The Trash Lady Who Stole the Duke's First Night
Chapter 37
Chapter 37
“What does being a gentleman at night even matter? A man ought to be a gentleman by day.”
His low laughter rumbled in response.
The vibration carried straight through to her, making her shoulders and the nape of her neck stiffen even more. She rubbed her fingertips together hard.
“I’ve done my research, you know. On His Highness the Prince. No, on Commander Pearlbuck.”
“……”
“They say his manners toward ladies are truly impeccable. Not that I’m working here expecting to be treated like a lady, but…”
With a faint rustle, she curled in on herself out of sudden embarrassment, resting her head against her arm.
The back of the man’s hand, lined with prominent blue veins, lay right before her eyes, making her mouth run dry.
“Anyway, a person needs basic decency, right? If I’m going to serve you as a client, I have to weigh these things carefully… The knights hold you in remarkably high regard, too. I'm sure Commander Pearlbuck will treat me like a true gentle—”
Her words cut off.
A warm hand covered her lips.
His finger slowly pressed down on her bottom lip. Elio’s slightly parted lips trembled as they closed.
The thick tip of his finger slipped past her lips, brushing against her tongue. A deep breath sounded right by her ear, and Elio froze, holding her breath entirely.
“…Go to sleep.”
A fine, silver thread of saliva stretched transparently between them as he drew his hand away.
❖ ❖ ❖
The dawn air hung hot beneath the brilliantly rising sun.
“Whoo! Lady! Today you’re truly on fire!”
“The blade is completely invisible, ma’am!”
A loosely bound straw dummy shook frantically, scattering bits of hay in every direction.
Elio lunged and slashed at the straw dummy without a single pause. At blinding speed, she mercilessly slashed Carlos’s soft lips, stabbed at his masculine Adam’s apple, and repeatedly drove her blade down into his broad chest.
“Lady! You’re a true warrior of the North, ma’am! Come slay the corrupted Evil Dragon with us!”
“Are you coming with us on the monster subjugation, too?”
Though her accuracy was terrible, the squires all gathered around, bursting into laughter at the tiny lady’s lightning-fast flailing.
When the hundredth strike landed, deafening cheers erupted.
And then.
“What kind of swordsmanship is that…”
Sitting at a makeshift table, Toby dropped his small pen and muttered under his breath.
Even if it was a boy’s rapier, anyone would have tired out after swinging it for so long, yet the crazy rabbit wielded the blade without resting. Tripping through erratic footwork, she failed to land a single strike properly.
The more he watched, the more evident it became that she shared nothing in common with Valentin, who was wicked to the core and monstrously strong. With that gently smiling gaze, she only looked like her father; she hadn't inherited an ounce of her parents' martial talent.
Grumbling that teaching her from scratch was going to be a massive pain, Toby pressed down hard with his pen as he wrote the training report on Elio to submit to Carlos.
Noting the unusual weakness in her right arm muscles, he paused mid-sentence and clicked his tongue in exasperation.
“Instead of rushing to set the kid up on matchmaking dates, he should be building up her combat ability first.”
She needed to know how to protect herself, didn't she?
Of course, in Lübeck, where scoundrels preyed on ruined noble ladies, quickly marrying off a pretty, fallen noblewoman was the safest path forward.
At the very least, the Temple only protected noble ladies. One only had to compare the southern region of Lübeck with Cyprus to see that the more conservative a nation was toward women, the lower women's rights fell.
…Still, in the free lands of Schweiz, she could live safely without ever having to marry.
Even though Grita had thoroughly investigated nobles all the way out in the Kingdom of Cyprus to find Aquitaine a match, Carlos had deliberately narrowed the search to the households of his own vassals and juniors residing in Schweiz. Toby thought he could understand the man's underlying motives, yet the thought only made him feel stifled.
Damn it, if he wanted Valentin's daughter by his side that badly, he should just take her as his mistress.
❖ ❖ ❖
Possesses precise knowledge of techniques and obsolete terminology from the Ancient Unified Dynasty Era a thousand years ago.
Claims she learned ancient magic and ancient swordsmanship from an 'Older Sister.' Seems far too elite to be a mere wandering rogue. Identity requires clear verification.
The pages of the densely written log Toby had kept turned one by one in the breeze.
In a villa tucked deepest within the pine forest, a chill wind drifted through the wide-open window, scattering the paper onto the damp floor.
A drop of whiskey spilled alongside it. Gazing out into the dim dawn, Carlos set down Elio’s log. He then picked up the monster movement reports and the Dragon tracking dossier.
“Is she pretty?”
“Very pretty. I do not wish to marry her off.”
“More than me?”
With tired, dry eyes, Carlos looked down at Elio’s log on the floor. Chuckling softly, he drank the whiskey down like water once more.
“Prettier than me?”
“The child is lovely like a white lilac. You, Mother, are like a rose.”
The woman popped a strawberry into Carlos’s mouth.
Juice dripped from the crushed fruit. She picked up another strawberry and placed it into her own mouth.
Silently chewing the crushed berry, Carlos wiped his mother’s hands clean.
Only after finishing the strawberry did the woman smile brightly, using her lipstick to draw a downward line across Carlos’s shirt as if it were a sketchbook.
“Y-Young Duke, let me…”
The moment the maid spoke up, his mother shook her head frantically and began to weep. Thrashing about, she hurled the tray aside.
Dodging the overturned food, the flustered maid bowed her head repeatedly, apologizing over and over. Telling her it was fine and bidding her to leave, Carlos held his mother close, pinning her flailing limbs.
Perhaps because the new maid was still unfamiliar, his mother grew exceptionally sensitive, rejecting every touch that was not his. It was the same ordeal every time they changed attendants.
Even as her mental age regressed and her hallucinations worsened, the haughty vigilance from her days as an imperial princess remained alive. Whenever a stranger lingered near, her cries only grew louder.
Still, he was her son. Whenever he cared for her, she would stop crying and smile.
Just like now.
“Friedrich.”
Though she rarely seemed to recognize him properly.
When was the first time his mother called him by the Emperor’s name? Was it when he was twelve? Carlos could no longer clearly remember his warm mother from the days when her mind had been sound.
“Friedrich. Let’s play with Penelope, too. Shall we call Yunus as well?”
“…You forget me, yet you remember the names of the Emperor and Empress.”
Carlos offered a faint, hollow smile as he held his mother in his arms.
“Friedrich. Don’t hate my little sister. She didn’t mean any harm. She just wanted us all to play together. Shall we call Yunus and make it four?”
His mother curved her long eyes, whispering as if soothing a lover.
“Friedrich. Are you jealous of Duke Schuppenhardt? I told you, I like you. Yunus is just a childhood friend… Don’t be angry.”
Why did she call him by the Emperor’s name?
On his twelfth birthday, beneath heavy snow falling as if to erase the world, he had searched for portraits to see if the Emperor’s youth resembled his own. He remembered sobbing uncontrollably the moment he saw the portrait.
Because he looked so strikingly like him.
Because he could no longer tell if he even existed inside his mother’s mind, feeling as though he had vanished forever.
She still loved lipstick and perfume as much as ever. She could still recite magic formulas with ease. How was it that she had reverted to a time before her son even existed, before she had ever loved his father?
Had the betrayal by the Emperor and her younger sister cut that deeply back then?
“Friedrich… Can’t you buy Penelope a gift, too? My sister feels left out. You, Yunus, Duke Schuppenhardt—all of you only take care of me…”
With a pained smile, Carlos fetched a fresh nightgown and changed his mother out of her damp clothes.
As he combed her hair, she giggled happily.
Was her aversion to others' touch born of that betrayal? Did the memory of being betrayed by the Emperor and the sister she trusted still bring her agony? Whenever she briefly regained her senses and he asked her about it…
His mother would simply laugh it off, saying no, she couldn't even remember. She had always been a cheerful, strong woman.
When on earth are you going to get married? Hurry up and go marry far away.
How long am I supposed to keep living with a grown child?
Be a man and set off on grand adventures far, far away. Settle down in the town you love most, meet a pretty lady, and live happily together, just the two of you.
That’s what being a good son is.
“Friedrich!”
The moment Carlos turned his back to open the window, his mother shrieked in a fit of panic, grabbing him by the waist.
“Friedrich. Is it true? You got Penelope pregnant? You! You got my sister pregnant?!”
Carlos, having stayed awake for three consecutive nights, slowly closed and opened his dry, heavy eyes. He embraced his sick mother as she clung to his feet, crying as if she were being strangled.
Why had the Emperor, who had claimed he could not live without her…
Why had he gotten her one and only twin sister pregnant while still betrothed to his mother? It was a question with no answer.
With practiced familiarity, he rummaged through the drawer and found the sedative.
Clutching her chest in agony as if trying to tear her own heart out, his mother gasped out ragged sobs.
“What about me?! What about my baby?! What is going to happen to our child?!”
Hearing the very words he had already heard hundreds, thousands of times before, Carlos held her trembling body tightly. Forcing open her mouth as she bit her own tongue, he pushed the pill deep down her throat.
“I won’t be the Empress. Friedrich. Marry my sister. I don’t need that damn Empress title. I won’t raise it as your child.”
Sobbing like a broken child, his mother cradled her belly and collapsed flat onto the floor.
“I want to live. Duke Schuppenhardt. I want to live. Please save me and my child. Penelope put a curse on me. M-My sister wants me dead. She’s going to kill me.”
Patting the back of his trembling mother, Carlos sat leaning against the wall.
She wept, begging to live, begging him to save the child in her womb.
Listening to his mother’s faint cries all through the night, he thought of Empress Penelope.
The Empress who demanded he marry Grita in exchange for the cure to his mother's curse. She no longer sent assassins.
The Empress had abandoned the idea of killing him and his mother.
After all this time.
He drank down the whiskey like water once more and lightly tapped his finger.
His unshakable, deep-sunken eyes stared down at the marriage contract with Grita.