The Trash Lady Who Stole the Duke's First Night
Chapter 14
“Well. Our commander’s a bit rough around the edges. He doesn’t know the first thing about dealing with women. Treats women just like he treats the lads, tsk.”
Toby clicked his tongue as if he were entirely different. Elio, whose brow had furrowed in bewilderment, turned her gaze back to Toby and gave a prompt nod.
The man who had bought the most potions among the knights didn’t seem like a bad sort, but sitting alone with him was awkward enough to make her sweat.
“…Even if your temper is a bit nasty, I actually like honest knights like you best, Sir Toby.”
Yip! Yiiiip! Yip!
Elio knitted her brows in concern at the puppy’s renewed cries. She rolled her eyes around searching for the pup, and only after the whimpering subsided did she speak softly, recalling the most foul-mouthed and abrasive woman in her life.
“It’s fine if your words are rough and unrefined. When you bought my potions, Sir Toby, I could feel your sincerity. I’m very used to nasty tempers, so you can treat me casually.”
Whenever she had offered potions to the knights, Toby had tossed out a word that they were more effective than they looked, which had seemed to help them sell much better.
“Thank you so much for today. I believe you and I can become good friends. Without any prejudice toward each other.”
Is she insulting me, or complimenting me? Just as Toby opened his mouth in bewilderment, Elio tilted her head inquisitively.
“And besides, Sir Toby is the most exceptional in Lobitan… Well, after Sir Carlos, of course?”
Elio quickly corrected the flattering remark that Toby so detested.
“Damn it… What the hell are you on about?”
“Y-You know the absolute second-most and are the second-best swordsman…! So whom else could I ask besides Sir Carlos, if not you, Sir Toby?”
Toby scratched the back of his head vigorously before letting out a dry cough. He gulped down wine from his half-opened waterskin and looked at Elio.
Under his piercing gaze, Elio tightly clasped her hands together.
“…To be honest, your speed was good.”
Toby leaned toward the crazy rabbit whose face had just lit up brightly.
“But why the hell do your hands tremble like that? What’s with that bizarre lack of courage… No, did that crazy swordsmanship teacher of yours only teach you assassin arts meant for slitting throats?”
“Unnie?”
Elio narrowed her brow in turn and leaned toward Toby.
“I only learned it for self-defense…”
“Toby.”
At the sudden, sharp, low voice, Elio flinched and straightened her spine.
“Commander? What’s that?”
The man strode forward carrying a washbasin, a blanket-wrapped white bundle tucked under his arm.
Startled, Elio scooted back.
“Go see Leon.”
“Why that bastard Leon! Is he kicking up a fuss over the budget again? He buys magic books whenever he damn well pleases, so why is he making a fuss about my sword?”
“Go fight him then.”
Carlos set the bundle under his arm into the basin with a casual plop.
Elio blinked rapidly as she looked at the white puppy eagerly lapping up the milk in the basin.
It was surprising enough that Carlos had fed the puppy, but the sight of the pup practically swimming in milk to drink it was even more absurd.
No… if he’s going to feed it, he should do it properly…. He… he dunked the poor thing in milk…. Is that why it kept crying?
Elio rushed over to the basin with a distressed look.
“P-Puppy. Puppy.”
She lifted the sopping-wet, plump-bellied puppy and glared fiercely.
The man raised an eyebrow at her glare.
How can he be so rough, even with a tiny puppy?
She wanted to yell and let her anger out, but under the giant man’s calm, heavy gaze, she found herself shrinking back.
Even so, she held her ground, holding out the milk-soaked puppy as she spoke boldly.
“Were you testing to see if the puppy was strong, too? Don’t go drowning a little creature in milk when it needs care and affection. You did the same to me—you’re awfully tough on the weak, aren’t you?”
“I was tough on you?”
“Yes. Very much so.”
Elio let out an exaggeratedly loud sigh and cradled the puppy to her chest once more. Carlos placed a cigar between his lips, his eyes narrowing with amusement.
“You want affection?”
Elio’s jaw dropped at his alleyway-thug attitude. The leisurely way he leaned crookedly against the wall, smirking, suited a scoundrel strangely well, making her earlobes burn hot.
“No!”
Carlos let out a long trail of cigar smoke and murmured,
“How mean.”
“…!”
“Not even letting me show the puppy some love.”
With her face flushing crimson, Elio turned her head away and bit the soft flesh inside her lip.
“I-I’m going to take care of it.”
Carlos nodded as if acknowledging her claim, then bent his knees and crouched beside her. Elio shifted slightly aside and quietly rubbed the puppy’s belly.
“I want to show some affection, too.”
“…”
“Shall I give you some?”
“…Is it fun teasing me?”
As Elio huffed and scrambled to her feet, her chest heaving, Carlos flicked his cigar ash and nodded. The corners of his mouth curved up in a sharp grin.
“Yeah.”
Just as Elio bit her trembling lips and hung her head at the throbbing ache in her stomach—
“What about medicine? Does it still hurt?”
Elio’s shoulders twitched. Before she knew it, the man’s large feet were planted right in front of her.
“I asked if you don’t need a painkiller or something.”
Elio blinked rapidly, staring down at his black combat boots.
“Grita told me. She said your stomach was hurting.”
Unable to answer, Elio only felt the heat rise up her neck. Her stomach had turned inside out from eating greasy food for the first time in six months. No, it was definitely because of the stress this man caused her.
“You’re a handful.”
The man’s cool voice, accompanied by a click of his tongue, dropped over her head.
“…I don’t need medicine. I’m fine.”
“Wrap this around yourself and go to your room. Why are you hugging a soaking-wet mutt anyway?”
The man stripped off his tunic and tied it around Elio’s waist.
Startled, Elio looked down at her skirt. The front where she had hugged the puppy was soaked through.
“It’s see-through. Wrap it and go.”
“It’s fine. I can just cover it as I walk.”
“’It’s fine, it’s fine.’ Are you going to make me repeat myself?”
The man spoke in a flat tone, his gaze boring steadily into Elio’s eyes.
Elio swallowed hard and shook her head.
“Is a painkiller all you need?”
“Where are you going to get one? It’s late at night, so just tomorrow…”
“I’ll take care of finding it. Just go to sleep.”
The man cut her off as if annoyed. He pressed the back of his hand to her forehead, then let out another sigh.
At his relentless sighing, Elio pulled her neck in like a turtle, thoroughly uneasy.
“Look after your own body properly. Don’t go collapsing for no reason; take your medicine on time. If you keep being sickly, I’ll leave you behind somewhere and let a wicked bear take you away.”
Elio shifted her unsettled gaze at the cold barrage of words.
A bear? Who does he think he’s feeding a descendant of dragons to?
She cast her eyes down to the ground, trying to avoid his imposing chest that dominated her view. She was already flustered thinking about how pathetic she must look to a man whose ideal type was a strong woman.
When will my mana ever grow?
“Come here.”
Elio peeked up. Before she knew it, he was already ahead of her.
“Where are you going?”
Elio widened her eyes, determined not to stare at the chiseled, living muscles of his back, and forced her gaze down past his trim waist, thick thighs, and long calves to fix firmly on his boots.
“To your room. We need to head up.”
“You too, Sir Carlos?”
“Then what? You want me to wander around stripped like this?”
“No! Of course you should put something on! You’re the Commander of Lobitan and the Young Duke. Of course you should be dressed properly.”
Elio jogged to catch up beside him, hardly knowing what she was blathering on about.
Why was he the one with his shirt off, yet also the one acting completely unbothered? As Elio rolled her eyes and furrowed her brow—
The man curled one corner of his mouth and suddenly leaned down close to her.
“Right. With the Commander of Lobitan and the Young Duke right here, why ask the vice-commander?”
“Me? Ask what?”
“About today’s spar. To be honest, was I goo—”
Before he could even finish mimicking her, Elio let out a choked cough and whipped her head away.
Scrunching her bright red face, she quickened her scurrying steps.
“…Sir Carlos. Do something about those wicked ears of yours.”
Rustle, crunch. The sounds of her stepping on sand and dry leaves grew faster.
“How can you eavesdrop on everything from two floors up and overhear what happens way out on a bench, leaving a person with no privacy at all?”
“It’s not always like that.”
“Then why were you eavesdropping?”
“It just carries well. Your voice.”
While the woman took four steps, the man took one languid stride, opening his cigar case. Elio glared at the shameless chain-smoker.
“Are you saying it’s my voice’s fault? I have a right to privacy, too!”
“Ah. You have privacy?”
Carlos replied with an indifferent face.
Speechless with indignation, Elio opened her mouth, then took wider strides as if refusing to deal with him any further.
“Of course I do! Please don’t ever eavesdrop again.”
“On what? You confessing your feelings to another man when you have a fiancé?”
Carlos tilted his head, blowing out smoke. Horrified, Elio waved her hands frantically.
“Th-That wasn’t what I meant when I spoke to Sir Toby! Besides, Sir Toby is way older! Th-There is no way it could mean something like that…!”
“Arranged marriages with a twenty-year age gap are common enough.”
Carlos gave a cool chuckle, asking if she didn’t know that half the young ladies who debuted ended up marrying men more than ten years their senior.
Elio opened and closed her mouth like a fish, turning her flushed face away.
Forget a debutante ball; she had never even had tea with other noble ladies or young lords. Knowing full well that there was probably no countryside bumpkin quite like herself, her voice pitched shrilly in defensive irritation.
“I don’t even consider anyone more than two years older as a man, anyway!”
Carlos, who was opening the back door of the inn, raised a brow.
“…Then am I a woman?”
“No! You’re practically an old man!”
Dodging the man whose brow twitched, Elio promptly slipped inside the back door and glared at him.
“Right. Let this old man quickly fetch you some diarrhea medi—”
Slam. Flushed crimson, Elio kicked the door shut.
Carlos wiped a hand down his face, letting out a laugh of utter disbelief.
In the next breath, he yanked the door open as if tearing it from its hinges. He seized the slender wrist of the woman backing away with wide, rabbit-like eyes.
“Th-The wind! The wind blew it shut! Really, it wasn’t me, it was the wind…!”
