioness Isabella had left behind when she visited him today. The Red Veil, which featured his and Isabella’s characters on the front page, had probably made a nice profit.
What would Chloe have thought when she saw this? She probably felt ashamed. Since she was a person who lived by manners and norms, would she have cried because she couldn't hold back her shame? No. As always, she would have held back tears, her eyes wide open like a spoonful of cream mixed into sweet chocolate. Not knowing that this is what makes people like her even more irritating.
Damien took a deep sip, feeling the taste of the alcohol on his tongue become even richer. The table of the person who exaggerated the appearance of him and Isabella was sure to be plentiful today. The rumor of an affair between the Marchioness, who had become famous thanks to her late husband who had left behind a great fortune, and the young and capable Duke was a convenient device that was perfect for piquing people's interest.
Palang. Damien flipped through the newspaper and checked the back of the page. There was also a clear article about screams recently being heard from the palace basement. There was also a strange rumor about maids and servants dying with their blood drained.
No one openly read the third-rate gossip papers he financed, but at least among the nobles, he knew no one did not secretly keep a copy of the paper in their homes.
After the war, farmers and merchants who had managed to make a decent living welcomed the sensational news from the higher-ups. The royal family had officially announced that those who printed this newspaper would be severely punished for spreading unconfirmed rumors.
He also knew that the reason for not conducting a large-scale search was that the newspapers occasionally leaked news that suited the royal family's taste.
As rumors spread that the King is seriously ill, the position of successor Johannes seems to be getting stronger in the royal family. Duke Tisse, a war hero, the current top businessman in the kingdom, and the son of the Princess is a womanizer, so it is only natural that the people are turning away. Will God forgive the Duke's womanizing, even during his honeymoon?
Damien tapped his hand lightly on the desk where the newspaper was spread out and thought of Chloe. He wondered what she was thinking. He felt that if he could know the series of thought processes going on in her tiny head, he would do anything.
“I thought Your Excellency wanted power.”
Whenever the woman who always avoided or looked down looked at him straight in the eye and spat out a word, something unbearable boiled up in his stomach. He grabbed the sheepskin gloves neatly placed on the table with his hand. As he gripped the gloves, which had become completely soft from being worn, tightly in his hand, the joints on the back of his large hands bulged out.
Whenever he thought of her, he felt an urge to grab something. He thought it would be best to grab her, but he felt like if he grabbed her too hard, she would break. No. She would bend, but she wouldn't break easily.
Damien recalled the moment when he first saw her. It was the day when he had to retreat with a large group of wounded soldiers, and had barely managed to find one of the local landowners who were offering support.
On a night when the groans of those dying in the barracks were endless, Chloe was at the bedside of a soldier struggling between life and death.
He still remembers clearly what she said as she held the hand of the soldier who was calling for his mother in a confused state in the face of death.
“My son. My proud son. Mommy loves you so much.”
Chloe, that cheeky young lady, dared to play the role of a dying soldier's mother. Even thinking back now, it was unbelievable, but what made it even more unspeakable was the fact that the soldier who was on the verge of death survived that night and eventually got up from his seat.
"Crazy."
It was such an amazing thing that even thinking about it now makes him want to curse. Damien once again confirmed that human mental power can surpass the limits of the body.
“I’m sorry, but you’ll have to wait a bit.”
That night, the woman who was hurriedly passing by Damien, who had come to inspect the barracks for the wounded, looked so young that she seemed to be barely in her twenties. Furthermore, she was limping noticeably even though she was using a cane. It was from then that a strange feeling began to rise in his stomach.
He was annoyed by the woman.
He was annoyed that she was trying to help others when she was in such a state that it wouldn't have been strange for her to be mixed in with the wounded, and he was also annoyed by her calm expression in a situation that was clearly unpleasant.
When he saw her again in the forest a few days later, the strange feeling became clear. If the hand holding the basket hadn't been shaking, Damien wouldn't have been sure that she was afraid of him. His throat became a little drier as he thought of Chloe, who never showed tears even when her voice was full of tears.
Damien knew that he had completely penetrated the nature of women. At the same time, he had newly realized that he felt a hunting instinct towards that kind of person. For example, the upright kind who did not ask for pity no matter how much they were trampled.
He remembered the small bedroom that looked just like hers. The piano, old but clearly dustless, as if it had been swept and cleaned often. He smiled as he recalled the book of an ascetic philosopher on the table, and the crime novel lying next to it.
The old rag doll that sat neatly on the bed was probably a gift from her dead mother. The patterns on the curtains, bedspread, and cushion on the sofa were all the same, except for a slight difference in color.
A room where nothing was untouched by her touch. It was a small world that seemed to show Chloe Verdier's life in a condensed form. In that room, the woman would have played the piano, studied the thoughts of conservative philosophers, and occasionally read crime novels to escape to a small escape. She would have embroidered in a sunny spot, putting her own traces on her small world.
What on earth was going through her mind as she embroidered Tisse's emblem on his gloves?
Damien recalled the most delightful memory that had taken place there. The sight of the woman trembling, wearing the jewels he had given her, and kissing her with a contemptuous face while shedding silent tears was one of the most delightful memories he had ever had.
The last time he felt something similar was when he stabbed the heart of the enemy commander who had shot him a few years ago.
But his little pleasure won't last long.
He was originally a person who was good at self-objectification. He would get sick of seeing a woman on her knees begging him five times, or maybe three times. But it didn't matter. He had already gotten enough from this marriage.
The water flowing down from the barren mountain in the forest, which was Verdier's private property, was strangely sparkling. If the source of the gold dust was the mine, it would have been unfortunate for the debt-ridden Viscount Verdier, but wasn't that also the fault of those who failed to recognize the gold in front of them?
He has never failed in anything he set out to do, including marriage.
Damien slowly opened his hand and looked at the crumpled gloves inside. He licked his dry lips with his tongue as he stared intently at the white birch pattern that the woman had stitched up. The woman had a tendency to slightly part her lips when she concentrated. Next time, he thought, he should lock her in the room and make her sew all day. When she ran out of fabric to sew on, he could have her embroidered on his body.
Damien closed his eyes tightly and opened them, remembering her careful breathing as she treated the wounds torn by the beast. Leaving without spending the night was his last act of generosity to Chloe Verdier. It was a consideration to not break her small body.
He grabbed his gloves and headed to his bedroom. Tomorrow was the day he would meet the King, who had not been seen in public for three months. A pleasant excitement filled his body as he thought he was finally one step closer to the moment he had been waiting for.
In front of the King's bedroom, located deepest in the palace, Damien stared at the tightly shut door. The King's condition, which had collapsed during a meal three months ago, was a top-secret, but judging from the situation going on in the palace, it was certain that his condition was not very good.
“Please come in.”
A servant appeared and guided him cautiously. Damien walked into the bedroom, which was darkly shadowed by death.
“Damien. Come here.”
The King raised his hand, his face even more gaunt than when Damien had returned from the war and had a private audience with him the last time. Watching the withered, bone-less hand move weakly, Damien instinctively knew that his life would be shorter than he had thought. It was doubtful that he would be able to live more than half a year at most.
“The day when God calls me to his arms is not far away.”
Damien opened his mouth in a tone of emotionless speech, neither confirming nor denying what he said.
“Is it because you have ordered me to enter the palace that you have something to do for me?”
The King smiled slightly. His nephew was a much more capable man than his father. With such a cool head, he would have made accurate judgments in battle and ultimately brought victory to the kingdom. It was true that he had hoped that his son, Johannes, would be half as good as his cousin, Damien. However, now he thought it was fortunate that a capable man like Damien was by the Prince's side.
“Even if I go, I believe you will serve John well.”
The medical condition of Johannes, who was put forward as the successor, was hereditary through his mother's lineage. The fact that he was sick was known only to a few people, and it was something that had to be kept secret until his death.
“Damien, promise me that you will relieve the poor child of the burden. Swear before God that you will serve the King with all loyalty as you have always done.”
Damien stared blankly at the King lying on the bed and finally slowly opened his mouth.
“If there is a King I can serve, I will do so.”
The pulse throbbed in the King's wrinkled eyelids.
“... a subject has to serve the King, Damien.”
“Then the future of that country is bright.”
Damian lowered his head and whispered while looking into the King's puzzled eyes.
“A country ruled by a mad King.”
“Yes... yes you...!”
Damien's hand covered the King's mouth. The servant behind the curtain could not enter until the King's order was given. The moment his two eyes, wide open in shock, met Damien's blue eyes, the King immediately realized the dangerous truth he had been hiding.
“Even if the Prince had not the slightest flaw, I still can’t guarantee that I would be able to serve him. If I bow down to someone inferior to me, I will feel bitter inside.”
Damien's evil power was so great that it seemed like it would be enough to crush his jaw at any moment, but the King tried to come to his senses. It was only a belated regret that he should have nixed it in the bud when he was young.
“It is true that I fought on the battlefield, giving my life, for my country.”
The son of Tisse, who enlisted in the army at a young age, pledged loyalty to his country, and raised a huge amount of taxes to pay for the palace security, grew up into a poisonous snake while the King was at ease.
“Because it is my kingdom.”
Even as he uttered such a terrible rebellion, Damien did not even flinch an eyelash. Damien relaxed his grip, but the King was too shocked to utter a word.
“Shouldn’t the one sitting on the throne be worthy of it, Your Majesty?”
“Since when... Since when have you been so greedy?”
The old King could not understand. Damien's father, the former Duke of Tisse, was a loyal man. The fact that he was a soldier with a strong sense of duty played a big role in marrying Princess Priscilla. Who could instill such impure thoughts in his son? His sister, Damien's real mother, was a weakling who had never shown any interest or desire for power.
Damien answered the King, who was looking at him with an expression of disbelief and shaking eyes.
“From birth.”
Only then did the King properly recognize the being before his eyes. His instincts were those of a trampler. No one had trained Damien to be like that; he was born that way. If he could turn back time, he would have killed the fetus Damien. The King’s eyes filled with belated fear as he realized that it was already too late.
“If all questions are over, may I withdraw, Your Majesty?”
“Damien...!”
Damien stopped as he was about to turn around when the King called his name urgently. The King carefully opened his mouth to speak to his nephew in a desperate voice filled with last hope.
“Promise me you won’t do anything to hurt John. He’s your blood brother, Damien. So please, at least make sure he’s safe...!”
“If you wish to avoid seeing blood, Your Majesty, you must make a wise decision.”
“What do you mean?”
“I am telling you that you should acknowledge the Prince’s flaws and make me the new successor.”
Damien watched with amusement as the King's eyes turned bloodshot. It was quite an amusing experience to witness the moment when all hope turned to despair. So, from the beginning, the fact that he had appointed someone who had no qualifications as his successor was not a matter of kingship, but merely a matter of greed as a father.
“Are you telling me to inflict such an insult... on Johannes... on my son with my own hands...?”
“It is the right decision as the King of a country, not as the father of a son.”
The King could sense how long Damien had been waiting for this moment. The situation was such that all the nobles in the council adored the young Duke, the old and sick King was lying on his sickbed, waiting for his death, and the young and weak Prince was relying on the Duke for everything.
“I could summon the council and have you punished for treason, Damien.”
Damien smiled as he looked at the last card the King had pulled out.
“Then we will see what real treason is.”
Seeing the King's lips tremble, Damien bowed his head to him and left his seat. Even when the servant called by Damien came to check on his well-being, the King could not calm down easily and his body trembled.
“Your Majesty, why are you sweating so much...”
Let me first show you your son's head on the guillotine.
Damien's subsequent whispers dug into the King's mind and echoed.
Damian read the letter again slowly. The letter Chloe sent was not much different from the ones she had sent him before. The handwriting was neat and the words were appropriate.
There was no sense of commotion in the content of reporting on what had happened in the territory and expressing gratitude to the Duke. At first glance, it seemed like a lot of investigation (especially in the part praising Damien’s achievements), but even that was extremely restrained and soulless. Except for one part.
Chloe Verdier.
He opened his office drawer and dropped a new letter into the pile of letters inside, smiling. All the letters she had sent so far had ended with the same name.
“Chloe Verdier.”
Damien leaned against the window and chuckled. This was exactly what provoked him. The envelope clearly said Duchess of Tisse, but Chloe had never used Tissé's last name in the last signature of the letter.
Damien glanced at the newspaper that the Marchioness Isabella had left behind when she visited him today. The Red Veil, which featured his and Isabella’s characters on the front page, had probably made a nice profit.
What would Chloe have thought when she saw this? She probably felt ashamed. Since she was a person who lived by manners and norms, would she have cried because she couldn't hold back her shame? No. As always, she would have held back tears, her eyes wide open like a spoonful of cream mixed into sweet chocolate. Not knowing that this is what makes people like her even more irritating.
Damien took a deep sip, feeling the taste of the alcohol on his tongue become even richer. The table of the person who exaggerated the appearance of him and Isabella was sure to be plentiful today. The rumor of an affair between the Marchioness, who had become famous thanks to her late husband who had left behind a great fortune, and the young and capable Duke was a convenient device that was perfect for piquing people's interest.
Palang. Damien flipped through the newspaper and checked the back of the page. There was also a clear article about screams recently being heard from the palace basement. There was also a strange rumor about maids and servants dying with their blood drained.
No one openly read the third-rate gossip papers he financed, but at least among the nobles, he knew no one did not secretly keep a copy of the paper in their homes.
After the war, farmers and merchants who had managed to make a decent living welcomed the sensational news from the higher-ups. The royal family had officially announced that those who printed this newspaper would be severely punished for spreading unconfirmed rumors.
He also knew that the reason for not conducting a large-scale search was that the newspapers occasionally leaked news that suited the royal family's taste.
As rumors spread that the King is seriously ill, the position of successor Johannes seems to be getting stronger in the royal family. Duke Tisse, a war hero, the current top businessman in the kingdom, and the son of the Princess is a womanizer, so it is only natural that the people are turning away. Will God forgive the Duke's womanizing, even during his honeymoon?
Damien tapped his hand lightly on the desk where the newspaper was spread out and thought of Chloe. He wondered what she was thinking. He felt that if he could know the series of thought processes going on in her tiny head, he would do anything.
“I thought Your Excellency wanted power.”
Whenever the woman who always avoided or looked down looked at him straight in the eye and spat out a word, something unbearable boiled up in his stomach. He grabbed the sheepskin gloves neatly placed on the table with his hand. As he gripped the gloves, which had become completely soft from being worn, tightly in his hand, the joints on the back of his large hands bulged out.
Whenever he thought of her, he felt an urge to grab something. He thought it would be best to grab her, but he felt like if he grabbed her too hard, she would break. No. She would bend, but she wouldn't break easily.
Damien recalled the moment when he first saw her. It was the day when he had to retreat with a large group of wounded soldiers, and had barely managed to find one of the local landowners who were offering support.
On a night when the groans of those dying in the barracks were endless, Chloe was at the bedside of a soldier struggling between life and death.
He still remembers clearly what she said as she held the hand of the soldier who was calling for his mother in a confused state in the face of death.
“My son. My proud son. Mommy loves you so much.”
Chloe, that cheeky young lady, dared to play the role of a dying soldier's mother. Even thinking back now, it was unbelievable, but what made it even more unspeakable was the fact that the soldier who was on the verge of death survived that night and eventually got up from his seat.
"Crazy."
It was such an amazing thing that even thinking about it now makes him want to curse. Damien once again confirmed that human mental power can surpass the limits of the body.
“I’m sorry, but you’ll have to wait a bit.”
That night, the woman who was hurriedly passing by Damien, who had come to inspect the barracks for the wounded, looked so young that she seemed to be barely in her twenties. Furthermore, she was limping noticeably even though she was using a cane. It was from then that a strange feeling began to rise in his stomach.
He was annoyed by the woman.
He was annoyed that she was trying to help others when she was in such a state that it wouldn't have been strange for her to be mixed in with the wounded, and he was also annoyed by her calm expression in a situation that was clearly unpleasant.
When he saw her again in the forest a few days later, the strange feeling became clear. If the hand holding the basket hadn't been shaking, Damien wouldn't have been sure that she was afraid of him. His throat became a little drier as he thought of Chloe, who never showed tears even when her voice was full of tears.
Damien knew that he had completely penetrated the nature of women. At the same time, he had newly realized that he felt a hunting instinct towards that kind of person. For example, the upright kind who did not ask for pity no matter how much they were trampled.
He remembered the small bedroom that looked just like hers. The piano, old but clearly dustless, as if it had been swept and cleaned often. He smiled as he recalled the book of an ascetic philosopher on the table, and the crime novel lying next to it.
The old rag doll that sat neatly on the bed was probably a gift from her dead mother. The patterns on the curtains, bedspread, and cushion on the sofa were all the same, except for a slight difference in color.
A room where nothing was untouched by her touch. It was a small world that seemed to show Chloe Verdier's life in a condensed form. In that room, the woman would have played the piano, studied the thoughts of conservative philosophers, and occasionally read crime novels to escape to a small escape. She would have embroidered in a sunny spot, putting her own traces on her small world.
What on earth was going through her mind as she embroidered Tisse's emblem on his gloves?
Damien recalled the most delightful memory that had taken place there. The sight of the woman trembling, wearing the jewels he had given her, and kissing her with a contemptuous face while shedding silent tears was one of the most delightful memories he had ever had.
The last time he felt something similar was when he stabbed the heart of the enemy commander who had shot him a few years ago.
But his little pleasure won't last long.
He was originally a person who was good at self-objectification. He would get sick of seeing a woman on her knees begging him five times, or maybe three times. But it didn't matter. He had already gotten enough from this marriage.
The water flowing down from the barren mountain in the forest, which was Verdier's private property, was strangely sparkling. If the source of the gold dust was the mine, it would have been unfortunate for the debt-ridden Viscount Verdier, but wasn't that also the fault of those who failed to recognize the gold in front of them?
He has never failed in anything he set out to do, including marriage.
Damien slowly opened his hand and looked at the crumpled gloves inside. He licked his dry lips with his tongue as he stared intently at the white birch pattern that the woman had stitched up. The woman had a tendency to slightly part her lips when she concentrated. Next time, he thought, he should lock her in the room and make her sew all day. When she ran out of fabric to sew on, he could have her embroidered on his body.
Damien closed his eyes tightly and opened them, remembering her careful breathing as she treated the wounds torn by the beast. Leaving without spending the night was his last act of generosity to Chloe Verdier. It was a consideration to not break her small body.
He grabbed his gloves and headed to his bedroom. Tomorrow was the day he would meet the King, who had not been seen in public for three months. A pleasant excitement filled his body as he thought he was finally one step closer to the moment he had been waiting for.
***
In front of the King's bedroom, located deepest in the palace, Damien stared at the tightly shut door. The King's condition, which had collapsed during a meal three months ago, was a top-secret, but judging from the situation going on in the palace, it was certain that his condition was not very good.
“Please come in.”
A servant appeared and guided him cautiously. Damien walked into the bedroom, which was darkly shadowed by death.
“Damien. Come here.”
The King raised his hand, his face even more gaunt than when Damien had returned from the war and had a private audience with him the last time. Watching the withered, bone-less hand move weakly, Damien instinctively knew that his life would be shorter than he had thought. It was doubtful that he would be able to live more than half a year at most.
“The day when God calls me to his arms is not far away.”
Damien opened his mouth in a tone of emotionless speech, neither confirming nor denying what he said.
“Is it because you have ordered me to enter the palace that you have something to do for me?”
The King smiled slightly. His nephew was a much more capable man than his father. With such a cool head, he would have made accurate judgments in battle and ultimately brought victory to the kingdom. It was true that he had hoped that his son, Johannes, would be half as good as his cousin, Damien. However, now he thought it was fortunate that a capable man like Damien was by the Prince's side.
“Even if I go, I believe you will serve John well.”
The medical condition of Johannes, who was put forward as the successor, was hereditary through his mother's lineage. The fact that he was sick was known only to a few people, and it was something that had to be kept secret until his death.
“Damien, promise me that you will relieve the poor child of the burden. Swear before God that you will serve the King with all loyalty as you have always done.”
Damien stared blankly at the King lying on the bed and finally slowly opened his mouth.
“If there is a King I can serve, I will do so.”
The pulse throbbed in the King's wrinkled eyelids.
“... a subject has to serve the King, Damien.”
“Then the future of that country is bright.”
Damian lowered his head and whispered while looking into the King's puzzled eyes.
“A country ruled by a mad King.”
“Yes... yes you...!”
Damien's hand covered the King's mouth. The servant behind the curtain could not enter until the King's order was given. The moment his two eyes, wide open in shock, met Damien's blue eyes, the King immediately realized the dangerous truth he had been hiding.
“Even if the Prince had not the slightest flaw, I still can’t guarantee that I would be able to serve him. If I bow down to someone inferior to me, I will feel bitter inside.”
Damien's evil power was so great that it seemed like it would be enough to crush his jaw at any moment, but the King tried to come to his senses. It was only a belated regret that he should have nixed it in the bud when he was young.
“It is true that I fought on the battlefield, giving my life, for my country.”
The son of Tisse, who enlisted in the army at a young age, pledged loyalty to his country, and raised a huge amount of taxes to pay for the palace security, grew up into a poisonous snake while the King was at ease.
“Because it is my kingdom.”
Even as he uttered such a terrible rebellion, Damien did not even flinch an eyelash. Damien relaxed his grip, but the King was too shocked to utter a word.
“Shouldn’t the one sitting on the throne be worthy of it, Your Majesty?”
“Since when... Since when have you been so greedy?”
The old King could not understand. Damien's father, the former Duke of Tisse, was a loyal man. The fact that he was a soldier with a strong sense of duty played a big role in marrying Princess Priscilla. Who could instill such impure thoughts in his son? His sister, Damien's real mother, was a weakling who had never shown any interest or desire for power.
Damien answered the King, who was looking at him with an expression of disbelief and shaking eyes.
“From birth.”
Only then did the King properly recognize the being before his eyes. His instincts were those of a trampler. No one had trained Damien to be like that; he was born that way. If he could turn back time, he would have killed the fetus Damien. The King’s eyes filled with belated fear as he realized that it was already too late.
“If all questions are over, may I withdraw, Your Majesty?”
“Damien...!”
Damien stopped as he was about to turn around when the King called his name urgently. The King carefully opened his mouth to speak to his nephew in a desperate voice filled with last hope.
“Promise me you won’t do anything to hurt John. He’s your blood brother, Damien. So please, at least make sure he’s safe...!”
“If you wish to avoid seeing blood, Your Majesty, you must make a wise decision.”
“What do you mean?”
“I am telling you that you should acknowledge the Prince’s flaws and make me the new successor.”
Damien watched with amusement as the King's eyes turned bloodshot. It was quite an amusing experience to witness the moment when all hope turned to despair. So, from the beginning, the fact that he had appointed someone who had no qualifications as his successor was not a matter of kingship, but merely a matter of greed as a father.
“Are you telling me to inflict such an insult... on Johannes... on my son with my own hands...?”
“It is the right decision as the King of a country, not as the father of a son.”
The King could sense how long Damien had been waiting for this moment. The situation was such that all the nobles in the council adored the young Duke, the old and sick King was lying on his sickbed, waiting for his death, and the young and weak Prince was relying on the Duke for everything.
“I could summon the council and have you punished for treason, Damien.”
Damien smiled as he looked at the last card the King had pulled out.
“Then we will see what real treason is.”
Seeing the King's lips tremble, Damien bowed his head to him and left his seat. Even when the servant called by Damien came to check on his well-being, the King could not calm down easily and his body trembled.
“Your Majesty, why are you sweating so much...”
Let me first show you your son's head on the guillotine.
Damien's subsequent whispers dug into the King's mind and echoed.
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