Chapter 71
71
Throw it away.
Matthias stepped back leisurely, just as he had the night before, and Leila crossed the threshold while trembling. The only difference was that Leila was leading the way this time. She walked down the corridor with firm steps, heading not toward the drawing room but toward the bedroom.
Rather than asking why, Matthias simply followed behind her obediently. He felt a spark of anticipation about what unexpected thing this woman, who always delighted him with a touch of audacity, might do today. And Leila duly fulfilled that expectation.
She gripped the doorknob and hesitated for a moment, then flung open the bedroom door with her own hand. Matthias, who had been following a few steps behind, furrowed his brow.
Changing his mind about calling her name, Matthias entered the bedroom in silence. Now he was starting to get truly curious. Just how far would the thrill of Leila Llewellyn’s audacity take him?
As if to say, Go ahead, give it your all, Matthias leaned back against the closed door with his arms loosely crossed. Leila paused in the middle of the bedroom to catch her breath, then moved toward the bed.
First, she removed her glasses and placed them on the nightstand, then took off her scarf, coat, and gloves.
I’ve done my part, so now it’s time for you to do yours.
That single sentence had been the only thing in the letter the duke had sent today. Role. The humiliation that word implied had left Leila frozen in place for a long while.
If you’re going to be a mistress, at least act like one, Leila.
As the duke’s words resurfaced—spoken with that cruel smile, like a cat toying with a cornered mouse—Leila could no longer support herself on her legs and collapsed to the floor.
She had thought she’d lost consciousness halfway through, but the memories afterward came back with chilling vividness. How painful and humiliating it had been. And how utterly despairing that her body hadn’t obeyed her will.
Even without knowing much about such things, Leila could tell that what the duke had done to her was no act of love. Calling it beastly didn’t quite fit either. It wasn’t driven solely by primal desire.
It’s fun when you cry, and enjoyable when you beg.
Sitting on the floor for a long time, facing the winter wind pouring in through the open window, Leila suddenly recalled the words the duke had uttered on a beautiful summer night the previous year.
So cry for me, Leila. Beg if you want.
Even as he issued that cold command, the duke had been smiling.
Because it was fun. Enjoyable. Yes, that must be it. Just like enjoying a hunt… that’s how he treated me…
Finding that answer brought a hollow laugh that twisted into a sob. To think she’d sometimes gazed deeply into that man’s eyes, wondering if there might be something more—it made her despise herself unbearably.
“Leila!”
At the sound of Uncle Bill calling her name upon his return, Leila finally pulled herself to her feet. She closed the window, drew the curtains, and rubbed her red-rimmed eyes hard with her sleeve before turning around. And she made a resolve.
I won’t beg or cry in front of you ever again. I won’t give you any amusement or pleasure. I’ll make you discard me as soon as possible.
Reaffirming that vow, Leila removed her blouse, skirt, and shoes one by one. It took far greater courage to strip off her undergarments with her own hands, but she managed it in the end. After all that the duke had done to her body, it was ridiculous to feel reluctant to bare herself now. Above all, Leila didn’t want to be violated so miserably again like on their first night. Better to choose it herself.
“Ha…”
Matthias let out an incredulous sigh as he gazed at the half-naked Leila.
Leila slowly lowered the arm that had been covering her exposed breasts and removed the remaining undergarments one by one. When she finally took off her stockings, her completely nude body was laid bare before his eyes.
Has she lost her mind or something?
The thought even crossed his mind quite seriously. Otherwise, this seemed utterly impossible.
Gathering her discarded clothes and placing them on the chair beside the bed, Leila removed the pins that had held up her hair. The strands cascaded down her smooth nape and shoulders, soon becoming a wave of golden light that draped over her white back.
Unlike his calm, steady gaze, Matthias’s breathing was subtly disrupted. As he swept back the hair from his forehead with the hand that had been clenched tightly at his side, Leila sat demurely on the edge of the bed. The bold resolve that had carried her through this mad act had vanished; now her entire body trembled faintly.
Matthias approached Leila slowly. Unable to find anywhere to direct her gaze, she flustered and finally looked down at her own toes.
“What are you doing right now?”
He asked with a mocking tone, cupping her chin. With just a slight pressure, he drew her eyes up to meet his.
“……My role.”
Her tone was surprisingly defiant, but her trembling voice robbed it of any menace.
“And what’s that role of yours?”
As the situation grew increasingly amusing, Matthias’s eyes narrowed. Despite her frightened, dazed expression, Leila shot back boldly.
“You already know.”
She hunched her shoulders slightly but didn’t avoid his downward gaze.
“You’re the one who decided it.”
His gaze traveled from her rapidly rising and falling chest—due to her quickened breath—to her hands neatly folded over her knees.
Stripped bare and playing the lady.
Even as he inwardly scoffed at the absurdity, his eyes continued to roam over Leila. Meeting her large eyes again brought a dry, hollow laugh from his lips.
Does buying a woman for money ever feel this filthy?
Once the laughter faded, his eyes gleamed with a sharp, predatory light.
Matthias slowly opened his eyes—which he had closed briefly—and stroked Leila’s hair as if praising a good child. His touch felt languidly gentle at first glance, and the smile on his lips matched it.
The moment Leila sensed an eerie foreboding, the hand that had been stroking her hair suddenly gripped her throat. Matthias shoved the paling Leila down onto the bed, pinning her beneath him.
The instant he straddled the woman he wanted to strangle, Matthias smiled faintly. The mirror above the mantel of the pristine white marble fireplace reflected his image.
In place of Matthias von Herhardt, who had lived days of perfect calm, there now stood a man twisted by the first desperate longing of his life—for something he could not have.
Matthias rose from the bed only after Leila’s ragged breathing had steadied. Utterly exhausted and face-down, she sensed it only by his presence.
Thank goodness.
That was her first thought.
It’s finally over. Thank goodness. Really, thank goodness.
Afraid she might provoke the man again, Leila waited in deathly stillness. Clutching the rumpled sheets and curling her body small, she prayed only for the duke to leave quickly. As his footsteps receded just as expected, a thin sigh of relief escaped her. One more round, and her body might have shattered.
But had she let her guard down too soon? The duke’s footsteps, which had faded quite far, began approaching again. Leila’s knuckles whitened as she gripped the sheets. She could check by just lifting her head, but meeting his eyes was utterly horrifying.
Unable to move forward or back, she prayed like a fool until the duke—now dressed—stroked her hair. He tugged lightly at her strands as if playing, combed them with his fingers, and let out a soft chuckle.
“You did well, Leila.”
Bending down, he whispered low. The humiliation of that stroking hand—like she’d become a woman who sold her body—made Leila’s hands tremble faintly.
Don’t cry.
Leila clung desperately to that one resolve. She hadn’t cried even during that long, agonizing intimacy. She couldn’t shed tears now.
Soon, the sound of the bedroom door closing echoed. Then the annex’s front door opened and shut. The duke had finally left.
Only then did Leila sit up. Rubbing her swollen lips brought a faint trace of blood. It stung, but it wasn’t a deep wound.
Carefully climbing down from the bed and standing on the floor, Leila inadvertently caught sight of herself in the mirror on the mantel. It took her a moment to realize it was her own reflection.
Despite wanting to look away, her dazed eyes stared blankly into the mirror. It was nothing—just a meaningless encounter with a meaningless man. Her mind told her that, but the pain lingering in her body wouldn’t fade so easily.
Feeling unable to dress like this, Leila pulled a handkerchief from her coat pocket and wiped her disheveled body. She had to pause and catch her breath several times, but she didn’t cry in the end. Leila felt deep relief at that fact.
On her way from the empty annex to the cottage, Leila stuck to the shadowed spots to avoid the bright moonlight. Whenever she spotted a pebble or an empty acorn shell, she’d kick it casually into the roadside ditch with a thwack. As if it were nothing at all. As if such petty distractions were enough to forget it.
My beloved Leila.
The letter she wanted to forget resurfaced the moment she slipped quietly into her room at the cottage. Leila found the last letter she hadn’t been able to burn with the others—the one she’d saved despite tossing the rest into the fireplace—and leaned against the bed holding it.
My beloved Leila.
Will you marry me?
Another proposal. It might sound like a foolish joke, but this is more sincere than all the countless proposals I’ve made to you before combined.
My grandfather left me a separate inheritance. Next spring, after my birthday, I’ll gain the right to use that fortune as I wish. It’s not an enormous sum, but it should be enough to buy a small house near the university and for both of us to finish our studies. If rushing into marriage bothers you, we can wait until graduation—I’m fine with that. As long as I can be with you.
So, Leila, come to Ratz with me. Even if you have to retake the exam, you’ll surely pass, and we can study together. Remember, Leila? All those dreams we shared happily as kids. Someday I’ll become a doctor, and you’ll be a scholar studying birds, living wonderfully. I still envision that day. And you’re always in that future. My precious friend and lover, and in that future, my wife and the mother of my children—Leila, my beloved Leila, you.
I love my parents, and I know how much they love me. That won’t change forever. But Leila, that doesn’t mean I can be forced down a path where I can’t be happy. The happiness my mother envisions isn’t mine. It’s her vanity.
I hope time will make her truly accept you, but if not, we’ll just accept that. This doesn’t mean I’m abandoning my family for you. It’s for me—for my own happiness.
So, Leila, will you be my happiness?
Of course, I can’t promise you grand things right now. Without my parents’ shadow, I’m still insignificant. But this I can promise confidently: I’ll love you like my whole world. I’ll cherish you. I won’t hurt you, Leila.
Please, set aside everything else and listen only to your heart. If your heart matches mine, tell me, Leila. I’ll come for you. Let’s leave together. To a place where the two of us can be happy.
Until faint dawn light began to break, Leila read and reread the letter. Every time she imagined the future she might have had with Kyle, the duke’s nightmare intruded as if it were inevitable.
As Bill Leamer stirred awake, Leila rose from the bed. She tenderly stroked the letter one last time before placing it into the fireplace in the corner of the room.
The letter soon turned to ash and vanished.
The cake Hessen had prepared in the annex remained untouched, just as it had been.
It would be foolish to question the master over such a trivial matter, but Hessen couldn’t quite bring himself to simply discard it. He vaguely knew why the duke had insisted on ordering a cake from a hotel tea room in the city, despite having skilled cooks in Arbis. The duke rarely touched sweets like this anyway. It couldn’t have been for himself.
Steeling himself with deep breaths, Hessen entered the duke’s bedroom. He received Hessen’s report as usual and unfolded the newspaper.
“Master, shall I prepare another cake?”
At Hessen’s tentative question, the duke slowly raised his eyes.
“No. It’s fine.”
His gaze drifted to the empty air for a moment before returning to the newspaper.
“Then the remaining cake…”
Knowing it was a foolish question, Hessen broached it carefully. The duke turned a page and replied indifferently.
“Throw it away.”
