Conquer My Heart

Volume 2 part 2

 

“We have deliberately avoided provoking the king until now, even refraining from increasing the number of soldiers beyond a certain point.”

“But instead, we’ve trained those soldiers to be elite, haven’t we?”

His tone was mocking, as if to say, ‘Isn’t that enough?’ Yet Zephar’s eyes were clouded with worry.

It was clear that he believed Daon was influencing him, and indeed, that was the case.

Lowering his voice, Zephar said, “There is new information.”

“Speak.”

“They say Daon tried to help Alvin escape.”

“Isn’t that to be expected?”

“No, it’s not. Not at all.”

Zephar’s firm denial was laced with urgency.

“The night she told him to escape was the same night Count Drewbury died.”

He flinched. A current surged up his arm. This electric tension grew stronger as Zephar continued.

“While everyone was mourning, searching for mourning clothes, and distracted by the distribution of the estate, the fact that this slave woman alone could conceive such a thought is frightening in itself. Furthermore, she also predicted that the enemy was likely going to be Gwin Ixor Malkuth.”

“Oh, really?”

“She prepared for an enemy invasion and arranged for the eldest son to flee even before the master’s body had grown cold. This is no ordinary woman.”

“But Alvin didn’t leave.”

“He must’ve stayed out of concern for what might happen to Daon at the hands of the second wife. Foolish, yes, but understandable if they were in some sort of relationship—lovers, perhaps.”

“…”

“My lord, she is a meticulous and calculating woman who knows exactly how to wield her influence effectively against the enemy…”

“Indeed. That’s the kind of woman she is—cold and astute.”

Ixor cut him off sharply, a glimmer of amusement in his tone.

He perched himself on the high windowsill, letting the cool breeze brush against his face.

From afar, he could see soldiers changing shifts at the watchtower. His sharp gaze observed their swift and efficient handover before he nonchalantly turned his attention away.

Zephar, unusually hesitant, pressed on.

“Most importantly, she is a slave.”

“So?”

“A slave is no different from a dog or a pig. They can’t even become concubines, let alone lawful lovers.”

“So?”

His sharp, biting reply carried an air of menace, warning Zephar to stop. But Zephar didn’t back down easily.

He was typically meticulous about choosing his battles, but with Daon, he was relentless.

“Just six months ago, a low-ranking noble was publicly executed for falling in love with a slave girl. And you, my lord, have many enemies. Far too many.”

“…”

“She will surely flee when the surveillance loosens. Not only that, but she’ll harbor resentment over Alvin’s execution. If such a woman falls into another lord’s hands, it will be troublesome. Kill her now.”

“I’ll consider it as the advice of a loyal subject.”

Ixor answered coldly as he looked down at the inner courtyard.

Daon was walking through the side gate of the castle, carrying a large basket on her arm.

Work, work. She never seemed to stay idle. She must have no talent for resting. Even from this distance, her eyes, nose, and lips were clearly visible.

Zephar, seemingly resigned to the futility of stopping him, delivered his final candid warning.

“You might be able to sway her temporarily, but she’s not a woman who’ll stay like that for long.”

Ixor’s gaze remained fixed on Daon, as sharp as a blade, as he coldly muttered, “Let’s see. I’ll sway her and make her love only me for the rest of her life.”

 

***

 

Daon, untying her headscarf, suddenly turned her head.

Ixor stood leaning casually against the kitchen entrance, silhouetted by the light behind him. His tall frame exuded a sensual masculinity.

“I told you not to leave the castle.”

His icy tone was laced with anger, but her response was calm and unwavering.

“I went to deliver food supplies to the construction site. They were running low.”

“Why do you have to do it yourself?”

He stepped into the kitchen, cutting her off curtly. Instantly, she tensed, a subtle shift he noticed. Fixing his gaze on her, he continued.

“Taking over someone else’s task disrupts their life.”

“…”

“If you’ve gained status, you should get used to delegating tasks—for your sake and theirs.”

“I understand.”

Her lashes lowered demurely, her face calm and expressionless. But it was clear they were both aware of each other.

A subtle tension hung in the air, taut like a string. Ixor lounged on a pile of straw in the corner of the kitchen, gesturing for her to approach.

Silently, Daon stepped closer. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her down effortlessly.

She sat quietly, offering no resistance as he pulled her slender waist against him and buried his face in her neck. Her mature scent was intoxicating, wrapping around him like a drug.

She was like wine—addictive and dizzying, the kind that deepened thirst and blurred reason.

She awakened a fire of desire deep within him, one that consumed him. As he pressed his lips to her neck, her warm, sweat-dampened skin sent electric sparks through him.

His grip tightened, his desire boiling over into an unbearable ache. He wanted to claim her completely, utterly.

Ixor coldly observed her, his tone sharp.

“If you dislike something, you should say so. Speak with your own words. Show anger.”

“…”

“Your silence tells me it’s not entirely unwelcome, is it?”

He muttered, his tone edged with mockery.

Still, Daon remained unresponsive, her gaze fixed on the ceiling. She was distant and silent, a defense mechanism he recognized.

He knew she used her silence as a shield, protecting herself by refusing to engage. It was a way to keep her mind unscathed, regardless of the situation.

This realization frustrated him.

Ixor felt as though no matter what he did, he could never reach her heart. Sighing, he adjusted her clothing and released her, though his gaze remained as piercing as ever.

“Say something, Daon,” he murmured. “Even if it’s to curse me.”

But she said nothing, her expression as calm and unreadable as always.

This woman, when they kept their distance, they could at least have a conversation, but when they were in contact, the words that were already scarce completely disappeared.

Of course, he knew that was her way of defending herself as a slave.

She was probably trying to protect herself by not talking to others. It ensured that her heart would not be hurt in any situation. And that meant that, Ixor, he could not even get close to her heart.

Tap. 

She closed her open collar again, covered her chest, and hugged her shoulders tightly.

She was still as cold as an unbreakable stone.

Ixor stood and looked at her for a long moment before turning away. Even as he walked out of the room, the weight of her silence lingered.

“Do you know how to play chess?”

“…”

“Answer me.”

“A little.”

“Then, let’s have a chess match while we enjoy some refreshments tonight. If you win, I’ll grant you a request, as long as it’s within reason. How about that?”

“What do you mean by ‘within reason’?”

“For example… asking for your freedom.”

“I don’t need freedom.”

He leaned closer, their noses almost touching.

“You don’t need it?”

“A slave is a slave no matter where they go. As long as I’m safe, I’ll stay here.”

She chose guaranteed safety over uncertain freedom. A pragmatic woman.

Ixor smirked, understanding her reasoning.

A slave with her beauty would never be left alone by men. It was better to have one powerful and influential master than risk constant danger.

Ixor stared into her dark, emotionless eyes. They were beautiful, yet devoid of feeling.

Why? Where had she lost her emotions? 

Acting on a sudden impulse, he gently kissed her eyelid—a rare, tender gesture devoid of any ulterior motives.

When he pulled back, Daon looked at him with a subtle, unreadable expression.

“Tell me what you want, my lord.”

“What I want… what I want, hmm. Alright, then. Give me a kiss ticket—permission to kiss you whenever I want. Not that I need one now, but let’s make it official.”

“I’ll play the game.”

“Oh?”

“But, when you’re not using the ticket, do not touch me.”

“You dislike me that much?”

“Yes, I do.”

Her firm refusal made him chuckle faintly.

“Fine. Let’s start the game tonight.”

With Daon as his opponent, Ixor decided not to lose. And the first match ended with his victory.

He placed a fine piece of parchment on the chess table and began writing quickly with a quill pen.

Watching quietly, Daon pointed out calmly.

“You misspelled a word.”

Grumbling, Ixor crossed out the word ‘s*x’ in ‘free s*x ticket’ and replaced it with ‘kiss.’ After preparing about ten tickets, he handed her one.

“Sign it.”

She carefully took the quill and signed with a precise, elegant script. Her handwriting, sharp and refined, was reminiscent of a noble’s education.

Ixor found himself drawn to her boldness—her willingness to reveal her literacy in front of him, despite knowing the risks for a slave.

‘She knows how to make things interesting,’ he mused, admiring her daring and confident demeanor.

Shaking the ticket to dry the ink, he smirked.

“Alright. Time to use this ticket.”

He drew her closer with a subtle movement then approached carefully, his voice low and calm as he whispered.

“Open your lips.”

She remained unyielding, her dark eyes filled with a challenging light. Despite his words, she stood firm, maintaining her composure.

When she finally spoke, it was with a neutral expression.

“Once.”

“Hmm?”

“From when our lips meet until they part—that’s once.”

“Alright.”

He responded, moving decisively.

Though his actions were firm, she maintained her resistance, her gaze avoiding his. The tension between them remained palpable, but she held her ground.

Her composed demeanor remained steady even as she adjusted her clothing and quietly left the room. Her steps were calm, but her departure left a sense of unease behind.

He exhaled deeply, pouring himself a drink and reflecting on her guarded nature. Despite their interactions, her emotions stayed hidden behind an impenetrable wall.

The thought crossed his mind that, even in moments of intimacy, she seemed unfamiliar with genuine connection or deep fulfillment.

He shook his head, a wry smile tugging at his lips as he loosened the collar of his shirt to cool his heated body.

“This is a problem,” he muttered to himself.

The unspoken tension between them seemed to weigh on him, yet he couldn’t help but feel drawn to her in a way he hadn’t anticipated.

‘I should lose the game tomorrow,’ he mused.

Perhaps then she would lower her guard. But the thought of losing to her, even intentionally, now felt unbearable.

 

***

 

Later, the Next Evening

“What do you mean she disappeared?”

After his bath, Ixor was met by a nervous maid who stammered as she explained.

Since the brooch theft incident, the servants both feared and respected him greatly.

“I was preparing the ingredients for the potato soup for tomorrow, as instructed. I went to ask if the amount was sufficient, but… she wasn’t in her quarters.”

“Gone?”

“Yes, my lord. I waited, but there was no sign of her returning…”

It was nearly 10 p.m., a time when few would still be awake. Could she have run away because of the kiss? No, she wasn’t foolish enough to act so impulsively. But then, why?

Narrowing his eyes in thought, Ixor heard the maid cautiously add.

“She does disappear late at night from time to time.”

“Occasionally?”

“Yes, about once every three or four nights. The servants whisper that she has a secret lover… or that she might be spying for another lord.”

“A spy? For whom?”

“I don’t know… but whenever she sneaks back in, her face is flushed, her hair disheveled, and her clothes damp as if she had been rolling around in the grass.”

“Leave.”

At his curt order, the maid quickly scurried away, stealing anxious glances behind her.

A secret lover? It wasn’t impossible—she was, after all, a young woman in her prime.

Yet, the mere thought of her being with another man ignited an unsettling mixture of jealousy and possessiveness within him.

 

***

 

The second chess match ended with Daon’s victory. When asked what she wanted, she promptly answered, as though she had been prepared.

“Create a system for managing waste.”

“Waste?”

Ixor raised an eyebrow, surprised. He hadn’t expected jewels or dresses, but this was still unusual.

Waste? Of all the things she could wish for, why this?

Daon calmly continued.

“In densely populated cities, women give birth atop piles of garbage, children eat among the trash, and men sleep on it.”

“Because they’re commoners.”

“And those commoners represent their lord’s face.”

“Well, that’s an interesting perspective.”

Ixor’s gaze turned sharp, like a predator sizing up its prey, though his expression remained relaxed, even amused.

Her proposal intrigued him. It wasn’t the kind of thought one would expect from a slave. This was the perspective of an educated and bold individual, likely someone foreign.

A chilling suspicion crept over him. Was there someone influencing her? A man, perhaps, as the servant had suggested? 

The maid’s comment about her disheveled state echoed in his mind.

“I see. And you want me to draft a law just for that?”

“Every summer, diseases spread due to the garbage. It would help if people had a system for managing waste properly,” she retorted swiftly.

“Most people don’t think it’s an issue,” he argued.

“I do.”

“It’s excessive to create a law for that. Everyone will think it’s unnecessary.”

“At the very least, prevent people from dumping dead animals in public waterways and from piling rotting waste inside their homes.”

“Alright, keep convincing me.”

She paused briefly before continuing, her tone composed and articulate.

“In the summer, diseases kill many, and in the winter, just as many die from starvation. If these deaths can be prevented, they should be. A healthier, more populous community would naturally make the land more prosperous.”

“Commoners don’t even have a concept of waste. They wouldn’t know what to discard and what to keep.”

“If they think it’s worth reusing, it’s not waste. That’s enough of a guideline.”

Their eyes met, tension crackling between them.

It was clear that, regardless of who had influenced her in the past, her current arguments were her own, borne of her own thoughts and reasoning.

As Ixor deliberately displayed his reluctance, Daon coldly provoked him.

“Is it beyond your ability?”

A low chuckle escaped him. She had turned his earlier words—about granting her any reasonable request—against him.

Clever, pragmatic, and willing to fight when necessary.

Ixor tilted his head, studying her intently.

“And what exactly do you want done about this ‘waste’?”

 

***

 

Sir Rob, as strong as a bear, placed his palm on the castle wall and leaned forward to peer down below.

The area surrounding Orlank Castle buzzed with the clatter of construction noise, and far off in the distance, dust clouds rose as workers pounded the roads into shape. The construction of the farming tools rental warehouse was almost complete, and the goods were set to arrive by tomorrow.

Rob shook his head disapprovingly.

“This is madness. What’s the reason behind such insane behavior?”

“They say it’s about implementing a system to gather trash in one place. The lord insists that we must lead by example before ordering the people to follow suit.”

Zephar mumbled as he gazed at the same scene.

Rob, who had been ready to voice his complaints, seemed surprised by Zephar’s lack of enthusiasm and awkwardly changed the subject.

“I don’t understand much about these things… Ah, well! Our lord’s plans always go beyond imagination.”

Here and there in the fields, small triangular green flags were planted, their refreshing color brightening the view.

The population census had been completed, and since yesterday, boundaries were being assigned to the farmers. Households with ample labor received generous plots, while smaller families were given proportionate lands.

Until now, all the land and everything on it had belonged to the lord. All the harvest was handed over as taxes, and the farmers only received rations in return.

But Ixor had sliced off portions of the land and distributed them to the farmers. Furthermore, he allowed them to keep most of their harvest, requiring only a portion as tax.

Allowing commoners to own land as private property…

While granting farmers attachment to their land made sense in a time of frequent wars and roaming bandits, it was an undeniably bold reform.

“I always believed our lord was preparing for a conquest.”

Rob said, tapping the castle wall with his bear-like fists.

“If not now, then soon. I thought there must be some reason he chose to conquer this speck of a place like Orlank.”

He continued with a snort.

“The old king is irritable, the nobles are at each other’s throats, and every year they voluntarily send tributes out of fear of foreign invasions. Inside or out, the only thing everyone agrees on is fearing our lord.”

Zephar said nothing, and Rob added in a lower voice.

“Is this chaos because of that woman?”

“That woman?”

“You know who I mean.”

“Ah.”

“She’s a lioness. Delicate as an egret on the outside, but a lioness at heart. Did you know? It’s the lioness that does the hunting.”

Zephar turned his gaze from the fields to look seriously at Rob.

“What are people saying?”

“Not much yet. Renaud is the only one raising eyebrows.”

Renaud was the knight who had been captured in the Serbellis Forest when Daon fled.

He was a loyal and stoic knight who could be trusted with any task. But when a woman steps into a circle of men, things change.

Sensing something off, Zephar silently watched Rob, who shrugged.

“When she walks by, he can’t take his eyes off her. Though Renaud isn’t the only one—it’s the same with the others. She’s got a peculiar charm.”

“Do you think it’s going to be fine?”

“He’s a sensible guy. He’ll control himself.”

“…Should I kill her?”

Rob’s voice dropped, unusually subdued.

“If that woman shows signs of ruining our lord, just say the word. Even if it costs me my head, I don’t mind. Should I take care of her?”

Zephar furrowed his brows, unable to find an immediate answer, and Rob burst into laughter.

“To think someone could make the great Zephar hesitate for over ten seconds. She’s truly something.”

“She is,” Zephar agreed bitterly, glancing again at the construction.

 

***

 

Later that night, at 9:30 PM, Zephar found himself with Ixor, crouching in the shadow of the castle walls like village children sneaking into an orchard.

They were waiting for Daon.

Before long, she appeared, moving without even a lamp to guide her. The sound of a small side door creaking open was unnervingly loud in the pitch-black night.

She emerged cautiously but with steady, silent steps, as though accustomed to walking under the cover of darkness.

The moment Ixor saw her, his expression shifted.

Though his face remained relaxed, his sharp gaze radiated the predatory intensity of a hunter spotting prey.

Zephar, who had secretly hoped she wouldn’t appear, swallowed dryly and followed close behind Ixor as they tailed her.

Daon strode confidently along a narrow dirt path and slipped into a nearby forest.

Snap.

A dry branch cracked underfoot.

Even though the sound was faint, Daon stopped abruptly and whipped around.

Hidden in the underbrush, Ixor met her gaze with sharp, glowing eyes.

She scanned her surroundings briefly, tilted her head in curiosity, and continued walking.

Zephar exhaled a small sigh of relief, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.

Ixor, still crouched, whispered mockingly.

“You should exercise more instead of being buried in paperwork. Getting caught by a woman doesn’t suit a military advisor.”

Zephar briefly considered retorting that military advisors don’t sneakily tail women but held his tongue.

There was no point arguing with Ixor.

She stopped walking at a small stream deep within the forest.

“What a peculiar woman.”

Ixor muttered with a soft chuckle as he watched Daon undress.

Bathing was uncommon for peasants and nobles alike, but Ixor, having lived in a foreign land where bathing culture was more developed, enjoyed it and was considered unusual for it.

Ixor stared in a daze until his cold voice broke the silence.

“Eyes.”

Zephar quickly turned his head to avoid looking at her. At least she wasn’t meeting another man, so there was no need to worry about a midnight brawl.

Leaning casually against a rock, Ixor fully committed to watching.

Daon hummed a quiet tune, likely a foreign folk song, perhaps from her homeland. Was she in a good mood? He realized he’d never seen her look relaxed or smiling.

Other than the sound of splashing water, it was silent.

Ixor didn’t move, but Zephar could sense the change in him. His emotions were shifting—deep, poignant, a mix of joy and pain.

It was a kind of feeling no other woman had ever evoked in Ixor.

The night sky was thick with stars. With the slightly tilted Capricorn constellation overhead, colder weather seemed to be on its way.

Ixor murmured, almost to himself,

“If she keeps bathing in cold water, she’ll catch a cold.”

His tone carried a hint of unusual affection, making Zephar’s chest tighten uneasily.

Daon was a woman like a poisonous flower—unbelievably beautiful and alluring, yet capable of ruining men.

The words of Knight Rob echoed in his mind: ‘Do you think she’ll ruin our lord? If so, just say the word. Should I kill her?’

Zephar clenched his jaw, his expression darkening.

 

***

 

The following evening, after their usual chess game, Ixor handed over the kiss tickets and asked Daon.

“Is the waste disposal going as you intended?”

“Yes.”

She replied calmly, her eyes glinting subtly. She seemed to find joy in seeing her proposed policies being implemented and eagerly participated in their execution.

It was probably fascinating for her. The thrill of turning imagination into reality was intense. But, as with all policies, implementing one meant making countless adjustments to others.

Watching her efforts, Ixor mused that she clearly had something else she wanted to try. She always tried hard to win at chess, likely for that reason.

“Since I keep winning every game, it’s getting dull. It’s time for some fun.”

Ixor said, fanning himself with three kiss tickets.

“I’ll return these three to you.”

“What’s your condition?”

“I always bathe at the same time—10 p.m. The water starts heating at 9:30. During that half-hour, I want you in the tub.”

“Why should I do that?”

“I told you, for fun .”

He gave her a wicked smile.

“I’d be delighted if you joined me, but that’s not possible, is it?”

“…”

“Scrub yourself thoroughly. Let your scent dissolve into the water. I want to know what flavor your body leaves behind.”

Daon’s eyes narrowed slightly, suspicious of a trap. Ixor merely grinned with the relaxed expression of a libertine lord.

With a playful flick of his fingers, he tapped the table with the kiss tickets before pretending to toss them back into the dish.

“I’ll do it.”

She said quickly, realizing she needed them.

Ixor handed her the tickets with deliberate slowness.

“Starting tonight.”

From that night, Daon began bathing in his tub with warm water, as instructed. Ixor delayed his arrival to allow her time to relax.

Over time, she grew more at ease with the routine.

As a slave, she knew Ixor was the only person capable of turning her dreams into reality. Ixor believed they had established a measure of trust.

So, when he received the report that Daon was missing, he assumed it was another misunderstanding, like before.

But when the night deepened and she still hadn’t returned, Ixor’s confidence began to waver.