Chapter 85
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 85
Oscar gazed at the nobles seated in long rows extending from the King's throne. Some read documents with cigarettes clamped between their lips, some conversed in hushed tones, and others simply dozed off. All the while, royal servants bustled about among them.
Meanwhile, agenda items that hardly seemed to justify gathering so many people were tossed back and forth across the long table.
Oscar shifted, recrossing his legs, and lowered his gaze to the watch in his palm. Its hands moved at an agonizingly slow pace.
Tick, tock.
The second hand crept forward with frustrating slowness.
His grip tightened around the watch.
The Backup Team reports that Count Jerome's daughter has taken the target to her exhibition. Abel is also inside the hall, but with nobles surrounding the target, getting close won't be easy.
Oscar inhaled deeply, then let out a long, slow breath. His broad chest rose and fell in a heavy rhythm.
When he looked up again, the nobles still wore their bored expressions. The servants still hovered. Only the angle of the sunlight filtering through the windows had changed.
Someone made an idle remark in his direction.
Oscar smiled and replied. A few nearby nobles cast him secretive glances, careful to stay out of the King's line of sight. Oscar merely let out a dry chuckle.
Hidden beneath the table, his hand still clutched the watch. Tracing the round glass face with his thumb, Oscar lowered his eyes again.
Tick, tock.
The second hand was still crawling along.
An expressionless face—his own—was reflected on the clear glass surface.
Given the venue, her life shouldn't be in danger. I will instruct him to keep a low profile and slip out when the opportunity arises.
Right. That was the right call. Simon's judgment was rational.
Oscar lifted his head and swept back a lock of hair that had fallen into his eyes.
The slanting rays of the setting sun pierced his vision, but he didn't even notice the glare.
Another person struck up a pointless conversation. Oscar replied with a habitual smile, as natural as lighting a cigarette, and the man seemed satisfied.
“When are you coming?”
The voice echoed in his mind without warning, and his grip on the watch tightened. Though his fist was clenched so hard that veins bulged on the back of his hand, Oscar's face remained relaxed, wearing an easy smile.
Those damn words.
He tried to push the image of the woman out of his mind—the way she had stood with her head held high among the bowing wolves. But her pale complexion and defiant posture refused to be forgotten.
“She was crying her eyes out, you know?”
She must have gone back to her room and cried.
Oscar pulled out another cigarette and placed it between his lips. It was the last one in his case. But damn it, he couldn't taste a thing.
He had kept her up all night, deliberately ensuring she wouldn't have the energy to wander around today.
“Ah... mnh...”
Her whimpers seemed to melt and cling to his memory. Instantly, the sensation of thrusting inside her, of possessing her all night, spread from his lower abdomen throughout his entire body. The tight, red flesh that had clamped down on his shaft. Even her reaction when he’d pressed his fingertips against that hot, wet core was vividly, irritatingly clear.
Oscar took a deep drag of the tasteless cigarette and looked at his watch again.
Tick, tock.
They say there are nobles right next to the target.
Oscar smiled faintly. Irritated by the tense, impatient face reflected on the glass, he flipped the watch over, banishing the lingering image of the woman along with it.
Outside the window, the sun was slowly sinking.
Even so, Marquis Reinhardt maintained his relaxed demeanor, asserting his presence by interjecting or receding at precisely the right moments. He only occasionally glanced under the table, but during a meeting this long, anyone would do as much.
Tick, tock.
The grueling meeting finally came to an end only when the sun dipped below the horizon, dyeing the world in shades of crimson.
Once the King made his exit, the nobles began to rise one by one. As they did, they stole glances at Oscar, who was rarely seen in public. An opportunity to exchange even a single word with him was too valuable to pass up.
“It has been a while, Marquis. I heard you've connected the railway all the way to North Norfolk. Truly remarkable.”
“And that’s not all! I hear you've already signed contracts for three mines in Felder. To expand beyond the continent and into Felder is truly magnificent.”
“I was merely lucky,” Oscar replied smoothly.
Walking with his hands shoved casually in his pockets, he listened as the nobles whispered conspiratorially.
“Marquis, if you have no special plans today, why don't you join us for dinner?”
The other nobles, their ears perked, quickly gauged Oscar's reaction. If he agreed, they were all prepared to join the gathering on the spot.
His relaxed attitude heightened their expectations, but he remained silent for several more steps.
“Marquis?” the man prompted again.
Only then did Oscar finally open his mouth.
“My apologies, My Lord. I was considering if I could postpone my prior engagement, but it seems that won't be possible.”
Being rejected in front of so many watchful eyes made the man's face stiffen. Oscar pulled a hand from his pocket and offered a polite bow.
“I will be sure to host you next time.”
At his courteous gesture, the elder's displeased expression softened slightly.
“A pity, but what can be done? Very well.”
Oscar continued to exchange pleasantries as he made his way out of the building.
“Then, we must meet next time.”
“Yes, of course.”
After bidding them a warm farewell, Oscar turned toward his carriage.
The playful curve of his eyes vanished instantly. With every step, the thick layers of smiles and pretense fell away, dropping to the ground behind him.
His prediction that this would be a grueling day had proven sickeningly accurate.
Tick, tock.
The sound of the second hand, a sound that should have been inaudible, rang out with irritating clarity. All day long, the only thing echoing in his ears was that damn ticking.
Leopold's words, the endless chatter of the nobles, the nonsense he himself had spouted in response—of the countless words that had passed through his ears and from his lips, not a single one remained.
The moment he climbed into the carriage, the face of that damn woman flashed in his mind before he could even resist.
“Fuck...”
Squeezing his eyes shut, Oscar slammed the back of his head against the headrest.
He had counted every single second of that agonizingly long meeting. He had been forced to endure every excruciating moment of a session that was already tedious enough.
The carriage set off.
He could sense Simon, sitting opposite him, holding his breath and opening his mouth to speak several times before thinking better of it.
“If you have something to say, spit it out,” Oscar snarled. “Don't just sit there gaping like a fool.”
“……”
Oscar opened his eyes, his head still resting against the carriage wall. He watched Simon’s face, repeatedly illuminated by passing gas lamps before sinking back into shadow.
“Is she still there?” he asked bluntly.
Though the question lacked a subject, Simon understood immediately. He answered quickly, aware of his master's frayed patience.
“They say she likely won't be able to leave until the exhibition is over.”
Unbelievable.
Slouching back in his seat, Oscar let out a languid laugh.
“Did she manage to cause trouble already?”
“It is more that Count Jerome's daughter...”
“Ah,” Oscar cut him off. “So she's become Sabine's new toy.”
He muttered the words with a low chuckle, staring out the window. The dark glass reflected a man with a cruel expression.
A toy.
“Fuck, a toy...” he cursed under his breath.
Blood was certainly thicker than water.
“If she wants to be played with, then we might as well play.”
It seemed the half-siblings, despite having different fathers, shared the exact same instinct: that it would be amusing to play with that fragile, tearful woman. And the nobles who trailed after Sabine like shadows would undoubtedly be itching to get their hands on her now that she was Sabine's plaything. Watching them, his half-sister would be busy converting her inferiority complex into a sense of superiority. Pathetic.
Tick, tock.
He could almost feel the vibration of the second hand against his skin. The tedious meeting was over, but the sound persisted. He squeezed the watch in his fist with all his might.
Suddenly, he remembered the strangely red ribbon that had refused to come off even during their night-long lovemaking. That ribbon, which had looked like a red flower blooming against her pale spine, would probably be wrapped around the fingers of Sabine's lackeys by now.
“Heh, heh...”
The idle fools trailing behind Sabine would have recognized her wretched state at a glance—a woman with absolutely no one to rely on in this world.
Wretched, yet mysterious.
Just like that red ribbon, barely clinging to the ends of her disheveled hair.
It would make them want to touch her. To mess with her.
“Ah... mnh.”
Perhaps they wanted to see her break completely under their touch.
His dry laughter died away.
The debaucherous games of those libertines played out before his eyes. Those bastards, crowding around her to block her from view, taking turns touching her.
“Ah...!”
They would laugh at her struggles, wrapping that mysterious ribbon around their fingertips as she squirmed.
Crack!
The object in his hand shattered. When he pulled his hand from his pocket, he saw the ruined watch and a palm already bleeding from the shards of glass.
“...Your Excellency!” Simon cried out, immediately offering a handkerchief.
Oscar didn't even think to wipe away the blood, merely staring at his bleeding palm. Even now, the image of that red ribbon wrapped around the hands of those wretched bastards flashed in his mind. He was truly going mad.