The Trash Lady Who Stole the Duke's First Night
Chapter 20
Elio was so nervous she couldn't tell if the beef was going into her mouth or up her nose, her eyes constantly darting toward the banquet hall's two-story-tall arched doors.
Dining in an annex far removed from the main castle of Duke's Castle was a compromise in its own right, yet her pounding heart refused to settle.
She felt as though His Grace the Duke and the Duchess might burst through the doors at any second, screaming, 'How dare you touch my son!' before dragging her away by the hair.
“……Do I really not need to greet them? What if they find it insolent and come looking for me? Did they truly say nothing about me?”
Carlos twitched a brow as if telling her to stop asking, lightly tapping his steak plate with his knife.
“You don't have to. They won't come. They said nothing. Eat.”
“Commander. Why hasn't the Empress sent any assassins lately? Is she busy fighting with the Imperial Consort?”
“Does the Imperial Consort even have the guts for that? Unless her daughter, Her Highness the Imperial Princess, is charging in like a raging bull.”
At the drunken mutters of the knights, another knight scowled and set down his wineglass.
“She should just offer a hundred-day prayer for the Imperial Prince to hurry up and become Emperor. Why the hell does she keep sending assassins after our commander, who's minding his own damn business? Is it our commander's fault her son doesn't get his father's love?”
One knight theatrically traced the sign of divine protection.
“Her Majesty the Empress, please! Repent for your life as a dreadful villainess. And stop taking your damn anger out on us just because your husband doesn't love you.”
Elio tilted her head, listening blankly to the knights' sarcastic banter.
Their words drifted through her mind a beat too slow, her gears turning sluggishly as she tried to piece together who was sending assassins to whom.
“You said it was good. Why aren't you eating?”
The man gestured nonchalantly toward the bowl of stew in front of her.
“Want something else?”
“No. Please have more, Sir. I've eaten plenty.”
Elio secretly fiddled with her knight's undergarments, letting out a stifled breath against the suffocating tightness around her chest.
Was it supposed to feel this constricting?
Desperate to unfasten the undergarment this very second, she rubbed aimlessly at her back and chest.
It was then.
“Commander!”
The moment someone flung the banquet hall doors wide open, Elio hiccuped.
“Shit. That crazy bastard Harry is here!”
As the knight at the door shouted the Imperial Prince's name in exasperation, several knights groaned in unison.
“Is he out of his mind? Why does he keep stalking us like a stray dog? That bastard has been trailing us since the pilgrimage route!”
As if he had seen this coming, Carlos waved a hand to have the guest shown to the drawing room, then leaned in close to her ear.
“What is it? Indigestion?”
Blinking in surprise at the knights' uproar, Elio quickly shook her head. It was far too embarrassing to explain that her undergarment was to blame.
Wondering who on earth had arrived, she merely rolled her eyes and gulped down her wine.
Leon pushed back his chair and strode out, seemingly intending to receive the uninvited guest himself. Once the curses and commotion over the lunatic died down, Grita spoke up.
“If they keep multiplying at this rate, we'll be facing another Monster War. The Grempin population has more than quadrupled.”
“Yeah. Those monster bastards are acting strange. But before we hunt monsters, let's spy on the Empress's palace first. Commander, the Empress not sending assassins is far stranger than the monsters, I tell you.”
Left completely in the dark amid their conversation, Elio's throat grew parched, and a heavy languor settled over her, making her sway from side to side. It felt as though she were floating through the sky, wrapped in soft fleece.
As she bobbed her head, a hand suddenly reached into her field of vision, making her flinch.
Carlos replied to Grita while placing the back of his hand against Elio's forehead.
The glass in her left hand was snatched away immediately. He downed her wine in a single gulp, then ladled fresh, steaming stew onto her plate.
“What are you glaring at? Stop drinking. Don't eat it cold.”
“Wh-Who is Her Majesty the Empress sending assassins after? You, Sir?”
“What's this? Were you listening? Are you drunk or not?”
Sitting across from Elio, Toby chugged his beer, his narrow eyes creasing.
“I'm not drunk. Why do you keep treating me like a drunkard?”
Elio spoke with perfect, unslurred clarity.
She hadn't known since this was her first time drinking, but she seemed surprisingly good with alcohol. Even after chatting with Grita and knocking back several glasses in a row right as the banquet began, she didn't feel drunk at all.
Just as Elio focused her gaze with resolute clarity, a cold sigh escaped Carlos.
“I-If assassins are being sent after you, Sir… then I'm in danger too. I need to know. I could die as well…”
“And what will you do if you know?”
“I-I'll try to dodge…”
Toby merely drank his beer with a strange, scrunched expression, while Carlos silently stared at her face.
Tucking back a stray lock of hair that had slipped from her updo, he retorted coldly.
“If you're done eating, go up and sleep. Your bedroom is ready.”
Elio bit her lip. Why was he always trying to send only her away? While they kept talking among themselves…
Suppressing the surge of emotion, Elio bowed her head. Perhaps prying any further truly was overstepping her bounds.
“…Just me?”
Carlos looked down at the small fingers clutching the hem of his shirt, then gazed quietly at the lingering baby fat on her cheeks.
“……What, you want me to come up with you?”
Elio hesitated for a fleeting moment, then nodded.
“Yes.”
“…….”
Seeing the man fall silent as if taken aback, Elio giggled, the corners of her lips curling up.
She giggled that she would get lost inside Duke's Castle, that the desolate, undecorated corridors were so terrifying they resembled him to a tee.
Resting his chin on his hand, Carlos quietly watched the drunken woman's silly smile.
Over her shoulder, his eyes met Grita's.
Thick cigar smoke. The loud, steady ticking of the second hand. The boisterous chatter of the knights drifted through the air.
“You bastards! It's the blessed hour of eight! Order another round!”
Dong. Dong. Dong. In time with the grandfather clock's chiming, the knights roughly shook their beer kegs.
Grita gazed steadily at him, and Carlos was the first to look away with an indifferent expression.
Looking at the woman beaming like a little chick beneath the yellow light, a soft chuckle escaped him once more.
Her small, red lips twitched in utter satisfaction over a drop of beer falling onto the back of his hand, before she pursed them in sudden concentration. He brought a glass of water to her mouth.
“Drink.”
Her eyes widening, Elio instinctively gulped the water down. Carlos wiped away every drop trickling down her chin with his palm.
While Elio flushed crimson, Carlos wordlessly brushed over the hollow of her collarbone, then rose to his feet.
Leaving the petite woman who stared up at him with round eyes behind, he strode toward the terrace.
Taking long strides past the window and shutting the terrace doors behind him, all the noise instantly faded into the distance.
Pressing a hand to his brow, he rummaged through his cigar case.
The fading twilight and the uncooling night breeze brushed against his heated body. Tearing open his suffocating shirt buttons as if ripping them off, he put a cigar to his lips.
❖ ❖ ❖
“Hyung-nim!”
“…….”
“Hyung-nim! Aren't you going to introduce me?”
Past midnight, the night deepened even further. The lights in the banquet hall showed no sign of dying out. A vein bulged on Carlos's temple.
“Oh, come on. After I came all this way just to see your face. At least look at me, hyung-nim. I even abandoned the Holy Knight Order's rookie initiation ceremony and dashed over the moment I heard you found a woman.”
Carlos sighed and brushed his bangs back. Harry smiled brightly, his eyes curving into crescents as he swept back the vivid pink, bobbed hair fluttering over his shoulders.
“Hyung-nim. Honestly, between Her Highness the Imperial Princess and Lady Aquitaine, who do you think is more beautiful?”
Carlos, who had been tracing monster migration routes on a map of the continent while downing beer like water, raised his head. His fierce eyes narrowed as he clicked his tongue.
“Who are you comparing a child to right now?”
“My, a child? Where on earth is there a child here?”
“Stop spouting nonsense and go back. How long are you going to loiter here after ditching your own knights?”
Carlos pulled the blanket up over what was resting on his lap and cut him off coldly.
“Hyung-nim, you know I'm just a fragile commander in name only. No one looks for me. I'm just a clumsy new commander, so I need your guidance, hyung-nim.”
Harry deliberately drooped his brows with a sorrowful expression. At that pure, pretty face, the Lobitan knights shuddered with disgust, looking as if they had chewed on shit.
Their stomachs churned at the feigned innocence of the Imperial Prince, whose methods were even more ruthless than their commander's, even if his swordsmanship fell short.
It was utterly absurd how he brazenly followed the commander around calling him 'hyung-nim,' fully aware that his own mother was constantly sending assassins to Schuppenhardt.
Lacking even an ounce of shame, he acted as though they were sworn brothers who couldn't live without each other.
“Hyung-nim, so who's more beautiful?”
Harry grinned again and rubbed his forehead against Carlos's thick forearm like a puppy. He looked just like a large dog begging for affection.
“A whole hundred thousand shillings is riding on your answer, hyung-nim. You must answer carefully and honestly.”
Leaning against Carlos's arm, he shook a pouch of gold coins. The middle-aged knights seated at Carlos's table chugged their beer, shouting for him to just get the hell out.
Dressed in plain clothes with only a single sword strapped to his waist, Harry had boldly arrived alone. Unbothered, he occupied the seat next to Carlos as if he were a Lobitan knight himself, laughing out loud.
“For the record, I bet on Her Highness the Imperial Princess. The way you looked at her, the continent's greatest beauty… No matter how I think about it, that intense gaze of yours was far from ordinary, wasn't it?”
Leon grimaced as if he had just heard something revolting.
“He is currently betrothed to Lady Aquitaine. That is an insolent question. If you are drunk, please take your leave.”
Grita nodded, adding politely.
“Even if it is an engagement to a fallen noble, the fact remains that Lady Aquitaine is his fiancée. A forced first night is hardly the lady's fault. Your Highness, please show the respect befitting a knight toward a lady.”
“…A fallen noble? Lady Aquitaine?”
A few knights who had been quietly drinking while reading the room asked in shock if Lady Aquitaine truly was a fallen noble, to which Grita affirmed with a sorrowful smile.
