The fork blade was deeply embedded in the back of Mastiff's hand. He frowned, staring at his own hand and mine, which held the fork. As I pulled the fork out without hesitation, blood trickled down the back of the Mastiff's hand. I put the fork down and, enduring his murderous gaze, feigned composure. He seemed to have regained his composure, and then he muttered appreciatively.
“No, there was only one. But he died.”
The threatening words made my stomach ache, but I raised the corners of my mouth slightly. "You can't kill me anyway, right?" I looked straight into his ferocious face, not avoiding it. I couldn't back down like this. These guys want fun and stimulation.
“So isn’t that fun?”
Rather than being tormented to the point of death, it's better to pursue other curiosities and interests. Our eyes met sharply. The ticking of the clock marked the silence.
“Do you know what I’ve heard most in my life?”
At my words, which broke the silence, Mastiff drew closer to me. His eyes were filled with curiosity and wonder.
I answered, looking straight at him with force in my voice.
“Crazy bitch.”
"You modern-day lunatic, you modern-day lunatic," he said, grimacing as if he'd just been told an unpleasant joke, then letting out a snort of laughter.
Soon, he leaned back in his chair, revealing his white teeth, and burst into a hearty laugh. The Mastiff's laughter, which had been going on for a long time, gradually subsided and dissipated, leaving his shoulders shaking in the afterglow.
He crossed his legs and wiggled his toes in his slippers, then swept his golden hair back to reveal his clean forehead.
“Is it because she is Duke Noah Rotsilt’s lover?”
Mastiff got up from his seat, came close to me, bent down, and looked down at me.
“This is not normal.”
Although I was intimidated by his tall stature and physique, I held my head high and looked up at him.
“I’ve been through a lot of this. How many people have tried to kill me?”
The moment I gained enormous wealth in my original life, the word death followed me like a shadow.
Perhaps it was because I came into this world and was killed silently while I slept. I continued, imagining the vile, ferocious eyes of those who each had their own hunger.
"Everyone would be happy if I died. I was the one who monopolized food among the starving. That was me."
Mastiff's hard, cold face softened.
"Your death brings happiness to everyone. That's quite a totalitarian story."
“No. It’s different.”
My relatives wanted me to share the enormous inheritance I'd inherited fairly. Since it was a matter of dividing up what wasn't mine, rather than carving up what belonged to others, they believed that one person's sacrifice was natural, justified, and a good thing for everyone.
Mastiff seemed very interested in my story. He sat up straight and looked at me with interest, as if he were listening to a story about his first love.
“Could you tell me more? Your story.”
It's a strategy of sorts, a Thousand and One Nights. It's the story of a clever woman who, after being forced to hold the clock of a cruel king who murdered women who held the clock, saved her life by telling stories every night for 1,001 days.
If you're handcuffed for a thousand days, you won't have any wrists left.
"I'm bored, so I'll do that. If you promise not to touch me from now on and let me live without the handcuffs, I'll tell you the story every day. The story of the people who tried to kill me."
I paused for a moment and smiled.
“And rather, the people I killed.”
Mastiff's turquoise eyes, immersed in the intriguing trailer, darkened and then turned bright blue. Of course, I didn't take their life, but they were socially killed, leaving them with no chance of recovery.
He laughed strangely and joyfully.
"You're not that stupid. It's been a while since I've had so much fun, so I'll grant your request."
"All right."
He might realize I'd sent Noah a letter revealing my location and take me somewhere else. I looked down at the scars on my hands, feeling helpless. All this man had guaranteed was my life.
Mastiff came into my room before I fell asleep and listened to my story. His calm eyes gazed at me, absorbed in my story. I recounted my original life story, adapting it to my circumstances and the local context as best I could.
It was a little burdensome to sit up straight and listen as if you were listening to a lecture from a tweezers instructor, but I was relieved that I had managed to suppress hia murderous instincts to this extent.
“I quietly walked to the empty room where I had heard the rustling sound and grabbed the doorknob...”
As the conversation was getting heated, the grandfather clock in the hallway outside the room started to chime, signaling 10 o'clock at night.
“Next time.”
"Ah."
The Mastiff, engrossed in my incredible cutting skills, slapped his knee and sighed. We set a rule: story time is one hour every day, from 9 to 10 p.m.
He jumped up, his golden hair tousled with a resentful look in his eyes.
“I can’t kill you because you make me so curious.”
“You said from the beginning that you wouldn’t kill me, right?”
Whether he was talking in a double-crossing tone or threatening, I crossed my arms and raised my chin proudly.
“I need to go to bed now, so come back tomorrow. Lack of sleep is the enemy of beauty.”
“You’re really unusual. It’s not like I’ve never seen someone like you before.”
Mastiff, with a regretful expression and a wheezing sound, left the room with a long sigh, occasionally looking back.
The next morning, I woke up to the loud chirping of birds outside the window.
Mastiff in a suit brought something along with the meal. Judging by the way he kept bringing it to me, it seemed like he didn't have a separate maid.
I looked sadly at the white dust piled up on the dresser. "Why don't you clean it up while you're at it?" I thought. My throat felt tight. Mastiff held out the box he'd brought under his arm.
"These are clothes and shoes to change into. I bought them by eyeballing the measurements."
I opened the box he gave me, took out the clothes, and looked through them.
“My taste is...”
Isn't this the typical villainess uniform? It's a seductive black dress with a narrow, tight skirt and a revealing cleavage. I already have a gloomy and dark impression, but this would make me look like the perfect villainess.
“Thank you for buying it for me, but I don’t think I can handle it.”
Mastiff's eyes scanned me up and down, then stroked his chin.
“I don’t think there’s anything you can’t do. It seems like it would suit you.”
"I don't look very good, so I'll probably look like a witch. I don't want to be burned at the stake."
"When are you talking about the enemy? And I know that witch hunts involve hanging stones and drowning them in water. They say if you live, you're a witch, and if you die, you're human."
That must have been the witch hunt of Frogen. If you don't like it to that extent, why don't you just die? Mastiff chuckled at me, looking at me in a neat dress that covered my neck.
"Are the clothes you're wearing now to his liking, the Duke? He's surprisingly conservative. How can you wrap yourself so tightly?"
“Hey, how do you know Noah?”
He didn't seem to harbor any ill will toward Noah. Rather, he was friendly and spoke to him as if he were an old friend.
As Mastiff reminisced, his well-defined jaw tilted to the side, revealing a well-groomed profile. From an aesthetic standpoint, this man is also a beauty, but Noah is so much my style that I can't help but think otherwise.
"I've known him since childhood, and we went to the same school. It's been a while since I last saw him, since he was posted to the occupied territory."
“I guess you were friends.”
There's no way you'd kidnap your friend's fiancée. It was a pointless question, but Mastiff, sitting across from me, slumped down, his mouth curved loosely.
“Friends. That’s what I think.”
"Oh, right, this guy's not normal," Mastiff continued, his legs crossed and his shoes clicking on his sleek suit trousers.
"I was curious when I heard he had a girlfriend. What kind of woman was she? I thought he wasn't interested in relationships."
He took out the pajamas that were lying under his dark clothes with a strangely displeased expression on his face.
“I also bought you pajamas, so you can wear them to sleep.”
"Wow."
Even the pajamas reflected his taste, being incredibly bold and racy. My eyes widened as I picked up a scrap of fabric that seemed hardly pajamas. No matter how I looked at it, it didn't look like something worn for a good night's sleep.
I can't live wearing the same clothes as him, so there's nothing I can do. I continued to speak to him in a friendly manner.
I once read in a book about how to deal with kidnapping and confinement that you should try to build friendly relationships.
I thought that if I asked around, I might be able to find similar hobbies or interests and build a rapport (Noah gave the odd answer, "I'm the same as you.").
“Do you have a favorite?”
“I think I said that at the beginning.”
“Isn’t there anything a bit ordinary? What are your hobbies?”
"Torture."
I couldn't sympathize and say, "I don't have any hobbies like that, so next time I have time, let's torture someone together!"
“... You're quite the sadist.”
"It seems you've read Count Sadrian's book, 'The Correct Method of Torture.' I see you know his nickname."
Are you saying there was someone like that here, too? I cleared my throat loudly.
“No, I didn’t even know there was such a book.”
"Anyway, it seems like you're interested in me. How did you know I'm rich?"
Mastiff rested his chin on his hand and grinned. He seemed to be seriously misunderstanding something.
"That's one way to prevent the Duke from marrying you. It's possible, since you're not too different from my tastes. I prefer small, pitiful women."
Are you saying that I look so pitiful that even a murderer would feel pity for me?
“No, no... I’m not the type of person who likes to be taken advantage of, so I can’t be your partner.”
The man, like a sharp glass sword, tapped his chin with his finger and muttered softly.
“What could be so good about it?”
"Yes?"
"No. I'll come back later this evening. I look forward to hearing from you next time."
I'll have to cut it off at another point. Even the psycho king from A Thousand and One Nights didn't kill a woman for a thousand days because he was so curious about the next episode.
I don't have a thousand stories to tell like that woman. I may get a chance to escape before then.
By now, Noah will have received the letter and will come with soldiers or police to rescue me.
"So I started investigating the ex-boyfriend who sneaked into my house, and there was a huge twist. Actually...!"
The grandfather clock chimed again, signaling 10 p.m. The Mastiff's brow furrowed sharply, and he clenched his fists.
“Are you doing this on purpose?”
“No, really? As we were talking, it was cut off appropriately.”
“How about giving us a rough preview?”
“Hey, then it’s not fun.”
Mastiff sighed deeply, got up, and left the room. Left alone, I sat on the bed, rubbing my chin and lost in thought.
If you knew you weren't stupid, you would have noticed that your location was discovered, so why are you still staying in this mansion?
Perhaps the police or soldiers are already swarming the area, conducting a search and seizure. It doesn't seem easy to escape this place. Or is he waiting for Noah to come to him? Mastiff spoke as if he acknowledged his friend.
Perhaps he just wanted to see his old friend... I shook my head, thinking this was too much. There was no way Noah would come to my rescue all by himself.
Well, that actually happened.
I was fast asleep, buried in the blanket, when I felt a familiar scent and warm breath settle on my face, and I slowly lifted my eyelids.
It was still dawn, the surroundings dark. I opened my eyes and looked around, finding a man sitting next to my bed in the dimly lit room, looking down at me. I was about to scream in surprise when a large, cold hand covered my mouth.
"It's me."
A familiar, affectionate voice stroked my head.
“No, there was only one. But he died.”
The threatening words made my stomach ache, but I raised the corners of my mouth slightly. "You can't kill me anyway, right?" I looked straight into his ferocious face, not avoiding it. I couldn't back down like this. These guys want fun and stimulation.
“So isn’t that fun?”
Rather than being tormented to the point of death, it's better to pursue other curiosities and interests. Our eyes met sharply. The ticking of the clock marked the silence.
“Do you know what I’ve heard most in my life?”
At my words, which broke the silence, Mastiff drew closer to me. His eyes were filled with curiosity and wonder.
I answered, looking straight at him with force in my voice.
“Crazy bitch.”
"You modern-day lunatic, you modern-day lunatic," he said, grimacing as if he'd just been told an unpleasant joke, then letting out a snort of laughter.
Soon, he leaned back in his chair, revealing his white teeth, and burst into a hearty laugh. The Mastiff's laughter, which had been going on for a long time, gradually subsided and dissipated, leaving his shoulders shaking in the afterglow.
He crossed his legs and wiggled his toes in his slippers, then swept his golden hair back to reveal his clean forehead.
“Is it because she is Duke Noah Rotsilt’s lover?”
Mastiff got up from his seat, came close to me, bent down, and looked down at me.
“This is not normal.”
Although I was intimidated by his tall stature and physique, I held my head high and looked up at him.
“I’ve been through a lot of this. How many people have tried to kill me?”
The moment I gained enormous wealth in my original life, the word death followed me like a shadow.
Perhaps it was because I came into this world and was killed silently while I slept. I continued, imagining the vile, ferocious eyes of those who each had their own hunger.
"Everyone would be happy if I died. I was the one who monopolized food among the starving. That was me."
Mastiff's hard, cold face softened.
"Your death brings happiness to everyone. That's quite a totalitarian story."
“No. It’s different.”
My relatives wanted me to share the enormous inheritance I'd inherited fairly. Since it was a matter of dividing up what wasn't mine, rather than carving up what belonged to others, they believed that one person's sacrifice was natural, justified, and a good thing for everyone.
Mastiff seemed very interested in my story. He sat up straight and looked at me with interest, as if he were listening to a story about his first love.
“Could you tell me more? Your story.”
It's a strategy of sorts, a Thousand and One Nights. It's the story of a clever woman who, after being forced to hold the clock of a cruel king who murdered women who held the clock, saved her life by telling stories every night for 1,001 days.
If you're handcuffed for a thousand days, you won't have any wrists left.
"I'm bored, so I'll do that. If you promise not to touch me from now on and let me live without the handcuffs, I'll tell you the story every day. The story of the people who tried to kill me."
I paused for a moment and smiled.
“And rather, the people I killed.”
Mastiff's turquoise eyes, immersed in the intriguing trailer, darkened and then turned bright blue. Of course, I didn't take their life, but they were socially killed, leaving them with no chance of recovery.
He laughed strangely and joyfully.
"You're not that stupid. It's been a while since I've had so much fun, so I'll grant your request."
"All right."
He might realize I'd sent Noah a letter revealing my location and take me somewhere else. I looked down at the scars on my hands, feeling helpless. All this man had guaranteed was my life.
***
Mastiff came into my room before I fell asleep and listened to my story. His calm eyes gazed at me, absorbed in my story. I recounted my original life story, adapting it to my circumstances and the local context as best I could.
It was a little burdensome to sit up straight and listen as if you were listening to a lecture from a tweezers instructor, but I was relieved that I had managed to suppress hia murderous instincts to this extent.
“I quietly walked to the empty room where I had heard the rustling sound and grabbed the doorknob...”
As the conversation was getting heated, the grandfather clock in the hallway outside the room started to chime, signaling 10 o'clock at night.
“Next time.”
"Ah."
The Mastiff, engrossed in my incredible cutting skills, slapped his knee and sighed. We set a rule: story time is one hour every day, from 9 to 10 p.m.
He jumped up, his golden hair tousled with a resentful look in his eyes.
“I can’t kill you because you make me so curious.”
“You said from the beginning that you wouldn’t kill me, right?”
Whether he was talking in a double-crossing tone or threatening, I crossed my arms and raised my chin proudly.
“I need to go to bed now, so come back tomorrow. Lack of sleep is the enemy of beauty.”
“You’re really unusual. It’s not like I’ve never seen someone like you before.”
Mastiff, with a regretful expression and a wheezing sound, left the room with a long sigh, occasionally looking back.
The next morning, I woke up to the loud chirping of birds outside the window.
Mastiff in a suit brought something along with the meal. Judging by the way he kept bringing it to me, it seemed like he didn't have a separate maid.
I looked sadly at the white dust piled up on the dresser. "Why don't you clean it up while you're at it?" I thought. My throat felt tight. Mastiff held out the box he'd brought under his arm.
"These are clothes and shoes to change into. I bought them by eyeballing the measurements."
I opened the box he gave me, took out the clothes, and looked through them.
“My taste is...”
Isn't this the typical villainess uniform? It's a seductive black dress with a narrow, tight skirt and a revealing cleavage. I already have a gloomy and dark impression, but this would make me look like the perfect villainess.
“Thank you for buying it for me, but I don’t think I can handle it.”
Mastiff's eyes scanned me up and down, then stroked his chin.
“I don’t think there’s anything you can’t do. It seems like it would suit you.”
"I don't look very good, so I'll probably look like a witch. I don't want to be burned at the stake."
"When are you talking about the enemy? And I know that witch hunts involve hanging stones and drowning them in water. They say if you live, you're a witch, and if you die, you're human."
That must have been the witch hunt of Frogen. If you don't like it to that extent, why don't you just die? Mastiff chuckled at me, looking at me in a neat dress that covered my neck.
"Are the clothes you're wearing now to his liking, the Duke? He's surprisingly conservative. How can you wrap yourself so tightly?"
“Hey, how do you know Noah?”
He didn't seem to harbor any ill will toward Noah. Rather, he was friendly and spoke to him as if he were an old friend.
As Mastiff reminisced, his well-defined jaw tilted to the side, revealing a well-groomed profile. From an aesthetic standpoint, this man is also a beauty, but Noah is so much my style that I can't help but think otherwise.
"I've known him since childhood, and we went to the same school. It's been a while since I last saw him, since he was posted to the occupied territory."
“I guess you were friends.”
There's no way you'd kidnap your friend's fiancée. It was a pointless question, but Mastiff, sitting across from me, slumped down, his mouth curved loosely.
“Friends. That’s what I think.”
"Oh, right, this guy's not normal," Mastiff continued, his legs crossed and his shoes clicking on his sleek suit trousers.
"I was curious when I heard he had a girlfriend. What kind of woman was she? I thought he wasn't interested in relationships."
He took out the pajamas that were lying under his dark clothes with a strangely displeased expression on his face.
“I also bought you pajamas, so you can wear them to sleep.”
"Wow."
Even the pajamas reflected his taste, being incredibly bold and racy. My eyes widened as I picked up a scrap of fabric that seemed hardly pajamas. No matter how I looked at it, it didn't look like something worn for a good night's sleep.
I can't live wearing the same clothes as him, so there's nothing I can do. I continued to speak to him in a friendly manner.
I once read in a book about how to deal with kidnapping and confinement that you should try to build friendly relationships.
I thought that if I asked around, I might be able to find similar hobbies or interests and build a rapport (Noah gave the odd answer, "I'm the same as you.").
“Do you have a favorite?”
“I think I said that at the beginning.”
“Isn’t there anything a bit ordinary? What are your hobbies?”
"Torture."
I couldn't sympathize and say, "I don't have any hobbies like that, so next time I have time, let's torture someone together!"
“... You're quite the sadist.”
"It seems you've read Count Sadrian's book, 'The Correct Method of Torture.' I see you know his nickname."
Are you saying there was someone like that here, too? I cleared my throat loudly.
“No, I didn’t even know there was such a book.”
"Anyway, it seems like you're interested in me. How did you know I'm rich?"
Mastiff rested his chin on his hand and grinned. He seemed to be seriously misunderstanding something.
"That's one way to prevent the Duke from marrying you. It's possible, since you're not too different from my tastes. I prefer small, pitiful women."
Are you saying that I look so pitiful that even a murderer would feel pity for me?
“No, no... I’m not the type of person who likes to be taken advantage of, so I can’t be your partner.”
The man, like a sharp glass sword, tapped his chin with his finger and muttered softly.
“What could be so good about it?”
"Yes?"
"No. I'll come back later this evening. I look forward to hearing from you next time."
I'll have to cut it off at another point. Even the psycho king from A Thousand and One Nights didn't kill a woman for a thousand days because he was so curious about the next episode.
I don't have a thousand stories to tell like that woman. I may get a chance to escape before then.
By now, Noah will have received the letter and will come with soldiers or police to rescue me.
***
"So I started investigating the ex-boyfriend who sneaked into my house, and there was a huge twist. Actually...!"
The grandfather clock chimed again, signaling 10 p.m. The Mastiff's brow furrowed sharply, and he clenched his fists.
“Are you doing this on purpose?”
“No, really? As we were talking, it was cut off appropriately.”
“How about giving us a rough preview?”
“Hey, then it’s not fun.”
Mastiff sighed deeply, got up, and left the room. Left alone, I sat on the bed, rubbing my chin and lost in thought.
If you knew you weren't stupid, you would have noticed that your location was discovered, so why are you still staying in this mansion?
Perhaps the police or soldiers are already swarming the area, conducting a search and seizure. It doesn't seem easy to escape this place. Or is he waiting for Noah to come to him? Mastiff spoke as if he acknowledged his friend.
Perhaps he just wanted to see his old friend... I shook my head, thinking this was too much. There was no way Noah would come to my rescue all by himself.
Well, that actually happened.
I was fast asleep, buried in the blanket, when I felt a familiar scent and warm breath settle on my face, and I slowly lifted my eyelids.
It was still dawn, the surroundings dark. I opened my eyes and looked around, finding a man sitting next to my bed in the dimly lit room, looking down at me. I was about to scream in surprise when a large, cold hand covered my mouth.
"It's me."
A familiar, affectionate voice stroked my head.
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