2 - The Time of the Blind Beast (15+ Revised Edition) Episode 2
Chapter 2
To quell her cough, she lowered her voice. Her hoarse, muffled voice was close to a thread of a whisper. If the blankets hadn't done a decent job of muffling the sound of the rain, it wouldn't have been audible.
“……A search.”
The man listened for a moment to her soft, panting breaths. The woman's narrow ribcage rose and fell shallowly. Just high enough to match the breath he had exhaled.
The woman, without any resistance, had let all the strength drain from her body, waiting for his decision.
“Alright.”
The decision was made.
The hand that had been gripping her throat fiercely now pressed against her lips. She obediently parted her mouth at his silent urging. His hand fumbled inside her mouth, tracing her tongue, then menacingly clasped her jaw before slowly sliding down her collarbone. Only then could she breathe a sigh of relief, her breathing now lighter.
“For now, it seems her eyes, nose, and mouth are still in place.”
With his fingertips, the man distinguished the hollowed-out area above her prominent collarbone. She was a woman with hardly any flesh. The frame of her body was palpable.
His fingertips caught on the shoulder strap of her nightgown. He cut it without hesitation. Whether it was caught or held, the nightgown was torn to shreds in an instant.
He dropped the scrap of cloth to the floor. It was part of the process of searching for any unidentified noises. The pieces of fabric, tossed down in several stages, flew through the air and landed with soft rustles. Amidst the faint, gentle sounds, there were no suspicious traces.
The woman who had boldly declared she would search his body herself was pinned beneath him, unable to move.
He slowly brought his nose close to a part of her body. He sensed her using four of his five senses, excluding sight. The touch of soft down tickled his nostrils. It was likely behind her ear, on the nape of her neck where fine hairs grew.
Her hair, spread wide on the sheet, was remarkably soft. It was quite long, too. He buried his face in her hair and inhaled deeply. The woman, who had just been tidying up the open window near the window, carried a faint scent of rainwater mixed with laundry soap.
“Come to think of it, your voice sounded unfamiliar.”
Though the question was rather abrupt, the woman answered calmly.
“I’ve been here for a week.”
There was a reason for the unfamiliarity. New hires were placed in the most secluded areas, where they wouldn't encounter him. The woman seemed to be in charge of laundry.
He slowly ran his hand down her body. His fingertips, tracing the neat bone structure, felt the rounded mound of her breasts. The particularly soft sensation was akin to holding a lump of mud. As he curved his fingers along the convex shape, a suitable weight filled his palm. The tip of her erect nipple scraped against his palm.
The woman’s breathing faltered slightly. Her skin, warm with a faint heat, rose and fell delicately with her breath. Whether from the cold or tension, the woman’s body temperature was a little low.
He discerned the bumpy contours of her ribs. The hollow of her waist beneath her ribs was too narrow to be fully grasped. His hand, moving past her waistline and gauging the round prominence of her hip bones, tore through the seam of her underwear. With this, she became completely naked, not a thread left.
Despite her calm compliance, her body was quite honest in its fear. Her stiff thighs obstructed his entry. Of course, that was not his concern.
His hand twisted and opened her vulva. Two fingers roughly penetrated the dry, tight entrance. His sightless fingers roughly scraped and fumbled against the narrow, dry mucous membrane. It was a touch that searched her body, devoid of any sexual implication.
The rough handling brought unfamiliar pain. The man’s thick, long fingers probed surprisingly deep. There was nothing to be caught, as she had nothing to hide. She endured, her lips pressed together, until the man’s hands, having found nothing, withdrew from her body.
Every second felt like an hour. After thoroughly searching her entire body, the grip on her wrist loosened.
She slowly lowered her freed arms. The slight movement opened a corner of the blanket. The cold air from outside rushed into the space confined by the body heat of two people, which had been heating up. Her body cooled instantly.
She picked up one of the larger torn pieces of cloth to cover herself and stood up. Her legs felt sore and numb from the pain of being probed. She walked with a limp.
“If you permit me, I will take my leave now.”
Just as she bowed her head in a final farewell and turned to leave, knowing he couldn't see her anyway,
“Your name.”
A slow voice halted her steps for a moment.
She remained silent for a beat before answering.
“……Rose. My name is Rose.”
The man nodded his chin. It was a dismissal.
Just before opening the door to leave, Rose glanced back at him briefly.
The man had already lost interest in her and was fumbling to balance a small medicine bottle against the long neck of a half-empty wine bottle. The yellowish-brown liquid in the medicine bottle dropped into the wine with a plink. The sweet grassy scent she had smelled earlier wafted faintly.
The man swirled the wine mixed with the medicine and gulped it down. Rose was inwardly surprised by the smoothness of his movements. It was clearly a habit ingrained through repetition, allowing him to perform the action naturally even without sight.
As she opened the door and stepped out, the servants gathered in the hallway exchanged looks of relief. It was natural to be curious about what had happened, seeing her enter fully clothed and emerge clutching rags, naked. Yet, no one asked what had transpired inside.
Someone draped a robe over her exposed back.
A place where nothing surprises, no matter what happens.
This is the Beast’s mansion.
“Rose, how is your throat?”
Madam Serva approached, parting the hazy steam in the laundry room. Madam Serva, whose journey had been delayed by the midnight storm, had returned to the mansion by carriage only at dawn.
Rose cleared her throat with a short, dry cough.
“It’s fine.”
Despite her answer, her voice was still hoarse.
Upon waking that morning, she had discovered the dark blue bruises from the hand that had choked her still imprinted on her neck. Not to mention the pressure of the man’s thighs on hers. She had quickly wrapped a handkerchief around the marks, but most of the servants had already witnessed the bruises that adorned Rose’s body the previous night. That was why everyone had remained silent.
“You must have been very frightened. I wish I hadn’t left yesterday.”
Madam Serva, who served as the butler and head steward of the mansion, was an elderly woman with white hair. Though tall and upright for her age, her eyesight was poor, and she couldn't see clearly without thick reading glasses. She always tapped her cane due to her aching knees.
“No.”
Rose denied it. However, Madam Serva, who had heard all about last night from other servants, did not believe Rose’s explanation and gently pulled aside the handkerchief around her neck. Her eyes, slightly distorted by her reading glasses, moved closer, examining the wound from various angles. The old woman tutted at the black finger marks encircling her neck.
“Perhaps if this old woman, with her failing body, had to attend to everything alone, you might finally stop doing this.”
It was clear what Madam Serva was worried about. With the already insufficient staff, she feared Rose would decide to leave the mansion.
The truth was, the extremely low number of servants in the mansion was partly intended to conceal the fact that the man, once a hero of national salvation, had gone blind. However, a significant reason was also that the servants couldn't tolerate the man’s eccentric temperament and had fled one after another.
Rose adjusted the knot of the handkerchief.
“……I won’t quit over something like this. Don’t worry.”
Her assurance brightened Madam Serva’s expression.
“Indeed, I didn’t misjudge you. From the first day I saw you, I thought you were a prudent and thoughtful young lady.”
“Me? Why is that?”
“Because you came at night. No matter how short-handed we are, we don’t accept people who arrive during the day.”
Was this also a rule of the mansion?
This mansion had many peculiar rules. Rules that demanded obedience without explanation. Rose lowered her gaze.
“It may be difficult to accept, but please don’t think too ill of Lord Ezekiel.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“He wasn’t this harsh before he lost his sight……”
Having confirmed Rose’s intention not to quit, Madam Serva subtly began to defend her master.
“I still remember the day Lord Ezekiel arrived at this mansion. It was in the middle of a blizzard. He said he had deliberately chosen a harsh day to leave. Fearing he was being pursued, he came with only about four subordinates who had fought alongside him, without even proper attire. Since he couldn’t ride a horse, he was carried on the saddle.”
The old woman’s eyes suddenly misted over. She added with a sigh,
“From the capital, Claris, all the way to Derosa here, without the banner of Valdemara… as if he were mere baggage.”
