69. Cheating is a pit of immorality
A sickening shiver ran down her spine.
Roselia, who never imagined such a thing would happen to her while disguised as a man, began struggling violently in panic and fear.
The more she resisted, the harder Denver pressed down on her, bringing his nose to her neck and panting like a dog.
“You perverted bastard!” she shouted, raising her hand as if to slap him. But Denver sneered, grabbing both her wrists in one of his hands and pinning them above her head.
“Stop pretending you don’t like it.”
He smirked as he freed one hand to unbuckle his pants. Roselia desperately wanted to kick him away, but he was pressed too close for her to move her legs.
As Denver unclasped his belt and began fumbling with hers, Roselia bit her lip so hard that a trace of blood appeared at the corner of her mouth. Shame and fury burned inside her.
Then, suddenly—
BANG!
The warehouse door flew open with a thunderous crash, the impact so violent it seemed the hinges might break.
The flood of light from outside blinded Roselia momentarily. Blinking, she saw Klaus standing in the doorway, his face shadowed by an expression of pure, icy rage.
His initial shock twisted into something darker—an uncontainable fury and murderous intent.
Klaus strode forward and grabbed Denver by the scruff of his neck, yanking him off Roselia. With a single powerful punch, Denver flew across the room like a ragdoll and slammed into a pile of junk in the corner.
CRASH!
The loud clattering of scattered debris filled the warehouse as Denver crumpled to the ground. Dazed, he blinked up at Klaus, his face a mixture of fear and confusion as he realized what had just happened.
Klaus, calm but seething with menace, walked over to him and planted his foot firmly on Denver’s wrist.
“Argh…!” Denver let out a pained groan, but Klaus didn’t waver, pressing down harder. His voice dropped to a low, chilling growl.
“Do I need to show you what happens to people who overstep their bounds?”
His calm yet deadly tone, coupled with the murderous glint in his eyes, froze Denver in place. He began trembling, overwhelmed by fear.
“I-I was wrong…!” Denver stammered, his voice quivering.
“I’m tempted to cut out that disgraceful tongue of yours,” Klaus said flatly, his expression devoid of emotion. The words sent a shiver down Denver’s spine.
It felt like being trapped under the claws of a panther, unable to move, barely able to breathe.
As Denver remained frozen in terror, a familiar voice echoed from outside the warehouse, drawn by the commotion.
“What’s going on here… Your Grace!”
Jeffrey, the head butler, arrived at the scene. His eyes widened in shock as he took in the chaotic mess and the duke’s ominous demeanor.
Klaus glanced at Jeffrey but didn’t lift his foot from Denver’s wrist. His voice was icy as he spoke.
“Have the servants restrain this man.”
Jeffrey hesitated, trying to make sense of the situation. Klaus’s frown deepened, and he added with unyielding authority, “He dared to covet what belongs to me.”
At those words, Klaus’s brows furrowed slightly, the memory of the recent events clearly aggravating him further.
Denver, writhing beneath Klaus’s foot, protested weakly, “I… I never coveted anything of yours, Your Grace!”
Klaus’s eyes darkened dangerously. Without a word, he pressed down harder, and a sickening crack echoed through the warehouse.
CRUNCH!
“AAAAH!” Denver howled in agony, clutching at Klaus’s foot as his broken wrist twisted at an unnatural angle.
Klaus’s gaze remained cold as he stared down at him. “That filthy mouth of yours dared to speak to my possession, and these filthy hands dared to touch it.”
It was only then that Denver understood: Klaus was referring to Antonio—no, Roselia. His face turned deathly pale as he stared up at Klaus in terror.
“Th-that’s…”
Sensing the situation spiraling further, Jeffrey quickly interjected. “Restrain him, now! My apologies for this disturbance, Your Grace.”
At Jeffrey’s command, the other servants hurriedly moved to subdue Denver. Klaus finally lifted his foot from Denver’s wrist and stepped back. Denver’s wrist was mangled and twisted, but Klaus showed no hint of pity in his gaze.
“Confiscate all property belonging to this man. Throw him out of the estate with nothing but his broken wrist. If anyone tries to treat him, throw them out as well.”
Klaus’s cruel, decisive order left Jeffrey speechless for a moment before he lowered his head in acknowledgment. “As you command, Your Grace.”
Jeffrey had never seen Klaus this furious, not since the deaths of his parents. Whatever had happened, calming Klaus’s anger was paramount, so he moved quickly to organize the servants and restore order.
With the chaos unfolding behind him, Klaus approached Roselia, who stood frozen, her face pale and her body trembling slightly.
Klaus removed his suit jacket and gently draped it over her shoulders. The soft gesture seemed to pull Roselia back to reality, and her teary eyes slowly focused on him.
Without a word, Klaus took her wrist and led her out of the warehouse. Roselia, still too shaken to speak, followed him in silence.
Thanks to the jacket covering her head, she couldn’t see the expressions of the onlooking servants, but she could imagine their stares.
Biting her lip, she fought back the tears threatening to spill. The coppery taste of blood lingered in her mouth from where she had bitten down too hard during Denver’s assault.
* * *
When Klaus dragged Roselia into his study, she finally parted her heavy lips to speak.
“Thank you for helping me.”
Shame burned through her as she recalled the scene Klaus had walked in on. She couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze.
Klaus ran a frustrated hand through his hair, his expression tense.
“When did it start?”
“Pardon?” Roselia looked at him in confusion, unsure of what he was asking.
“When did Denver start looking at you like that?” Klaus asked, his voice sharp.
“That’s…” Roselia faltered, unable to answer.
She hadn’t anticipated Denver acting like that. She’d thought he simply disliked her, but for him to suddenly attack her in such a way…
“Has he done anything like this to you before?” Klaus demanded.
“No, nothing like this before…”
The memory of Denver touching her flashed through her mind, and Klaus’s expression twisted with fury.
“You should have noticed he had such vile intentions and told me.”
Roselia gaped at him, stunned. She was the one who had been frightened and humiliated, yet Klaus seemed angrier than she was.
“How was I supposed to know?” she snapped, her voice sharp with frustration and hurt.
Klaus blinked, as if realizing he’d overstepped. His tone softened slightly, though it was still firm.
“From now on, you’re not to do any work around the estate.”
“What?”
“There are plenty of servants here. There’s no need for you to mingle with them or get involved in their work.”
The commanding tone of his words made Roselia exhale sharply, incredulous.
“Why don’t you just tell me to stay in my room while you’re at it?” she retorted sarcastically.
Klaus’s brows furrowed at her biting words. “Antonio,” he said in a reprimanding tone, as if scolding a child.
That was the last straw for Roselia. She couldn’t hold back her frustration any longer and raised her voice.
“I didn’t do anything wrong, so why does it feel like I’m the one being punished?”
Klaus let out a deep sigh and hesitated for a moment. Slowly, he raised his hand toward her face, as if to comfort her.
“I just wanted—”
The memory of Denver’s rough hands overwhelmed Roselia, and she flinched instinctively, stepping back.
Their eyes met—hers wide with alarm, his filled with guilt and confusion.
Unable to bear the intensity of his gaze, Roselia averted her eyes and retreated further.
“I’ll be going now,” she said stiffly.
Before Klaus could respond, she turned abruptly and left the room, her back straight and unyielding.
Klaus stood frozen in place for a long time, staring at the door she had closed behind her.
* * *
Claucet wore an expression just as fearsome as Klaus’s, her voice a low growl as she muttered, “Unbelievable. I always had a bad feeling about Denver, but to think he’d turn out to be such trash.”
In Claucet’s room, Roselia sat holding a warm cup of tea prepared by Melda, her trembling hands wrapped tightly around the teacup as if trying to steady herself.
“Are you okay?” Claucet asked softly, concern evident in her tone.
Roselia forced a small smile. “Yes…”
Claucet sighed deeply and spoke bluntly. “Klaus apparently caused a huge commotion earlier, calling the servants together and raising hell.”
“…”
“Why don’t you just tell him you’re a woman? Klaus seems to care about you a lot these days. Is there really any reason to keep it a secret?”
At Claucet’s cautious suggestion, Roselia’s expression hardened as she shook her head firmly. “No, I can’t.”
“Why not? Are you worried Klaus will be angry? Sure, he might be upset for a while, but he’ll come around. It’s clear how much he cares about you.”
“Even so, no. Please, my lady, promise me you’ll keep it a secret for now.”
“…Alright.”
Even now, with things so tangled between her and Klaus, Roselia felt like she wouldn’t be able to hold herself back if she revealed her true identity.
Her mind told her she shouldn’t rely on him, but back in the warehouse, she had desperately hoped he would come.
If things continued like this, she feared she might give everything to him.
And if that happened… their story would end in death, just like in the original.
The thought brought a sharp pain to her chest.
The breath was knocked out of her as a wave of agony hit, and Roselia fainted on the spot.
* * *
Klaus sat at his desk in the study, his hands clasped in front of his mouth as he wrestled with his thoughts.
He had gone to Antonio’s room upon hearing that he had collapsed, but Claucet had met him with a stern dismissal, barring him from even a glimpse of Antonio.
Claucet had said Antonio wanted to be alone, and while Klaus had respected that wish and refrained from forcing his way in, his thoughts continuously strayed back to that room.
Finally unable to resist any longer, Klaus stood abruptly and made his way toward Antonio’s room with determined strides.
Standing before the door, Klaus hesitated again. After a long pause, he raised his hand and knocked softly.
“Antonio, are you awake?” he called out, his voice low.
But there was no response from within.
“Antonio?” he asked again, his tone tinged with concern.
The silence dragged on, and Klaus’s restless heart urged him to act. Tentatively, he placed his hand on the doorknob. With a slight turn, the handle gave way easily.
Normally, the door would be locked at night, but it seemed Claucet had left it unlocked while coming and going to care for Antonio.
After another moment of hesitation, Klaus pushed the door open and stepped inside, resolving only to check on Antonio and then leave.
The room was filled with Antonio’s scent, faint but distinct, enveloping Klaus the moment he entered.
Frowning slightly, he quietly approached the bed. As expected, Antonio lay sound asleep, his breathing even and peaceful.
Klaus found himself staring, almost entranced, as he drew closer. Slowly, his hand reached out, as if compelled.
He brushed aside the strands of hair clinging to Antonio’s forehead and let his fingers graze the curve of his cheek. The warmth and softness of the touch startled Klaus, but what happened next froze him entirely.
Antonio unconsciously leaned into his hand, nuzzling his cheek against Klaus’s palm in a gesture so natural and trusting it sent a jolt through Klaus’s chest.
In that moment, Klaus felt as though his heart had plummeted into an abyss, leaving him breathless and unsteady.
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