Conquer My Heart

Volume 2 part 1

 

The morning light had yet to rise.

Daon quietly entered the room and began cleaning.

Ixor stood in front of the washbasin, shaking the water off his hands.

Despite the presence of a naked man standing before her, she didn’t react.

She barely spared him a glance as she entered the room, looking at him with the indifference one would reserve for discarded laundry. Yet, there was a palpable tension between them, an electric current only the two of them could feel. The subtle unease of mutual awareness.

His tall, muscular figure seemed to intimidate her, something Ixor keenly noticed.

Watching her movements, he leisurely rubbed the back of his neck with his wet hands.

She was efficient, wiping the furniture and window sills, mopping the floor, and quickly tidying up the bedding before approaching him with a towel.

She handed it to him with composed grace, a gesture that hinted she wasn’t merely a plaything of the late count Drewbury or his eldest son, Alvin.

He accepted the towel in silence. Her gaze remained fixed on his chest, a habitual submissiveness honed in her years as a slave.

Ixor’s eyes lingered on her long eyelashes, slender neck, and small shoulders. Her expression gave nothing away, making her thoughts inscrutable.

He tilted her chin to lift her face and asked.

“How’s the wound on your leg?”

She didn’t answer. It was a clear message that said: whether it heals or not isn’t your concern.

Suddenly, he kissed her red lips. She stiffened in surprise, but he held her arm firmly to stop her from pulling away.

The kiss was short and intense, ending as abruptly as it began.

Her body tensed with resistance as Ixor leaned in, locking eyes with her. Her dark irises, deep as an abyss, revealed traces of fatigue, perhaps from sleepless nights.

He hovered close to her lips, mingling their warm breaths.

“Answer when I ask you a question,” he said.

Her gaze remained emotionless, her lips still tightly sealed. Ixor smirked coldly.

“Let me make it clear. When I ask something, you answer. That’s our rule.”

“…”

“Remember it. Or else, I’ll kiss you again.”

“Didn’t you say you wouldn’t touch me?”

She finally spoke.

He scoffed.

“No, what I said was, I wouldn’t go all the way without your consent. Isn’t that lenient enough?”

“…”

“Why? Should I change my approach if you don’t like it?”

Through the proximity of their bodies, he could feel her heart racing with anxiety.

Though her face remained calm, her body betrayed her emotions.

After a moment’s silence, she answered. “No.”

Satisfied, Ixor released her and handed her the wet towel. Daon quietly took it, collected the washbasin, and left the room.

While Zephar was reviewing documents related to Drewbury’s internal affairs, Ixor ventured out with his knights to inspect the newly acquired territory.

Orlanc was far from a prosperous land- it was a typical rural area with little to offer. It had no lucrative specialties or mines. Though there was a reasonably large forest, the streams were too narrow for effective logging.

Yet, the acquisition of this land had a purpose: to observe the king’s reaction.

Returning to the castle after a late dinner outside, Ixor entered his office.

Zephar, buried in a mountain of papers, looked up and reported.

“The prince plans to visit and offer his congratulations.”

“Congratulate me? Really?”

Ixor sneered coldly as he crossed his legs on the table and sank deeply into the bearskin-covered chair.

Zephar stood then handed him a bound stack of parchment.

Ixor, reclining comfortably, unrolled the document on his stomach.

It appeared that Drewbury, that old man, hadn’t been as meticulous as he seemed; the estate’s officials had embezzled a staggering amount right under his nose.

“When is the prince coming?”

“At the start of next month. He intends to stay for about a week.”

“Take care of anyone who needs to be removed before then.”

“Yes.”

“Oh, there’s one more thing to report.”

A snap of his fingers summoned a trusted subordinate, whom Ixor had assigned to monitor Daon’s every move and provide nightly updates.

While partly out of curiosity about her activities, it was also a precaution to prevent her escape.

The subordinate presented a detailed hourly report.

“Is this for today?”

Ixor asked, rubbing the corner of his brow. When the subordinate confirmed it, Ixor scanned the report again.

She had woken at 3 a.m. Is she nocturnal? By 3:30, she was sweeping the castle courtyard. By 4:30, she started kitchen work. At 5, she began attending to his morning routine. Then dishwashing, cleaning the western building, doing laundry, and preparing for lunch service.

Ixor exhaled deeply as he read through her grueling schedule.

Now it was 8 p.m., and she had just finished cleaning the kitchen.

The subordinate continued, “From 8 p.m. onward, she usually spends time in her quarters ironing or sewing. When there are parties, she embroiders dresses for the mistress.”

Ixor frowned.

“Let me get this straight-does anyone else in this castle work, or is it just her?”

“She’s been doing these tasks for years. It’s not new,” the subordinate replied cautiously.

“Does she even eat?”

The subordinate hesitated before answering.

“I’ve confirmed she eats lunch.”

Ixor didn’t bother asking how much.

If she had been eating well, she wouldn’t be so thin. Displeased, he tossed the report onto the table.

She wasn’t just a slave; she had been Drewbury’s mistress and Alvin’s lover. Yet the men had apparently ignored her struggles, either out of cowardice or indifference, letting her be tormented by the sharp-eyed mistress of the house.

A quiet household wasn’t always a sign of peace. Sometimes, unresolved tensions festered in unseen corners, dragging out conflicts.

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts.

Daon entered, carrying a tray of wine and fruit.

Ixor dismissed the subordinate with a glance and gestured for Daon to sit, making her hands momentarily stiffened around the tray.

Even Zephar, seated at a nearby desk, looked up in surprise.

Allowing a slave to sit at the same table as her master was unthinkable.

Ixor’s cold eyes gleamed. For a slave, sitting with her master was a punishable offense.

But disobeying a direct command was also grounds for execution.

What would she choose?

Daon chose to sit. Her movements were calm and graceful, her poise almost regal as she picked up a green apple and began peeling it.

The rhythmic sound of peeling filled the room.

Ixor watched her, a thrill rising within him. Yes, she was bold. Even with nothing to her name, she had faced him head-on in battle.

Rising from his chair, Ixor sat on the edge of the table across from her. Spreading his legs to rest them on either side of her chair, he leaned in, closing the space between them.

“Open your mouth,” he ordered playfully, holding out a piece of the apple.

“This is my game. Watching a woman’s lips move is one of my pleasures,” he said, his voice thick with innuendo.

Zephar coughed awkwardly in the background, but Ixor ignored him.

Daon obeyed, parting her lips slightly.

“Wider,” he instructed.

Her soft lips opened further, and he placed the apple slice inside. He watched her chew and swallow before offering another slice.

“Perfect,” he murmured, tearing small pieces of bread and feeding them to her as well.

Fixing his gaze on her dark eyes, he smeared strawberry jam on her lower lip with his thumb.

She remained composed, licking the jam off slowly with her tongue, her movements deliberate and provocative. It was a silent challenge, a passive yet unyielding defiance.

Intrigued, Ixor grabbed her hand, only to pause.

Her hands, worn from labor, felt fragile in his grip-so much so that he imagined they might break if he held them too tightly.

He abruptly released her hand, his tone light yet commanding.

“Bring meat tomorrow. I want to see those pretty lips glistening with oil-red….so..”

Zephar coughed again, this time louder, and pushed a stack of documents toward Ixor.

“You have tasks to attend to in the morning.”

Daon stood quietly, excused herself, and left the room.

As the door closed, Zephar cautiously asked.

“Why didn’t you take the advantage of last night?”

“Too easy,” Ixor replied, his tone indifferent.

Zephar sighed in exasperation.

“Of course, the gates of Orlanc opened without a fight, but you surely anticipated that. While you may be bored for a while, I won’t stop you from playing with women—just enjoy yourself moderately.”

“Why so dissatisfied?”

Ixor asked, pulling one leg up onto the table and picking up his drink.

Zephar’s face darkened in response.

“She’s a dangerous woman. Don’t get too involved with her.”

“Do you think it’s possible for someone to work like that all day? Grueling labor without rest, without showing signs of illness or fatigue. No complaints, no laziness. She doesn’t even seem to want anything from her labor. She’s not enjoying the work either. So, what do you think it is?”

“She’s enduring.”

“Exactly. She’s not a woman without emotions; she simply has exceptional self-restraint. No one calls that dangerous.”

“Her very existence is dangerous to you, my lord.”

“Fine, call it dangerous. Have I ever avoided danger?”

Ixor tilted his head slightly as he spoke, while Zephar responded with a troubled silence, looking up at the ceiling.

“Ah. Whenever danger arises, you fly toward it like a moth to a flame.”

“Not my favorite description…”

“It’s accurate, though,” Zephar muttered, settling back at the desk to resume scribbling paperwork.

Ixor chuckled lowly and glanced at the long bench where Daon had sat. His gaze fell to his hand, and he faintly recalled her scent still lingering on his palm.

Her thin wrist, her delicate skin—this was the first time he’d ever felt such emotion from holding a woman’s hand.

He gripped his glass firmly, as if trying to erase the feeling, and brought the strong liquor to his lips.

“That woman, Daon. With so many who despise her, someone will surely try to frame her soon enough. When that happens, I’ll sweep them all away. Be ready for it.”

 

***

 

“Why? You don’t like the gift?”

Ixor asked cynically, sitting on the edge of the bed as he pulled on his boots.

Daon stared silently at the expensive amethyst bracelet placed on the round table.

“It’s not a suitable accessory for me.”

As expected, she rejected it outright. 

Ixor shoved his arms into the loose sleeves of his shirt before speaking firmly.

“Whether it suits you or not is for me to decide.”

“I have no need to wear it.”

“Not going to the festival?”

“I’m not.”

“Then you’ll start going from this year.”

“…”

“Take it.”

“I have no place to keep it in my quarters.”

“Drewbury or Alvin never gave gifts to their lovers? Or were they aiming for something better than jewelry?” He mocked coldly.

Daon bent her knees slightly but didn’t even touch the bracelet as she walked away.

The finely crafted piece, one that noblewomen of the palace would clamor for, was treated like a pebble on the roadside.

Ixor wrinkled his nose in amusement. Her dry gaze at the jewelry suggested she held no interest in such trivial luxuries.

So, what would capture her interest? 

Bit by bit, like reeling in a fish, he would pull her closer, until she inevitably surrendered.

There was plenty of time—the game had just begun.

 

***

 

That noon, an accusation came from Daon’s quarters.

A brooch belonging to the previous Countess had been discovered there.

The accuser was a cleaning maid, who claimed that items had gone missing on several occasions, only to always be found in Daon’s room. This time, after noticing an item was missing while cleaning the former countess’s chambers, she checked Daon’s room and found the brooch hidden under a pillow.

“Often?”

Ixor raised an eyebrow as he handed the reins of his horse to an attendant.

The cleaning maid quickly nodded. Ixor glanced briefly at the emerald brooch, shaped like sage leaves.

It was undoubtedly the same brooch the countess had worn on the day the castle gates opened.

He gathered all the staff in the castle—managers, attendants, and maids—and listened to their accounts.

All their stories matched the cleaning maid’s. Items had frequently gone missing, and Daon was always the culprit.

He wasn’t surprised.

Pointing to the head maid, he asked.

“In handling punishment, we must honor precedent. How did Count Drewbury deal with such matters?”

“Usually, hands were cut off or whippings administered, but the count often dissuaded such measures…”

“‘Often’ implies there were exceptions.”

“Yes. Offenders were locked in the stables for a week without food. Still, slaves rarely learned fear of the law, so they often repeated the same crimes. This time, however, I hope you will be stricter.”

The other servants murmured their agreement, but Daon seemed utterly indifferent to the situation.

Ixor smirked openly.

“You rejected a priceless bracelet, but coveted a brooch worth mere silver coins?”

There was no response.

“Nothing to say for yourself? Want me to decide?”

His cold gaze locked on hers. Her dark eyes reflected no pain, no hurt—only indifference, like the lifeless gaze of a decaying corpse.

“It’s the law to cut off the hand of a thief.”

At his grim pronouncement, the head maid and others visibly rejoiced.

Ixor’s mood soured. With a voice heavy with authority, he demanded, “Defend yourself.”

“…”

“I’ll give you a chance. Or should I cut off your head instead?”

Daon remained unresponsive, likely accustomed to such situations.

Ixor gritted his teeth and gripped the chair’s armrest tightly before growling.

“Do you want to die?”

“…”

“Say one word—just one. Say you didn’t do it.”

Her gaze wavered slightly, as if shocked that he might believe her. It was clear no one had ever trusted a foreign slave’s word before.

Finally, she quietly opened her mouth.

“No.”

Her voice was steady, her tone calm and composed.

“I didn’t steal it. Never. I don’t need jewelry. I have no reason to desire it.”

“Come here. Now.”

When he extended his hand, she hesitated but eventually stepped forward.

Ixor grabbed her slender wrist and roughly pulled her onto his lap.

“Look closely. Before I gouge out your eyes, I will let everyone see the truth.”

He spoke publicly and clearly to the frozen and stunned crowd.

“She’s the woman I cherish, and this is my castle. Everything here belongs to me. So, it doesn’t matter what she wants or takes, even if it’s a relic. Understand?”

His fierce anger caused the servants to bow their heads hurriedly, their faces awash with confusion. They could not have anticipated such a turn of events.

“If this issue is raised again, remember this: the punishment you request for her will fall squarely on you instead.”

The harsh tone of his warning sent shivers through the servants, who trembled in fear, their faces pale as they prostrated themselves.

With narrowed eyes, Ixor scrutinized them before shifting to the primary reason for gathering everyone.

“You’ve all been enjoying yourselves, haven’t you? From the stewards to the lowliest servants, there’s been a racket of bribery and tax embezzlement.”

With a sharp snap of his fingers, Sir Rob unfolded a parchment and began reading the most serious cases of tax evasion in his booming voice.

Once finished, he balled up the parchment and looked at Ixor with a proud expression, as if to say, ‘Didn’t I do well?’

Ixor chuckled softly.

“What was it they said? Ah, yes, the usual punishment is cutting off hands or flogging, isn’t it?”

Realizing the implication, the servants began wailing and offering excuses, but Ixor silenced them with an icy command.

“Investigate each village thoroughly. Conduct a new census, not by village count but by household, and apply taxes based on the number of people per household starting this year.”

The census served another purpose: to calculate the number of men fit for military service.

Regardless of its intent, it was beneficial. Ixor waved his hand dismissively to signal the end of his decree.

“Lastly, those whose names were called earlier-drag them out and behead them.”

“No!”

Daon suddenly interjected.

The sobbing servants looked to her with desperate hope, while Ixor’s eyes darkened with displeasure.

His irritation, however, was fleeting. Seeing an opportunity to boost Daon’s reputation, he pretended to glare.

“I didn’t think you were the type to play the saint.”

“Count Drewbury passed away not long ago. The young master, the madam, and the second master are all gone too. And now, even the people of the castle? The people of Orlanc will harbor fear and unease at such a sudden shift in leadership.”

“What if I must kill those thieves?”

“The people will revolt.”

“They’ll likely welcome it, seeing the pompous castle workers executed.”

“Orlanc is a small countryside province. Most of the castle’s workers have families outside the walls.”

“That shouldn’t matter to you though?”

“If I truly felt that way, I wouldn’t have offered my input during the war.”

That was true.

Finally, he understood something about her.

“You.”

Fixing his gaze on her, he called her out. She flinched slightly, as Ixor grinned wolfishly.

“Do you enjoy politics?”

Her silence and the subtle stiffness in her body answered him.

Now, what should he do? If he executed the thieves, she’d likely continue her indifferent routine. But sparing them? That would draw her into his game.

The choice was obvious.

“It’s simpler to kill them. Firing them is such a hassle. You have to give them time and compensation if you fire someone, right? Fine, let’s do this. The men will all work on road construction, and the women will be employed at inns near the construction sites.”

Relieved to have their lives spared, the workers wept quietly. Watching silently, Zephar rolled up the parchment and tied it with a string, muttering, “How merciful of you.”

“When you meet the king, use today’s example to emphasize how merciful I am. Not that he’d believe it.”

Sir Rob burst into laughter, holding his stomach as if Ixor had just told the funniest joke.

His roaring laughter filled the room, he even stomped his feet. Clicking his tongue, Ixor tilted Daon’s chin upward.

“What job do you enjoy the most?”

After a brief pause, she softly replied, “Cooking.”

Ixor decided her new role on the spot.

“From now on, you’re in charge of the kitchen. Remember, focus solely on kitchen work. I’m granting you the authority of the head chef.”

The promotion was so significant that the crowd buzzed in astonishment. But Ixor only had eyes for Daon.

“I have one question for you. With the thieves gone, the castle lacks workers. What would you do to solve this problem?”

“…Take a census…”

She initially muttered hesitantly but then gripped her apron tightly and met his gaze with firm resolve.

“Since a census will be conducted anyway, it would be efficient to gather detailed data on those 15 and older who can work, as well as children. Assign jobs in the castle and pay weekly wages, with additional compensation for extra work.

“Good. I will do it your way.”

His swift agreement caused Daon to show an expression for the first time-an amused glint in her eyes, which she quickly masked.

She enjoyed politics, uninterested in jewelry or trivial luxuries. Those came naturally with power.

To get her physically, he’d have to match her mentally. Leaning close, he whispered huskily in her ear.

“You told me that you can’t open a door for someone who won’t rule. I’ll rule, so open your door for me.”

 

***

 

The wind coming through the window carried a hint of autumn’s chill.

The noisy commotion in the front yard, caused by the new workers fumbling around, had made the morning anything but quiet.

Rumors spread quickly, like wind. Nearly all the workers at Orlanc Castle had been expelled. This left the atmosphere inside the castle tense and heavy with anxiety.

The new lord, Ixor, was nothing like the late Drewbury.

Orlanc, once governed by a kind and easygoing old man, was now transforming into a vibrant land brimming with youthful energy and vigor.

Ixor strode confidently, his long cape billowing behind him, while Zephar hurried to keep up, clutching a large bundle of parchment rolls.

“The road construction will cause problems down the line. It’s not too late to cancel the whole project,” Zepar pleaded.

“If you’re going to be a bother, go back inside and calculate the taxes,” Ixor replied.

“My lord!”

“Roads are convenient to have. Why are you being so old-fashioned? You’ve seen it abroad, haven’t you?”

“Of course, I have. But this is too radical.”

“Not in this country.”

Ixor glanced briefly through the lattice window, where things appeared chaotic near the barracks.

It seemed a dispute had arisen between Ixor’s soldiers and those from the late Drewbury’s forces. Without pausing, he continued walking.

Descending a narrow spiral staircase reminiscent of a coiled snail shell, Zephar trailed behind, passionately offering advice.

“Certainly, having roads will make travel to and from your estate in Garion easier. However, revealing your governance style too soon will provoke strong wariness from other lords and the king. If that wariness turns into a sense of threat, we’ll be in danger.”

“You talk too much,” Ixor remarked.

“I beg you… it’s not the time to act. Leave it at conquest. Don’t move toward governance.”

Ixor turned and lightly placed a hand on Zephar’s shoulder, patting it gently as if in reassurance.

For a moment, Zephar walked in silence, shuffling his feet as he followed behind.

Sunlight streamed through the latticed windows, casting sporadic patches of yellow across the cold stone floor.

Ixor, strolling leisurely, stopped in front of the assembly hall, where knights stood at attention.

Whistling sharply, he beckoned the stoic knight Renaud with a flick of his finger, pointing his thumb toward the troublesome barracks. Renaud bowed silently and immediately set off.

Turning back, Ixor leaned both elbows on the windowsill, his gaze fixed on Zephar as their conversation continued.

“Whatever I do, it’s just an amusing diversion. Haven’t I always lived like that? Freely, as I pleased. The road construction you’re so worried about is nothing more than a pastime for me. At least, publicly.”

“The king fears you. Everyone does.”

“…”

Important translator Note:

As you have already noticed, it seems like I am working on the volume version not the chapters version. (For those who don’t know a volume is basically numerous chapters mushed together, that’s why I thought the previous chapter was so long 🤣.) This entire novel has 11 volume and 3 sides which means it will be completely translated much sooner than anticipated.

I won’t change anything, but the title at the start of each update.

Please support me through this short journey, dear readers💜💜