Chapter 11

Late at night, Kallain was reading the woman’s sparse employment documents.

The head of Agriche, pale-faced, had handed over all the information he had on her.

Since Sir Jayden hadn’t yet acquired any proper intelligence, the only things he knew for now were what was written in this document.

The woman’s handwriting on the application form was neat and elegant.

It wasn’t the type of script typical noble ladies would use, but rather written with a steady, honest hand—like someone who should be working as a royal scribe in the imperial palace.

The pages he flipped through mostly listed familiar details.

Her name was Sylvia.

It was a name that suited her well—dignified and upright, just like the posture she always maintained.

In that sense, the small bag she carried had felt oddly out of place.

A leather bag like that was something only commoners would typically carry, and it stood out.

That was the only reason he asked, “Is that all your belongings?” … but the woman had reacted quite sharply.

Perhaps she felt insulted—her piercing gaze had been vivid.

Well, it wasn’t something worth worrying about anyway.

What did it matter how she looked at him or what she thought of him?

In the end, she was just a purifier, and he was her employer. That was all.

As Sir Jayden had said, it would be fortunate if there were no issues.

If there were a critical flaw in the purifier he’d finally found after all this time, then that would be a problem of its own.

His drifting thoughts were cut short when the bell rang.

“Come in.”

Assuming it was Sir Jayden, he gave permission to enter—but when the door opened and the silence lingered, he found the atmosphere strange and lifted his gaze.

Standing there… was the very woman who had filled his thoughts just moments ago.

Now what grand statement is she going to make this time?

“I have something to tell you.”

She appeared confident, yet her slender body was trembling ever so slightly again.

A faint smirk tugged at his lips.

He’d already had a vague suspicion that she came here, risking such danger, with some ulterior motive.

Still… to reveal her true intentions this quickly?

Typical noble ladies were quick to call him a monster from afar, but once they saw him in person, a different kind of light would fill their eyes.

Despite the title of the Blood Grand Duke, many were struck by the fact that he didn’t look like a monster at all, with all his limbs intact—and it seemed to leave a lasting impression.

There were even those who burned with determination after seeing him.

Even the dancers Sir Jayden had brought over the years were the same.

Half curiosity, half fear—that’s how they looked at him. But by the time they danced, they were more eager than anyone.

It was as if just seeing his face stripped away the reputation of the Blood Grand Duke who brings death.

Or maybe it was because their pitch-black desires to become the next Grand Duchess dulled their sense of reason.

Either way, it was all laughable.

Of course, he couldn’t care less. As long as they were talented Purifiers who were compatible with him, he would hire them.

Their desires would go unfulfilled, but curing this disgusting rampage was a necessity.

Any false hopes they nurtured—that was their own burden to carry. It had nothing to do with him.

Employer and employee. That was the line. Pay what’s fair, take what’s needed. Nothing more.

The woman before him was just one more among those called in for that purpose.

But now, seeing her act like this here of all times, it struck him as oddly amusing.

‘Coming to me at this hour, claiming she has something to say?

Isn’t it too obvious?

So she’s no different from the rest after all.’

He felt half disappointed—and half intrigued.

The only reason that intrigue managed to sneak in was probably because she happened to be his type.

“What is it?”

At his question, the woman’s frail body trembled once more.

She came here on her own, yet she looked like a frightened mouse dragged into a trap.

Still, she pretended like it didn’t bother her, and the sight of it was so amusing he couldn’t help but stare.

To an outsider, it might’ve looked like he’d abducted her and was about to torture her.

If this was some new form of seduction, then she had succeeded.

Because he was already halfway aroused.

Sylvia pressed her lips together, then let out a soft “Ah—” as if in a small gasp.

In the moment she cursed herself for how oddly sensual the sound had come out, the woman got straight to the point.

“I’d like Your Grace to sponsor Monet.”

It took him a moment to process what she had just said.

It was a simple request, yet so unexpected that his mind seemed to short-circuit.

Kallain stared blankly at her for a moment.

So—what she came here to say, at this hour, in his office, was that she wanted him to sponsor her friend?

He’d heard before that sponsorships were quite important among the dancers.

The prestige of one’s sponsor could determine their standing or rank.

It was one of the reasons so many noble ladies had thrown themselves at him—trying to win his favor in hopes of securing a title under his name.

But that didn’t matter to him. Not once had he ever agreed to sponsor anyone.

Not because of some particular reason.

He just had no interest in doing something that would stoke the ambitions of those eager to become his duchess. It was a hassle he didn’t care to entertain.

But this time, the situation was different.

Putting his name on her friend’s sponsorship wouldn’t lead to any future nuisance.

Sponsoring her was as simple as saving a life—it wasn’t difficult.

A sponsor didn’t need to actually do anything. It was just a title, an honorary listing created by the nobles who liked to play their little prestige games. All he had to do was put his name on the list.

If he did that, then—just as this woman wanted—her friend would be able to live on at Agriche without being harassed.

Normally, it would’ve been the kind of favor he granted without a word.

But this time—

For some reason, with this woman, he didn’t want to do it.

“And why should I?”

The words came out laced with thorns.

Her request—right after completely betraying what he’d just been thinking—rubbed him the wrong way.

It was beyond absurd—he felt like he’d been chasing something alone, only to trip and fall flat on his face.

Not long ago, he’d been worried that this woman might harbor some improper desires for him—and now here he was, throwing a fit just because she didn’t?

If this wasn’t some kind of illness, then what was it?

And to top it off, this was the childish, pathetic way he’d chosen to express it.

‘Immature bastard.’

Yeah. That title fit him perfectly. And so what?

If that’s the kind of immature and pathetic man he was—well, what could he do about it?

After all, the one who wants something is the one who needs to dig the tunnel.

She’d gotten under his skin, so as punishment, he wasn’t about to grant her request so easily.

Of course, she had no idea what he was thinking. And that, in itself, only made him more irritated.

His sharp words seemed to cut into her like a blade—her arm flinched slightly.

That subtle reaction stirred a strange sense of satisfaction in him.

But those clear, determined eyes didn’t waver. She stared him down without flinching.

Had anyone ever looked him straight in the eye like this, so boldly and for so long?

It was a jarring feeling—one he hadn’t experienced in a long time—and something twisted inside him once again.

And that twist only deepened when the woman opened her mouth and spoke.

“Your Grace needs me.”

“So this isn’t a request—you came to strike a deal?”

She didn’t respond, which meant… he was right.

She had the nerve to come and offer a deal? Then she’d have to pay the proper price.

“You must not know,” he said.

“……”

“I’ve done just fine without you until now.”

A flicker of emotion—startled, uncertain—shimmered over her golden eyes.

As if someone had thrown a stone into still water.

And knowing he was the one who’d cast that stone… was oddly satisfying.

She’d seemed like the type whose eyes would never show a single tremble—and yet here she was, shaking.

He felt like some twisted deviant.

This woman, who clearly didn’t even realize who she was standing in front of, glared at him fiercely and spoke:

“But that won’t be the case anymore.”

“Is that confidence I hear?”

“You’ve already had a taste, haven’t you?”

Gods. The things she said—sounding so lewd, all while wearing that innocent face.

A taste, she says. Anyone who heard that would definitely take it the wrong way.

Ah, of course—he knew full well that the woman had left out the word “Purification” at the end of her sentence.

But the problem was… adding that word only made it sound even more suggestive—and she clearly had no idea.

Was it just him?

The woman in front of him looked entirely unfazed.

Purification was something both the receiver and the giver could feel together—and yet, she acted as though she hadn’t felt a thing.

And here he was, getting shaken again by a single ridiculous line from her.

To make matters worse, she was looking at him with the most innocent eyes in the world… making him feel like he was the only perverted one for thinking such things.

That twisted something inside Kallain all over again.

“Confidence—I’ll give you that,” he said. “But what a shame…”

“I think I’ll be just fine continuing to live without a so-called Purifier.”

His eyes curved slightly in a smile, and the woman shot him a glare.

So what? She was the one who wanted something. He was the employer.

It was a laughable case of insubordination—but also entertaining enough to watch.

“You brought me all the way to the grand duke’s manor—didn’t that mean I was useful to you?”

“So?”

“I figured my abilities must be worth that much.”

The corners of her eyes wavered slightly.

“Was I wrong?”

“And if you were?”

“Then I suppose I’ll have to leave.”

Her words were bold, but her voice wavered with clear tremors. Ridiculously so.

She stared at him with eyes sharp enough to cut—but inside that narrow chest of hers, her heart had to be pounding.

No—not just pounding.

His gaze slowly slid down, tracing the line of her chest.