Chapter 45
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 45
“……”
Oscar’s languid gaze, which had been drifting about as he smoked, suddenly fixed on something. The listless aura around him vanished, replaced by the sharp focus of a predator that had just spotted its prey. He seemed to stop breathing altogether.
While Simon recognized it as a dangerous sign, the man who had arranged the entertainment saw it as an excellent one.
See? I told you, no man can resist.
He knew with uncanny accuracy exactly where Oscar’s gaze had landed. He had expected the marquis to prefer a glamorous beauty, but his eyes were locked on the plainest, most unremarkable woman he had brought. No matter. The man beamed, giving the prostitute who had captured Oscar’s attention a gentle push on the back.
“Tonight is all yours, Your Excellency. If the night proves too short, I will find a way to extend it for you. I pray you will be satisfied.”
The woman, pushed forward, blushed.
As Oscar, who had been staring intently at her, brought the cigarette to his lips, Simon rose to his feet.
“I will clear the room, Your Excellency.”
He was about to snarl at the man for his presumption and dismiss the women.
“That’s enough, Simon.”
“……?”
Puzzled, Simon turned. Oscar was leaning back in the armchair, a lazy smile playing on his lips. Then, as if weary of it all, he muttered, “I suppose it’s about time I really let loose.”
A look of suspicion crossed Simon’s face, but his master was not one to care for the thoughts of others.
“Then please, have a wonderful time, Your Excellency!”
The man who had brought the women was overjoyed. He quickly led the others out, at which point Simon had no choice but to depart as well.
And so, the marquis and the prostitute were left alone in the spacious room.
The woman, her wavy brown hair cascading down to her waist, timidly lifted her eyes to look at the marquis.
The Marquis Reinhardt she had only heard about was more than she could have ever imagined. Photographs didn’t capture even half of the real man. It wasn’t just his features; it was a unique aura that a picture could never convey.
He sat alone, occupying the vast armchair, sprawled dissolutely with his head tilted back. The way he stared at the ceiling with languid eyes, slowly puffing on his cigarette, made him look bored—or perhaps like he was enduring something.
Just then, the marquis, who had been gazing at the ceiling, lowered his eyes to stare at her.
“What are you just standing there for? You have a job to do, don't you?”
His deep, low voice felt as if it were licking her ear. Mesmerized, she approached him. Each step felt like walking toward a black sea of unknowable depth. Though she was certain death awaited her if she fell in, something about the marquis made it impossible to look away.
His jawline, sharp as if carved by a chisel; his high-bridged nose; and his full, strangely sensual lips, combined with his loosened shirt and disheveled hair, exuded an utterly carnal atmosphere.
In contrast, his thick, veined neck, his prominent Adam’s apple, and the firm muscles visible beneath his shirt were so primal she could almost smell the faint scent of his sweat.
Oscar.
She sensed an indescribable contradiction in him, and that contradiction made him perfect.
Tonight, of all the women here, I will be the one to hold this man.
A chilling thrill coursed through her, and a fire ignited deep in her belly.
She stopped just a step away from him.
Their eyes met.
The moment she looked directly into his astonishingly clear and chillingly blue eyes, she felt something cold slide down her spine.
She flinched and lowered her head, a reflexive action that bypassed thought. Her brown hair spilled forward, covering her shoulders.
It was then that Oscar, who had been watching her with cold, merciless eyes, rose from his seat.
He rose without a sound, without a tremor, like a rising shadow. He approached the woman, who seemed to shrink back, ready to retreat. Then, like a predator sinking its teeth into the nape of its prey, he seized the back of her head and tilted his own.
The woman, her hair caught in Oscar’s grip, thought their lips were about to meet. She thought she would be devoured whole by this astonishingly sensual and dangerous man.
“……”
“……”
But the man, who seemed ready to crush his lips against hers at any moment, stopped just as their noses brushed.
An alluring, wild scent pierced her senses. The faint warmth made her burn with impatience. She tried to move her face closer, but he pulled away.
Oscar tilted his head back and looked up at the ceiling. His exposed Adam’s apple bobbed once, and he let out a long, slow breath, followed by a laugh that sounded utterly incredulous.
The woman was burning with frustration.
“Your Excellency?” she called out in a thin voice.
Oscar lowered his head from the ceiling. Staring at her with his icy blue eyes, he untangled his hand from her brown hair. He cupped her chin, pressing his thumb against her lips and rubbing them. Aren’t all lips pretty much the same? he thought. Just a thin, red line at the border between skin and membrane.
The woman blinked, looking up at Oscar. It was a shame the kiss hadn't followed immediately, but just having this terrifyingly captivating man’s gaze linger on her lips was enough to make her feel dazed.
She closed her eyes, covered the tip of his thumb with her upper lip, and bit down gently. She rubbed his fingertip with her soft lips, making a wet, suggestive sound.
A sound meant to make him want to devour her lips that instant, to make him want to replace his finger with something else.
The sound echoed in the still room.
Oscar watched coolly as she caressed his finger with her lips. A sordid pleasure—a tangle of biting and licking—played across his fingertip. And he allowed it.
Why?
What am I hoping to see?
But as the prostitute’s caresses grew more intense, the faint, insincere smile on his lips faded, replaced by a cold line. He felt the buzz from the several bottles of liquor he had downed evaporate.
Just as the woman was about to swallow his finger whole, it was suddenly pulled away. She opened her eyes. He’s going to lay me down now, she thought. He’ll rip my clothes off and pounce.
As a thrill shot through her, the man walked past. She turned, following him in a daze, but his next action was completely different from what she had expected.
Oscar walked past her, picked up a water pitcher from the table, and poured its contents over the hand she had touched. Then, after drying it with a towel set on the side of the table, he lit a cigarette.
His clothes were still carelessly open as he swept his hair back, and his posture as he smoked was as dissolute as his attire. But his half-lidded eyes were so cold that the woman couldn't help but ask.
“Your Excellency, did I… do something wrong?”
The tip of the cigarette glowed red as he took a deep drag. Smoke billowed from his lips, and through the haze, his icy blue eyes turned to her.
The moment she saw those frigid eyes, she realized he had not been aroused by her for even a single second.
Averting his gaze from her, Oscar tossed the towel he was holding onto the table and strolled toward the door.
“I have a weak stomach.”
“……”
“Take the money.”
With those final words, he opened the door and left.
The Wolves waiting outside stirred at their master’s sudden appearance. Simon, having been summoned, immediately fell in behind Oscar. The man who had arranged the women also came running, but by then, Oscar had already left the hotel lobby.
“The crowd is immense, Your Excellency. I have prepared an alternate route. I will escort you.”
Today was a festival day, and every corner of Vies was packed with people. With Saint Roel Cathedral not far away, the front of the hotel was also a sea of humanity. The sidewalks were full of people, and the roads were full of carriages.
Oscar, quietly smoking his cigarette and glancing between the crowd and the carriages, took the jacket Simon offered him.
“It’s not far. Let’s just walk.”
And with that, he started walking. Despite his light tone and casual actions, Oscar, cloaked in the encroaching darkness, was as silent and eerie as a grim reaper on his way to deliver a death sentence.
Simon ordered the waiting Wolves to follow, and they cleared a path for their master. No one dared to question his intentions, let alone speak to him.
With a cigarette between his lips and one hand thrust into his pocket, Oscar strode unhesitatingly out of the hotel and onto the gridlocked road.
The meaningless complaints, the snorting of horses, the gruff voices of irritated coachmen, the flickering of carriage lanterns—none of it registered in Oscar’s mind.
If it passed by, so be it. If it was in his way, he would simply remove it.
Oscar took a drag from his cigarette. Even between the carriages, the cloying scent of perfume and powder hung heavy in the air.
The mere rumor that the Marchioness of Reinhardt had worn a certain dress or used a particular perfume was enough for it to sell out completely, sometimes even making headlines. Half the population of East Norfolk used the same perfumes, wore similar dresses, bought the same cosmetics. He had started smoking because the cigarette smoke was the only thing that could mask that cloying scent.
Reaching the opposite sidewalk, which was relatively deserted, Oscar came to a stop, as still as a pool of stagnant water, and took a breath.