Noah, who had been sitting at his desk in his office since early in the morning, rested his chin on his hand and was lost in thought.
There were quite a few formal reasons and triggers for Noah bringing Diana here, contrary to his original plan.
He remembered Diana's soft, calm, and seemingly resigned, ash-green eyes.
Beneath her jet-black hair, his face was pale, almost like a blank sheet of paper. Her expression was apathetic, as if she lacked something, even a sense of motivation, and it was impossible to classify her as cold or warm.
Even though she was taken hostage, she did not cry or feel afraid, and with a lukewarm attitude and lukewarm eyes, she only made a formal request to be sent back.
It seemed as if it didn't matter whether she stayed here or left, as if she was in a state of no thoughts or no thoughts.
You look pretty when you cry. Is it because you're crying because of me?
He recalled tears streaming down her doll-like, indifferent face. Only when he said he would protect her, a woman who hadn't cried or pleaded even when pointed at a gun and left alone for days, did she finally shed tears, revealing her need for him. It was as if he had acquired a unique work of art, a work of art with meaning beyond its outward appearance, a thrill that almost felt fulfilling. He longed to see her emotionally moved, no matter what form it took, by him, not by someone else. He longed to see the real expressions that would be captured on her pale, indifferent face.
He liked it. Because it's self-centered and not kind.
Noah felt a strange sense of discovery, as if he had found a clue to something he had been searching for for a long time.
He knew what he wanted.
Fortunately, the mad Duke's desires turned towards a gentlemanly direction.
If it were the opposite, the two would have been described as a dilapidated, thriller, or horror film.
She has nothing but him, and all she needs is him.
He also liked the possibility that he might become a unique being.
Of course, many tried to be special and unique to Noah. But none of them were satisfactory or complete. Even his parents, the Duke and Duchess of Rotsilt, couldn't do it.
I saved her first, so she's mine now. It's a promise.
Noah's lips curled loosely as he recalled a promise he had made with someone in the past.
“Vincent.”
"Yes."
Vincent, the secretary standing in front of Noah, had a very nervous expression on his face, as if he was about to tell him something serious.
“Do you have a girlfriend?”
Vincent's once serious eyes became empty.
“I’m too busy with work to date.”
"I see."
“You’ve been in love before, haven’t you?”
“I just met her a few times because she asked me to. What kind of relationship is that?”
Vincent slammed a stack of papers on his desk, looking exhausted. He looked out the window for a moment, reminiscing.
“Everyone cried. Even the Princess of Medea.”
The words, 'You even held a gun to make Miss Claire cry,' lingered in Vincent's mouth, but he swallowed them.
"Him? I met her only to reject her because she kept sending me annoying letters."
"That's true. Since the heir to Medea's throne can only marry a Medean, I suppose we'll have to meet. If you marry someone from another race, you'll lose your right to succeed."
“The Princess is Diana.”
Vincent pretended to listen roughly because it was a headache to understand Noah's peculiar thoughts.
"Yes."
“How can I keep her from running away? In a good way.”
“Are you talking about Miss Claire?”
"Yes."
Vincent remembered that he'd recently stocked up on a significant number of romance books. There was no way the man would read them, and they were clearly requested by Diana. A story about bonds and romantic feelings? A means and method to ensure they held on.
“Do what women like.”
“What should I do?”
“Don’t you know?”
“I’ve never really given a gift to a woman.”
Noah nodded and smiled. Vincent, who had been alone for a long time, with no time for romance, blurted out something he could remember.
"They like gifts like jewelry, accessories, and dresses. And they prefer a capable man. She won't run away. Don't worry."
“I know that. Don’t just give them a vague answer, right?”
Noah squinted his eyes and tapped his cheek with the finger resting on his chin. Vincent, who had been caught, looked embarrassed.
"She'll probably like what she's never experienced before. She was severely discriminated against by the eldest daughter, after all."
“So I tried to give her one of the things the admiral's eldest daughter had, but she didn't want it. I said I'd make a carpet out of bear skin.”
"It might be a matter of personal taste. If you're an animal lover, you might hate it."
“You like animals, so why do you hate them?”
“Because you don’t want the person you like to die.”
Fox fur is really good for wrapping.
Noah lifted his chin and sighed. Vincent was looking out the window at the mountain ridge. This place was surrounded by mountains and forests, quite far from the city.
“She can’t run away anyway, right?”
“She doesn’t even want to think about running away.”
"Anyway, give her something she'd like. At least stop by every day to check in. Women like men who care. In fact, if you put your heart into it, even flowers picked on the street are appreciated."
Noah, who had been resting his chin on Vincent's sincere answer, smiled.
“Then go out and buy something. I’ll write it down for you.”
It takes a full two hours to drive downtown, but a four-hour round trip? Vincent nodded with a gloomy expression, convinced he'd be working overtime again. Noah tilted his head and asked.
"Vincent. Where should I pick flowers? It's winter, so there aren't any flowers on the road."
“Let’s wait until spring.”
"You can do it, right? It seems like a personal experience. I don't think you'd buy it from a florist or say you picked it on the street."
At Noah's words, Vincent sighed and touched his forehead.
I felt the warm sunlight settle on my eyelids. I must have fallen into a deep, faint sleep.
Noah said he'd tell me something, but I didn't ask what it was. So many shocking events had happened, and I was so exhausted and worn out that I couldn't think. My whole body still ached, and I felt heavy as if I were soaking wet cotton.
“Wasn’t it morning?”
I glanced out the window and was startled. The crimson sky wasn't sunrise, but sunset. I'd slept so long that my head felt like it was going to explode, so I gulped down water. I pulled the bell to summon Molly, and she brought me food.
After dinner, I slowly got up and soaked in the warm bathtub. I felt all my remaining fatigue melt away. Molly, who was dissolving bath salts in the water, asked me a personal question for the first time.
“Is this on your wingbone? Are you hurt?”
“Huh? What do you have?”
“You have a butterfly-shaped scar. Did you know it’s been there since I first met you?”
I have no way of knowing this body in detail. I'm just a supporting character who dies early on.
Perhaps there was a hidden secret of birth, and that I was a runaway slave? This is a brand.
“I don’t know either.”
Molly didn't ask any further questions and simply took care of my bath. After washing and changing, Vincent, looking extremely tired, arrived. He was followed by maids, each with their hands full of things.
“What is it?”
“Anything you like.”
What are you talking about?
Molly and the maids began to unwrap the items and open the boxes to take them out.
The blush on their face gave off a hint of excitement.
Hats with elaborate corsages, walking gowns, dresses made of various rich fabrics, coats lined with ermine, and all sorts of jewels and ornaments were piled up like Christmas presents.
“The Duke sent it.”
"Yes."
I looked at them with a disinterested expression. "Just give me some thick pajamas, wool socks, and fluffy slippers." Vincent's wheat-colored eyes fluttered slightly at my dry response. He cleared his throat sharply.
“Do you not like it?”
“I don’t have anywhere to go?”
The maids, who had been unnecessarily excited, became quiet, and a chilling silence enveloped the room. I added in a calm tone.
“And there is no mirror in this room.”
They say one way to bully someone is to dress them up in fancy clothes and never let them see themselves in the mirror. This is undoubtedly the elegant bullying of a learned person.
“I’ll put it there right away. That’s because it’s where we stored war spoils and art.”
Am I one of the spoils of war? The countless death flags and hardships have made me a cynical person. Feeling slightly uncomfortable, I pursed my lips.
“Yes, yes, I’ll decorate it with this as if it were a spoil of war.”
“Why are you so negative? You’re treating the hostages so leniently.”
Vincent, responding in a businesslike voice, confirmed that all the items had been brought in and ordered the maids to put them away.
“I will report the inconvenience you mentioned to Your Excellency.”
"Yes."
After Vincent and the maids left, I collapsed back into bed. I couldn't understand why he kept trying to be nice to me when he was just going to get rid of me when he lost interest. Perhaps it was because I possessed the beauty of the century.
Based on the original's personality, he could be a character who enjoys giving hope and then inflicting despair. It's a playful indulgence reserved for the wealthy.
As the sun had completely set and darkness was falling, a light knock was heard.
“Come in.”
"Is Molly here?" I asked lazily, stretching out on the bed.
“Are you sleeping again?”
Noah came in, wearing a dark brown lounge suit under a long black coat, and tilted his head.
The atmosphere was so eerie, it felt like watching a scene from a movie. He took off the gloves he was wearing, placed his bare hand on my forehead, and took my temperature.
“It’s not a cold.”
This guy... comes too often, unlike the original. I tried to hide my annoyance and raised my upper body.
“What’s going on?”
“You said you were sad because you had nowhere to go, even though you had pretty clothes?”
When did I! That damn secretary has a tendency to exaggerate.
“I wasn’t sad...”
“You had a sad expression.”
“I think that’s just how it was.”
“Yeah, that’s right. It’s pathetic.”
Noah was looking at me with a pitiful expression, as if his words and actions were consistent.
I sighed and brushed my bangs away from my eyebrows.
“Yes, yes. I admit it.”
“I came to go out with you. I wanted to give you a place to wear it.”
“...Wow, this is exciting.”
I clapped my hands a few times, answering absentmindedly. Going out is one of the things I most dread.
“But my hair is all over the place.”
“Molly will make you pretty again. I’ll go out and wait for you, so come out when you’re done.”
I tried my best to get him to cancel his outing, but it didn't work. After Noah left, Molly came in, changed my clothes, and straightened my unkempt hair with a hot iron.
I waved my hand in refusal as she took out the powder and applied only lipstick made of beeswax and flower petals.
“I think I’m going on a date.”
“That’s right.”
Molly answered concisely. Her expression was cold and indifferent, but her hands were delicate.
I don't know what she did, but she must have put in all her effort, as sweat beaded on her forehead.
Molly, who had brought an emerald necklace and earring set, made a low humming sound.
“You don’t have your ears pierced.”
“Oh, that’s right.”
“I’ll break it open for you now.”
“No, wait!”
I screamed in fear when I saw Molly's strong arms, but luckily, it didn't hurt, and she quickly pierced and disinfected my ears.
“I’ll change to smaller earrings instead. Big earrings would hurt.”
Molly, who had put on the earrings and necklace, led me to the full-length mirror she had brought earlier.
Her expression seemed subtly pleased. Looking in the mirror, I was slightly surprised to see a strange woman I hadn't seen in a long time.
The once emaciated crow had now put on a beautiful, plump figure. My once pale and gaunt cheeks had plumped up and taken on a rosy glow. My once frizzy, jet-black hair had become silky and bouncy, thanks to protein intake, and the dark circles under my eyes, once worn down by arduous labor, had faded.
After decorating it, I realized that it wasn't actually sharp.
“Looking at it this way, it seems okay.”
“Yes, you are pretty.”
She responded to my soliloquy with a blank expression, but seemed slightly excited. Molly dressed me in a deep purple velvet dress, a coat with a luxurious outer fabric, and a brooch-fastening collar. The lining, she said, was coyote fur.
Here, wearing elbow-length silk gloves and high-heeled shoes, I look like a woman of urban wealth. As expected, short hair completes the look. Noah, who was reading the newspaper while waiting for me to finish getting ready, took a moment to admire me before nodding.
“It suits you well. You look good in anything you wear.”
“Have you ever seen the same white pajamas day and night?”
“They were all different. The lace, the buttons, the materials.”
I don't really know the subtle differences. I just wore whatever was given to me.
A classic black car was parked near the mansion's entrance. Vincent sat in the driver's seat, his face expressionless. His expression was a bit listless, as if the world were about to end.
“Get in, Princess.”
Noah opened the backseat door and smiled brightly.
“It’s our first date, like any other couple.”
“A date? A lover?”
Had we become a couple without me knowing? Just because I said I loved him? I felt like I'd been hit in the head, and I stared blankly at Noah's face.
There were quite a few formal reasons and triggers for Noah bringing Diana here, contrary to his original plan.
He remembered Diana's soft, calm, and seemingly resigned, ash-green eyes.
Beneath her jet-black hair, his face was pale, almost like a blank sheet of paper. Her expression was apathetic, as if she lacked something, even a sense of motivation, and it was impossible to classify her as cold or warm.
Even though she was taken hostage, she did not cry or feel afraid, and with a lukewarm attitude and lukewarm eyes, she only made a formal request to be sent back.
It seemed as if it didn't matter whether she stayed here or left, as if she was in a state of no thoughts or no thoughts.
You look pretty when you cry. Is it because you're crying because of me?
He recalled tears streaming down her doll-like, indifferent face. Only when he said he would protect her, a woman who hadn't cried or pleaded even when pointed at a gun and left alone for days, did she finally shed tears, revealing her need for him. It was as if he had acquired a unique work of art, a work of art with meaning beyond its outward appearance, a thrill that almost felt fulfilling. He longed to see her emotionally moved, no matter what form it took, by him, not by someone else. He longed to see the real expressions that would be captured on her pale, indifferent face.
He liked it. Because it's self-centered and not kind.
Noah felt a strange sense of discovery, as if he had found a clue to something he had been searching for for a long time.
He knew what he wanted.
Fortunately, the mad Duke's desires turned towards a gentlemanly direction.
If it were the opposite, the two would have been described as a dilapidated, thriller, or horror film.
She has nothing but him, and all she needs is him.
He also liked the possibility that he might become a unique being.
Of course, many tried to be special and unique to Noah. But none of them were satisfactory or complete. Even his parents, the Duke and Duchess of Rotsilt, couldn't do it.
I saved her first, so she's mine now. It's a promise.
Noah's lips curled loosely as he recalled a promise he had made with someone in the past.
“Vincent.”
"Yes."
Vincent, the secretary standing in front of Noah, had a very nervous expression on his face, as if he was about to tell him something serious.
“Do you have a girlfriend?”
Vincent's once serious eyes became empty.
“I’m too busy with work to date.”
"I see."
“You’ve been in love before, haven’t you?”
“I just met her a few times because she asked me to. What kind of relationship is that?”
Vincent slammed a stack of papers on his desk, looking exhausted. He looked out the window for a moment, reminiscing.
“Everyone cried. Even the Princess of Medea.”
The words, 'You even held a gun to make Miss Claire cry,' lingered in Vincent's mouth, but he swallowed them.
"Him? I met her only to reject her because she kept sending me annoying letters."
"That's true. Since the heir to Medea's throne can only marry a Medean, I suppose we'll have to meet. If you marry someone from another race, you'll lose your right to succeed."
“The Princess is Diana.”
Vincent pretended to listen roughly because it was a headache to understand Noah's peculiar thoughts.
"Yes."
“How can I keep her from running away? In a good way.”
“Are you talking about Miss Claire?”
"Yes."
Vincent remembered that he'd recently stocked up on a significant number of romance books. There was no way the man would read them, and they were clearly requested by Diana. A story about bonds and romantic feelings? A means and method to ensure they held on.
“Do what women like.”
“What should I do?”
“Don’t you know?”
“I’ve never really given a gift to a woman.”
Noah nodded and smiled. Vincent, who had been alone for a long time, with no time for romance, blurted out something he could remember.
"They like gifts like jewelry, accessories, and dresses. And they prefer a capable man. She won't run away. Don't worry."
“I know that. Don’t just give them a vague answer, right?”
Noah squinted his eyes and tapped his cheek with the finger resting on his chin. Vincent, who had been caught, looked embarrassed.
"She'll probably like what she's never experienced before. She was severely discriminated against by the eldest daughter, after all."
“So I tried to give her one of the things the admiral's eldest daughter had, but she didn't want it. I said I'd make a carpet out of bear skin.”
"It might be a matter of personal taste. If you're an animal lover, you might hate it."
“You like animals, so why do you hate them?”
“Because you don’t want the person you like to die.”
Fox fur is really good for wrapping.
Noah lifted his chin and sighed. Vincent was looking out the window at the mountain ridge. This place was surrounded by mountains and forests, quite far from the city.
“She can’t run away anyway, right?”
“She doesn’t even want to think about running away.”
"Anyway, give her something she'd like. At least stop by every day to check in. Women like men who care. In fact, if you put your heart into it, even flowers picked on the street are appreciated."
Noah, who had been resting his chin on Vincent's sincere answer, smiled.
“Then go out and buy something. I’ll write it down for you.”
It takes a full two hours to drive downtown, but a four-hour round trip? Vincent nodded with a gloomy expression, convinced he'd be working overtime again. Noah tilted his head and asked.
"Vincent. Where should I pick flowers? It's winter, so there aren't any flowers on the road."
“Let’s wait until spring.”
"You can do it, right? It seems like a personal experience. I don't think you'd buy it from a florist or say you picked it on the street."
At Noah's words, Vincent sighed and touched his forehead.
***
I felt the warm sunlight settle on my eyelids. I must have fallen into a deep, faint sleep.
Noah said he'd tell me something, but I didn't ask what it was. So many shocking events had happened, and I was so exhausted and worn out that I couldn't think. My whole body still ached, and I felt heavy as if I were soaking wet cotton.
“Wasn’t it morning?”
I glanced out the window and was startled. The crimson sky wasn't sunrise, but sunset. I'd slept so long that my head felt like it was going to explode, so I gulped down water. I pulled the bell to summon Molly, and she brought me food.
After dinner, I slowly got up and soaked in the warm bathtub. I felt all my remaining fatigue melt away. Molly, who was dissolving bath salts in the water, asked me a personal question for the first time.
“Is this on your wingbone? Are you hurt?”
“Huh? What do you have?”
“You have a butterfly-shaped scar. Did you know it’s been there since I first met you?”
I have no way of knowing this body in detail. I'm just a supporting character who dies early on.
Perhaps there was a hidden secret of birth, and that I was a runaway slave? This is a brand.
“I don’t know either.”
Molly didn't ask any further questions and simply took care of my bath. After washing and changing, Vincent, looking extremely tired, arrived. He was followed by maids, each with their hands full of things.
“What is it?”
“Anything you like.”
What are you talking about?
Molly and the maids began to unwrap the items and open the boxes to take them out.
The blush on their face gave off a hint of excitement.
Hats with elaborate corsages, walking gowns, dresses made of various rich fabrics, coats lined with ermine, and all sorts of jewels and ornaments were piled up like Christmas presents.
“The Duke sent it.”
"Yes."
I looked at them with a disinterested expression. "Just give me some thick pajamas, wool socks, and fluffy slippers." Vincent's wheat-colored eyes fluttered slightly at my dry response. He cleared his throat sharply.
“Do you not like it?”
“I don’t have anywhere to go?”
The maids, who had been unnecessarily excited, became quiet, and a chilling silence enveloped the room. I added in a calm tone.
“And there is no mirror in this room.”
They say one way to bully someone is to dress them up in fancy clothes and never let them see themselves in the mirror. This is undoubtedly the elegant bullying of a learned person.
“I’ll put it there right away. That’s because it’s where we stored war spoils and art.”
Am I one of the spoils of war? The countless death flags and hardships have made me a cynical person. Feeling slightly uncomfortable, I pursed my lips.
“Yes, yes, I’ll decorate it with this as if it were a spoil of war.”
“Why are you so negative? You’re treating the hostages so leniently.”
Vincent, responding in a businesslike voice, confirmed that all the items had been brought in and ordered the maids to put them away.
“I will report the inconvenience you mentioned to Your Excellency.”
"Yes."
After Vincent and the maids left, I collapsed back into bed. I couldn't understand why he kept trying to be nice to me when he was just going to get rid of me when he lost interest. Perhaps it was because I possessed the beauty of the century.
Based on the original's personality, he could be a character who enjoys giving hope and then inflicting despair. It's a playful indulgence reserved for the wealthy.
As the sun had completely set and darkness was falling, a light knock was heard.
“Come in.”
"Is Molly here?" I asked lazily, stretching out on the bed.
“Are you sleeping again?”
Noah came in, wearing a dark brown lounge suit under a long black coat, and tilted his head.
The atmosphere was so eerie, it felt like watching a scene from a movie. He took off the gloves he was wearing, placed his bare hand on my forehead, and took my temperature.
“It’s not a cold.”
This guy... comes too often, unlike the original. I tried to hide my annoyance and raised my upper body.
“What’s going on?”
“You said you were sad because you had nowhere to go, even though you had pretty clothes?”
When did I! That damn secretary has a tendency to exaggerate.
“I wasn’t sad...”
“You had a sad expression.”
“I think that’s just how it was.”
“Yeah, that’s right. It’s pathetic.”
Noah was looking at me with a pitiful expression, as if his words and actions were consistent.
I sighed and brushed my bangs away from my eyebrows.
“Yes, yes. I admit it.”
“I came to go out with you. I wanted to give you a place to wear it.”
“...Wow, this is exciting.”
I clapped my hands a few times, answering absentmindedly. Going out is one of the things I most dread.
“But my hair is all over the place.”
“Molly will make you pretty again. I’ll go out and wait for you, so come out when you’re done.”
I tried my best to get him to cancel his outing, but it didn't work. After Noah left, Molly came in, changed my clothes, and straightened my unkempt hair with a hot iron.
I waved my hand in refusal as she took out the powder and applied only lipstick made of beeswax and flower petals.
“I think I’m going on a date.”
“That’s right.”
Molly answered concisely. Her expression was cold and indifferent, but her hands were delicate.
I don't know what she did, but she must have put in all her effort, as sweat beaded on her forehead.
Molly, who had brought an emerald necklace and earring set, made a low humming sound.
“You don’t have your ears pierced.”
“Oh, that’s right.”
“I’ll break it open for you now.”
“No, wait!”
I screamed in fear when I saw Molly's strong arms, but luckily, it didn't hurt, and she quickly pierced and disinfected my ears.
“I’ll change to smaller earrings instead. Big earrings would hurt.”
Molly, who had put on the earrings and necklace, led me to the full-length mirror she had brought earlier.
Her expression seemed subtly pleased. Looking in the mirror, I was slightly surprised to see a strange woman I hadn't seen in a long time.
The once emaciated crow had now put on a beautiful, plump figure. My once pale and gaunt cheeks had plumped up and taken on a rosy glow. My once frizzy, jet-black hair had become silky and bouncy, thanks to protein intake, and the dark circles under my eyes, once worn down by arduous labor, had faded.
After decorating it, I realized that it wasn't actually sharp.
“Looking at it this way, it seems okay.”
“Yes, you are pretty.”
She responded to my soliloquy with a blank expression, but seemed slightly excited. Molly dressed me in a deep purple velvet dress, a coat with a luxurious outer fabric, and a brooch-fastening collar. The lining, she said, was coyote fur.
Here, wearing elbow-length silk gloves and high-heeled shoes, I look like a woman of urban wealth. As expected, short hair completes the look. Noah, who was reading the newspaper while waiting for me to finish getting ready, took a moment to admire me before nodding.
“It suits you well. You look good in anything you wear.”
“Have you ever seen the same white pajamas day and night?”
“They were all different. The lace, the buttons, the materials.”
I don't really know the subtle differences. I just wore whatever was given to me.
A classic black car was parked near the mansion's entrance. Vincent sat in the driver's seat, his face expressionless. His expression was a bit listless, as if the world were about to end.
“Get in, Princess.”
Noah opened the backseat door and smiled brightly.
“It’s our first date, like any other couple.”
“A date? A lover?”
Had we become a couple without me knowing? Just because I said I loved him? I felt like I'd been hit in the head, and I stared blankly at Noah's face.
Mwehehe I like this one 🤭 it's so fun!
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