The Trash Lady Who Stole the Duke's First Night - Chapter 1The Trash Lady Who Stole the Duke's First NightChapter 1
A rough palm slammed across Elio’s cheek. Her vision flashed blinding white, and her father’s harsh, grating roar pierced her ears.
“You can’t even manage a simple seduction? Sneak into Carlos’s bedchamber! Put that body of yours to use, damn it!”
“Pfft.”
Ahahaha. Collapsed on the floor, Elio trembled all over, her chest heaving. A bitter, mocking smile spread across her upturned face.
“And if I sleep with him? Do you really think the noble heir of a ducal house would propose marriage to the daughter of some backwater count? This isn’t some childish romance novel—”
The Count seized a thick book and hurled it at her head. Elio curled in on herself, shaking violently. The blunt impact knocked the breath right out of her.
“Shut up! His stopping by our territory is a godsent opportunity! You’d better go to him on your own two feet before I strip you naked and throw you in front of Carlos myself. Right now!”
“A Sch-Schuppenhardt would never… to a mere Aquitaine…”
“Again! Another excuse!”
The Count grabbed a fistful of her hair. Pain tore through her scalp, and Elio frantically cradled her forehead.
“How long do you plan on making excuses about our family? You can’t even seduce a single young man! You can’t even manage to lie there naked? Now that you’re of age, you should know how to take a man into your bed!”
Elio wanted to scream at him, to ask if her only worth was as a breeding sow, but her throat choked up.
The Count ground his teeth at her contorted face, panting heavily.
“If you only want to live however you please, get out this instant. A selfish wench like you should’ve been shoved into an orphanage. Taking you in and raising you is the greatest regret of my life.”
Elio curled her fingers tightly into her palms and let out a laugh that sounded like a sob.
I want to leave more than anyone, but aren’t you the one keeping me here? Crawling across the floor like a cockroach, her trembling lips giggled soundlessly.
Unable to contain his rage, his chest heaving, the Count dropped to one knee. His rough palm clung to Elio’s cheek like a snake. His agitated breathing gradually settled, followed by a voice that was soft, damp, and coaxing, as if soothing a child.
“Can’t you make an effort for your father at a time like this? Do you want to live with me forever? Hmm? When someone of your station has the fortune of welcoming the Young Duke, you ought to do whatever it takes. When a man is exhausted after years of subjugation campaigns, shouldn’t you offer him comfort and seize the opportunity?”
With a flushed face, the Count laughed and shook her hair. Elio held her breath, staring at the marble veins right before her nose.
“Move right now. Otherwise, I will drag you there myself. Don’t think I’ll go easy on a freeloading, grown daughter any longer.”
The Count smoothed her furrowed brow with a gentle tap, whispering that she would get wrinkles and telling her to smile pretty. He patted her swollen cheek with his thick palm and stood up.
“You should behave while your father still loves you. Right?”
Elio lay face down on the cold marble like a corpse, clenching her trembling hands. The heavy footsteps receded, followed by the violent slam of the door. Only then did she gasp out her stifled breath.
“Milady…! Are you all right?”
The maid, who had been weeping in the corner, rushed over and helped her up with shaking hands.
Elio staggered toward the window and leaned against it, swallowing down her groans and curses.
A remote estate at the southern edge of the continent. Her father, who had built a lavish four-story mansion far beyond his means and squandered his entire fortune on gambling, was frantic to find any way to bring in money.
It was as if he had adopted her solely to sell her off to a high-ranking family. His sordid greed was sickening and exhausting.
A cold wind blew through the open crack in the window, and rain lashed against the glass like a whip.
Elio looked up at the pitch-black night sky and recalled the towering man who had arrived on a black warhorse just hours ago.
The noble heir of the Ducal House of Schuppenhardt and the continent’s greatest swordsman—Carlos, Commander of the Lobitan Knight Order.
Things had gone to hell precisely because his knights were staying the night at the Count’s estate. They were supposedly on their way back from a monster subjugation expedition in the South.
They were staying at the estate for just this one night.
Her father was carrying on like a mad stallion, demanding she seduce Carlos and consummate the deed within this single night.
How in the world was she supposed to seduce him in a single night?
Did he think Carlos would fall for it if she tempted him naked? That aloof, untouchable man wouldn’t bat an eye even if she danced completely in the nude.
Even if he were swayed for one night, what would change? Elio knew her place all too well.
“Are the Lobitan knights in the annex?”
“Y-yes. Milady, you must apply the potion quickly.”
“…Is it very bad?”
“It’s swollen. Very swollen. It looks like it’ll turn blue.”
Elio stroked her cheek, shuddering at the memory of her father beating her even more, calling her grotesque whenever he saw bruises on her body.
“They say the Lobitan knights are leaving at dawn tomorrow. They must need to return to their territory quickly.”
The maid whispered in a strained voice, shaking out the last drops of the potion onto a piece of cotton.
“And Sir Carlos is still in that room from earlier?”
“Y-yes. The second-floor room you showed him to, Milady.”
Elio threw the window wide open and looked down toward the second floor. Late into the night, the light was still on, and the window remained open.
Leaning out, she exhaled a breath that felt ready to burst from her chest. She inhaled the cold air and the scent of dead acacia deep into her lungs.
The rain stinging her swollen cheek sent a sharp, prickling pain all the way down her neck.
……Die this way. …Or die that way.
For a moment, she stared intently at the bright light from the second-floor window, torn in fierce conflict.
She placed her hands on the windowsill and jumped down.
“Milady!!”
The maid let out a sharp scream, dropping the expensive potion to the floor, and frantically leaned out the window.
Elio was scaling down the wall, clinging to an emergency escape rope—the very rope she had used every time she ran away from home.
“Not again!!”
“This time, I’m following Father’s orders. He told me to sneak in, after all.”
Elio burst into laughter, her blue eyes gleaming. The rain swept down diagonally in a torrential downpour, soaking her through.
The maid was rendered speechless. A purplish, swollen face. A stretched-out, faded gray dress. A noble lady scaling a wall, completely drenched with her pale skin showing through the wet fabric.
What the Count had meant was for her to sneak into his bed under the guise of attending to his bath, not storming in like an assassin in such a dreadful state.
Far from being seduced, the terrifying Sir Carlos was more likely to cut her down with his sword, and the maid ultimately burst into tears.
“Milady! Sob, you’ll die like that…!”
Elio turned a deaf ear to whatever the maid was shouting, focusing entirely on navigating the wall amidst the storming rain. Her teeth chattered uncontrollably.
Battering her body against the stone, the moment she reached the second floor, she stretched her leg out toward the windowsill with all her might.
The moment her foot slipped on the slick rainwater—
‘Ugh!’
Suddenly, something shot out from the window, wrapping around her waist and violently pulling her in.
Her flailing hands caught on a robe as a thick forearm clamped around her body. As a terror-stricken groan escaped her, hot breath thick with the scent of leather and cold steel fell over her forehead.
It was Carlos.
Elio’s eyes flew wide as she caught her breath.
Up close, he was chillingly sculpted, yet the blazing intensity in his eyes was so savage that all she felt was the sheer terror of prey caught in a trap.
…Wh-what? Rather than me breaking in, wasn’t it more accurate to say Carlos had snatched me out of thin air?
Only the crackle of burning firewood and the swelling rush of rain filled the room. It was a suffocating silence.
Fretting over why he wasn’t setting her down, her lips parted and closed, but her mind went completely blank on what to say first. Just being held in his arms was enough to make her senses spin.
‘Should I say, “I thought you wouldn’t open the door, so I came through the window…!”?’
Yet whenever she tried to speak, one look at his predatory face made her heart shrivel up all over again. Unable to look directly into his terrifying eyes, Elio squeezed her eyes tightly shut.
Just go for it…!
“The reason… I came… achoo….”
Looking down at Elio with a grimace as displeased as if he had suffered a surprise attack from a monster, the man tilted his head slightly. Strands of jet-black hair spilled softly over his brow.
“……You really do it all, don’t you.”
Carlos strode forward on his long legs and dropped her onto the plush sofa almost like throwing her down.
His dark gaze raked over Elio as he clenched his jaw and clicked his tongue. Dripping wet and with her soaked skin showing through, she looked more like a beggar than a lady.
Her pale hands trembled violently.
He took off the nightgown draped over his imposing frame. Then, he wrapped it around Elio until not an inch of her wet skin remained visible.
His large hand gripped the teapot and poured tea. The scent of rosemary wafted up from the teacup placed before Elio.
Elio looked up at Carlos with a dazed expression.
She was bewildered by this man who asked no questions—whether he was simply used to ladies sneaking into his room, or silently telling her to drink her tea and get the hell out—as he only stared at her with an intense, predatory gaze as if intending to strip the flesh from her bones.
Her eyes darted aimlessly before she clutched the warm teacup like a lifeline, parting her trembling lips.
“Th-the reason I came like this is…”
“I heard everything you said with the Count.”
He heard what happened two floors up?
As Elio parted her lips in utter disbelief, Carlos’s cold voice rang out.
“It seems you have a death wish, falling through the rain. Are the doors of the Count’s estate merely decorative?”
“……Sir Carlos.”
You wouldn’t have opened the door anyway.
Without even having to think twice, she knew she would have been turned away at the threshold. Judging by his attitude in the banquet hall just an hour ago, he was more than capable of doing so.
Yet she couldn’t bring herself to say it aloud, managing only an awkward, trembling smile.
“‘Sir Carlos’ what?”
Her shoulders shrank under his chilling gaze and massive physique as he approached, scanning her like prey. The roaring crimson flames of the fireplace flickered across his bronze skin, catching the sheen of sweat.
“What would I have done to you?”
Splash. The man stepped without hesitation onto the puddle gathered beneath her skirt. His thick thighs loomed right in front of her.
Elio frantically felt her bruised cheek and her wretched, tattered dress. She hurriedly lifted her skirt to see if there were any more hideous bruises she could show him, but of all places, they were on the inner side and hard to see. Anxiety threatened to move her to tears.
“What are you doing? Hoping I’ll pounce on you?”
Carlos spat out the words as he leaned down. His eyes narrowed fiercely, as though ready to devour her whole.
