Chapter 13

 

* * *

The man’s words kept flashing through her mind.

His mocking tone, his piercing gaze.

Scattered, unfocused scenes floated in her head, and over them lingered the heat of his breath as he bore down on her.

The heat—so intense—churned her insides uncontrollably.

He had gripped every nerve in her body with ruthless precision, like he was wringing out every last drop of her.

With each twist of her body, breath spilled from her lips over and over.

“Haa…”

It wasn’t something she could control, no matter how hard she tried.

And layered over it all, the moans she occasionally let slip only deepened her shame.

“Hnng…”

The wet, lewd sounds echoed through the room as he thrust into her without mercy.

When the bed rocked endlessly beneath them, her mind reeled at the breaking point.

Every fragment of it scrambled messily in her head.

And the more she recalled, the more painfully embarrassing each scene became.

Of course, she knew.

She knew all of it had simply been part of the purification process.

They said only novices let emotions sway them during purification.

The man she had faced had shown no signs of wavering from start to finish.

That made her feel even smaller.

‘What was he thinking while watching me gasp beneath him like that…?’

The relentless thoughts blurred into fog as her body heated, the aftermath of purification sweeping in as it always did—suddenly, without warning.

Her head spun, her body flushed, and her strength quickly drained.

It was inevitable.

She’d forgotten for a moment, lost in tension, but her body was still covered in the scars left by the whip.

Now, with her strength gone, pain crept up her limbs like insects crawling beneath her skin.

Maybe that was a mercy in itself—at least she couldn’t dwell on any more thoughts.

And perhaps because of that, sleep took her quickly, despite the unfamiliar bed.

As always, dreams followed.

Just like every time, the child with short, choppy black hair came running toward her.

From appearance alone, he looked to be around eight years old.

Judging by their height difference, she guessed there was a three or four year age gap—but at that age, even a single year could feel huge.

Today, too, she was playing the role of big sister.

“Careful! You’ll fall!”

But the child paid no mind to her warning and, of course, went tumbling to the ground.

The child, who should’ve been crying, stood up bravely and looked at me with a bright smile.

His words came out clear and crisp between his small teeth, adorably pronounced like any little kid.

“Sis!”

Despite being covered in dirt, his innocent face made it impossible to scold him. Everything about him seemed forgivable.

His tiny hand reached out and grabbed the hem of my dress to help himself up.

“Why aren’t you at home? What are you doing here?”

“This.”

“You came just to give me this?”

He nodded enthusiastically, and what he held out was a four-leaf clover.

“Luck.”

“Mhm. The one you told me about.”

His eyes curved playfully into little crescents.

All while completely unaware of the future about to crash down on us.

The scene shifted. Flames roared over the mansion.

Ash and smoke filled the child’s face as he ran from the fire.

Our eyes met—but he looked away, pretending not to see me, silently letting himself be led away somewhere.

His eyes brimmed with tears, and the way he swallowed them down stayed burned into my memory.

‘Maybe… maybe that’s how you managed to survive, no matter where you ended up.’

‘And maybe the reason I’m still alive here too… is because I held that four-leaf clover.’

‘Was that clover a sign of luck… or misfortune?’

It was a long time before I finally woke from the deep sleep.

Tears had welled up at the corners of my eyes—just like they always did after dreams like this.

But this time, I couldn’t call it a nightmare.

My little brother hadn’t cried out. Today, he even showed me a happy moment.

It almost felt like he was telling me he was doing well.

Those red eyes that shimmered under black hair… it still felt like they were watching over me.

‘I’ll find you. I swear I will.’

People with black hair and red eyes were rare. It shouldn’t take long to find him—should it?

‘I have to believe that.’

As I took a deep breath, the tightness around my throat began to ease.

When I sat up, a damp cloth fell from my forehead with a soft plop.

A maid with a calm expression stepped forward, pointed at the cloth, and said the butler had given orders—then offered a polite, cheerful bow.

‘Ah…’

I stared blankly at the spot she’d left behind once she returned to her duties.

And in my mind, Sir Jayden’s stern, composed expression briefly flickered through like a passing shadow.

And over that memory, the Grand Duke’s image clearly surfaced in her mind.

‘Was it him who gave the order?’

The man who had offhandedly tossed her a cloak, saying the North was a cold place—his figure flickered briefly through her thoughts.

But… that couldn’t be. Why would the Grand Duke concern himself with something like this?

It must’ve been the butler’s thoughtfulness, just like the maid had said.

Or perhaps… it was a warning to do her job properly from now on.

When she recalled that cold voice telling her he’d cast her out the moment she stopped being useful, it didn’t seem too far-fetched.

She opened the window, and the brisk, almost frigid dawn air slapped against her face, waking her fully.

Beyond it, atop a pointed spire, the sun had already begun to rise.

The sky had faded from red to soft blue, painting the rooftops and the delicate gargoyle carvings beneath in pale light.

And just under that, by the opposite window, the silhouette of a man still flickered faintly.

Every time she opened her eyes and saw that lit room, she was struck with a mix of curiosity and disbelief.

‘Does that man even sleep?’

From his immaculate posture to his perfectly organized room, he seemed like someone who was meticulous to the core.

He didn’t treat people with delicacy, that was clear—but when it came to his own work, it seemed he was fastidiously precise.

After all, a person’s nature tends to show in their habits, even in how they organize their surroundings.

‘He’s probably weighing me on some invisible scale too… judging me by every little measure.’

Just thinking about it made her feel breathless.

He had said clearly—he would only keep her around as long as she was useful. So now, she’d have to prove her worth.

A heavy, unfamiliar tension settled deep in her chest.

There was still quite a distance between her room and his, and yet… it felt like he was still watching her.

Like someone afflicted with some kind of strange, consuming sickness.

* * *

Grand Duke Kallain paused mid-way through reviewing another set of territorial documents.

It was as if time had stopped—he didn’t move a muscle for a long while.

Then, slowly, he picked up a cigar and exhaled a long stream of smoke.

Fff— A deep, steady breath out, as if trying to burn away the thoughts that had come to a halt.

Usually, after setting a fire like this inside himself, everything would be swept away with the smoke…

But that woman—she didn’t fade so easily from his mind.

If anything, it felt like the smoke re-entered his head, curling around and taking hold of his thoughts again.

Leaning back lazily in his chair, his eyes drifted toward her.

More precisely—toward her silhouette, far beyond the window.

She walked with such grace that it was almost laughable to think of comparing a shadow to a swan.

But that’s how it felt.

Her hair swayed slightly—she must’ve tied it up.

And when he recalled the way she’d tucked her hair behind her ear… that pale, slender neckline came to mind, and again, his thoughts grew restless.

‘Am I really going insane?’

The fact that he was thinking this way just from seeing a shadow was absurd.

He’d always considered himself a rational man, but clearly, pride had made him careless.

‘If she knew I was thinking like this from here… how ridiculous would she find it?’

Her disinterested expression in the carriage, the way she turned her face away without a word or question.
The dry, emotionless way she’d looked at him—so different from all the other dancers.

And yet, recalling the way she’d acted yesterday, like she’d just hooked another fool—it would only make her laugh harder.

Still… ‘Even that laugh, coming from her, would probably look beautiful.’

It was ridiculous to be thinking this way, but he meant it.

He ran a hand through his hair and blew out another puff of smoke, only for a new memory to overlay itself.

The woman who had confidently opened his door, claiming she wanted him to sponsor her friend.
She wasn’t chasing the title of Grand Duchess, nor did she want fame or status.

The more he thought about her, the less sense she made.

She didn’t seem desperate, and yet… she was.

The way she rose early to match the manor’s schedule, the wavering silhouette at her window,
That wild, foolish confidence when she had stood in front of him and declared she’d show him a dance—

Those things proved it.

‘Why did she cling to me with such desperate force?’

The more dangerous she seemed, the more intriguing she became.

By the time the cigar gave its final fizzle and died out, the bell rang—and Jayden stepped inside.

As always, the day began with one cigar, a review of the previous day’s documents, and then Jayden’s report.

Recalling how unlike himself Kallain had been acting lately, Jayden continued his report.

“She is indeed registered under Frozen Agriche, but it hasn’t been long since she joined.”

“Then where was she before that?”

“She lived in an orphanage for two years starting at age thirteen. After that, she was adopted by the Langston Viscount couple.”

Langston…?

“There were nobles by that name?”

“Yes. I’m told they were on familiar terms with His Imperial Majesty—they occasionally had private audiences.”

Entangled with the Emperor…

When his brother—who loathed anything vulgar—kept low-ranking nobles close, there was always something ominous behind it.

As usual, Jayden laid out the estate reports, the latest financial summaries, and the ceremonial schedules aligned with the harvest season—all neatly arranged on the table.

Kallain glanced over the documents with a languid expression, listening to the report.

But his hand froze when he found a file bearing the name “Sylvia.”