Yet there was no other reaction from her.
“In any case, we are to be married.”
Ryan burst into laughter at her astonishingly calm tone.
“So, you wouldn't mind if I forced myself on you?”
“Would you truly touch me against my will?”
He gripped her wrist firmly, the corner of his mouth twisting into a mocking sneer.
Anasta felt a fleeting sense of relief when he let go of her wrist, but her eyes widened in horror at his next move: he violently yanked down the strap of her dress resting on her shoulder.
“What are you doing…!”
“You said it yourself—we are to be married.”
Ryan caught her wrist again when she instinctively moved to shield her body.
“See? You don't want this either.”
Anasta's wrist trembled faintly; this was undeniably wrong.
“Demand another room.”
Releasing her wrist, Ryan stepped away.
“I told you just moments ago, I truly have no choice, Young Master.”
Anasta pulled back her marked wrist and stood up swiftly.
“Is that so? Then just leave this estate.”
It was that simple.
“Don't assume locking the door will resolve anything. That door doesn't just grant you access to my room; it lets me enter yours whenever I please.”
With those parting words, Ryan slammed the door shut.
· · ·
A chilling silence settled over where he had stood.
The harsh winter wind rattled the window, and cold moonlight spilled across her room.
She let out the breath she had been holding.
The strength of the man she had assumed was frail was astonishingly fierce.
His broad frame and commanding presence—honed at the military academy before he fell ill—made her feel as though she were facing a predatory beast.
Anasta squeezed her eyes shut.
‘The wealth of the Soltaire family is vast. In exchange for this marriage, my parents received an estate twice the size of Winterlit manor, along with enough flour to sustain them for a year.’
Nothing in this world came without a price.
Reminding herself of that, Anasta cradled her aching wrist and rose slowly. Though she knew locking the door would do little good, she turned the key nonetheless, retreated to the farthest corner of the bed, and curled into herself.
The bed was soft, but sleep eluded her. Keeping her eyes fixed watchfully on the door, she managed only a brief doze once the sun finally rose.
“Changing rooms is out of the question, isn't it?”
The Head Maid raised an eyebrow at Anasta's words.
“Of course. Is something troubling you?”
“The Young Master feels uncomfortable with me staying in the adjoining room.”
“Nothing can be done about that. It is the only way for you to attend to the Young Master.”
The Head Maid replied coldly, setting breakfast before Anasta. Anasta looked down at the table she had entirely to herself and asked,
“Does Sir Ryan take his breakfast separately?”
“He eats in his room. Usually, a maid brings it to him, but starting tomorrow…”
The Head Maid shot a sideways glance at Anasta.
“…you are to handle this duty yourself.”
· · ·
“It is simple. Serve him breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and ten minutes after each meal, administer his medicine. Should the master require anything else, you are to bring it to him.”
Marriage had merely been a pretext; she truly had been brought here to nurse Ryan.
Anasta offered a bitter smile at the straightforward treatment she had anticipated all along.
“And aside from that?”
“You may do as you please. It is quite simple.”
Anasta recalled Ryan coming at her in the dead of night.
He was certain to refuse both food and medicine, and he would surely make every little thing an ordeal for her.
Even so, she had to prevent a repeat of what had happened at dawn, so if the room could not be changed…
Anasta realized she would need an iron resolve.
Ryan realized that Anasta had neither changed her room nor left the estate.
‘Must I frighten her once more?’
He had anticipated that a single warning would not suffice. She had undoubtedly received far too much from the Soltaire family to abandon everything and leave straightaway.
Ryan turned the handle of the connecting door.
‘She locked it.’
A pointless gesture. He fished the key from his pocket, unlocked the door immediately, and stepped through the quiet, still room toward the bed.
· · ·
The bed was empty.
Not only that, but the duvet and pillows were gone as well.
‘Where is she hiding?’
Caught off guard, Ryan searched the wardrobe and behind the curtains for the woman who had slipped away like a mouse, but he found not a single trace of her.
Before long, Ryan reached the conclusion that she had fled without his knowledge. Only then, taking in her absence, did a faint smile touch his lips.
‘She didn't even last a week.’
It wasn't a bad outcome; dragging this out would benefit neither of them, and a clean departure like this was for the best.
Just as Ryan was about to leave the room with a lighter step, he caught the sound of movement somewhere nearby.
· · ·
Specifically, from out in the hallway.
It was well past midnight, enveloped in pitch blackness, and the maids should have extinguished the corridor lights and retired to their quarters to sleep.
Ryan's gaze sharpened instantly. He glanced around and picked up an unlit candlestick.
With each step toward the door, the movement grew clearer—and it certainly wasn't a maid.
The rustling was strange and cautious.
‘A thief?’
Whoever it was, infiltrating the Soltaire estate this late at night meant they possessed considerable nerve.
Ryan adjusted his grip on the candlestick, pausing before the door to catch his breath. Had he not been ill, he could have subdued an intruder who couldn't even conceal their presence with a single blow, but circumstances were different now.
This emaciated body of his could collapse at any moment.
Therefore, Ryan resolved to strike one decisive blow. Just as he seized the doorknob and readied the candlestick to swing—
· · ·
He saw nothing at eye level. Looking down, he found a figure lying on the floor, wrapped snugly in a duvet.
“What in the…”
It was Anasta.
He lowered his arm as he stared at her, sleeping peacefully and curled into a ball like a child, feeling both underwhelmed and utterly baffled.
This was the hallway—the hard, unyielding floor.
“Have you lost your mind?”
Ryan leaned down to get a closer look at Anasta, then poked her cheek with the candlestick he held.
“Hey.”
· · ·
“I said wake up.”
“Mmh.”
“You're certainly sleeping comfortably.”
Ryan remained thoroughly perplexed. What on earth was this tactic? Did she intend to elicit his sympathy and pity?
Yet Anasta slept as though this hallway were the most comfortable place in the world.
He couldn't very well carry her to her bed either.
Ryan rubbed his face in disbelief, at a total loss. Perhaps sensing his movement, her eyelashes fluttered faintly.
“…Young Master?”
Anasta blinked several times, then cautiously sat up.
“Why are you sleeping here?”
· · ·
“I'm asking you.”
“I apologize. I'm not fully awake yet.”
Ryan let out a dry, incredulous scoff at the woman's brazenness.
Whether he scoffed or not, Anasta rubbed her eyes and looked around: the dead of night, an open door, and the man before her holding a candlestick.
“Did you take me for a thief?”
Ryan flinched slightly at Anasta's words.
“Anyone would think so if they sensed movement in a corridor where no one ought to be.”
· · ·
“So, why don't you tell me? Do you sleepwalk?”
“You said you would violate me.”
Ryan was momentarily struck speechless.
“What?”
“I detest forced relations, and I believe such things should have no place here. That is why I slept in the hallway.”
“The hallway seems safe, does it? Does it come with a protective shield or something?”
“The hallway is cold and hard, and it is a place where anyone might pass by. I believed that, as a gentleman, you would not violate me in such a setting.”
“I am no gentleman.”
Assault and nobility—they were words that never belonged together.
“If you're so terrified of being violated, wouldn't it be better for you to just leave the estate?”
“I have been sold, and I was told the contract does not permit a refund.”
“So, do you plan to sleep in this hard, freezing corridor until the day I die?”
Her body would grow exhausted and ache with pain; even if she endured a single day, could she truly last a week?
Fortunately, winter had only just begun, but once the biting cold set in, this woman would yearn for a bed and wander back to it like a sleepwalker.
“Suit yourself.”
Exhausted of patience, Ryan stood up abruptly.
It mattered little to him if the woman's body stiffened or if she froze to death. Wouldn't that be even better? He would be able to drive her out without having to lift a finger.
‘Though it is amusing.’
Yet it wasn't the kind of amusement that sat well with him.
Ryan did not care for the way Anasta kept catching him off guard, answering him with such steady, unyielding composure.
END
