Chapter 68
Chapter 68
Translation: godsn
"Leila, you're back now."
Mrs. Mona, who had been pacing in front of the cabin, quickly rushed toward Leila as she returned.
"How did it go? Did you meet with the lawyer? What did they say?"
In response to her rapid-fire questions, Leila could only shake her head slightly.
The servants of Arvis, pitying Bill Remmer, had secretly pooled money for him to meet with a lawyer from a legal firm behind the master family's back. When she had accepted the money with repeated words of gratitude, there had still been a faint glimmer of hope on the child's face—but now, only deep despair remained.
"They say the Dowager is willing to forgive, but Her Grace is being stubborn. Honestly... It wasn't even done on purpose, so you'd think she'd show some leniency."
"Is there any way... any way at all I could meet with Her Grace?"
"I don't know, Leila. That might not be the best approach. Maybe you should try seeing the Duke instead? One of the maids attending the Dowager told me their opinions are so far apart they've decided to leave the final decision to His Grace."
Leila blinked slowly several times before suddenly swaying as dizziness washed over her. Mrs. Mona quickly steadied her and helped her inside the cabin.
"At least there's that silver lining. In matters like these, the Duke tends to be more lenient than either of the ladies. So let's hold onto hope a little longer, Leila."
After seating Leila in a chair by the fireplace, Mrs. Mona comforted her with gentle pats on her trembling, slender shoulders.
"At this rate, you'll collapse before Mr. Remmer does. You need to eat something. I brought some of your favorites."
"Thank you, ma'am. I'll... I'll eat a little later."
Mrs. Mona looked down at Leila, who was murmuring like someone in a daze, heaved several more sighs, and then left the cabin. As the sound of the door closing reached her, Leila raised her hands and covered her face.
The lawyer she met at the firm had given her even more despairing answers than the constable. If she was lucky, she might avoid prison time, but litigation would inevitably require a long period and substantial costs. Moreover, since she couldn't escape liability for damages anyway, it would be foolish to engage in a legal battle with the ducal family.
'Seeking clemency is your best option.'
In the end, that was all the lawyer could offer. The clemency of the Herhardt family. No—now it would be the Duke's clemency.
It had already been three days since she met that man. She had struggled desperately, unable to accept his absurd proposal, but now she felt as though she had been thrown right back before the Duke again.
Gnawing anxiously at her lip, Leila rose and headed to the kitchen. She didn't even have the energy to boil water for tea, so she took a few sips of cold water instead. After days without proper food or sleep, her entire body felt hollowed out.
But Uncle must be suffering far more.
The image of Bill Remmer's face, which seemed to have aged drastically in just a few days, rose in her mind, and a sharp pain stabbed through her chest as if something were clawing at her heart.
Leila slumped listlessly at the edge of the table. The loneliness of being left alone—after Kyle's departure, after Uncle Bill's imprisonment—was unbearable.
She couldn't go on like this. So she had to save Uncle Bill, no matter what. But the only path left was accepting the Duke's proposal. No matter what she tried, that conclusion remained unchanged.
Gritting her teeth, she tried to stand up, but she couldn't take a single step before collapsing back into her seat. As the memory of the Duke's gaze upon her resurfaced, shame sent violent tremors through her entire body.
If only it had been the crazed look of lust, the humiliation wouldn't have been this crushing.
In that moment, the Duke had been utterly composed, even seeming somewhat amused. Leila knew that face all too well. It was the exact expression he wore when enjoying a hunt purely for sport, or when tormenting Leila to the point of tears.
After several failed attempts to rise, Leila collapsed face-first onto the table. No more tears came now. Instead, only ragged breaths spilled out like sobs.
To others, it might seem like nothing, but to Leila, this life was precious beyond measure. She had protected and nurtured it with all her might. She wanted to keep living that way—diligently, without shame.
But she couldn't simply let this life be trampled underfoot by that man's petty desires and whims.
Leila steeled her resolve.
But then—what about Bill?
That name alone unraveled everything.
Darkness pressed down on her slender back like a physical weight. For a long time, Leila couldn't lift her head.
By the time she finished signing the last document, night had deepened considerably.
"You may retire first."
Matthias issued the brief command to his waiting attendant.
As the man quietly withdrew with the documents in hand, Matthias was left alone in the annex. Though he'd always spent much time here, his stays had grown longer recently since the main residence lacked electricity. Of course, Matthias readily acknowledged that wasn't the only reason.
Tonight, Leila would come.
The vague premonition took hold. After days of struggling to find another solution, she must have realized by now—what her only remaining path was.
On the day Bill Remmer's mistake spiraled into an irreparable disaster, when Matthias had locked eyes with Leila as she crumpled to the ground crying for the arrested man, he'd known. Known exactly how to crush the wings of that beautiful bird trying to flee.
Having realized, he'd pursued. That was all.
Of course, he knew this wasn't the ideal method to obtain his ultimate desire. But first, he had to seize her. To prevent escape. To make her live by his side. Even if the steps were out of order, even if it meant taking the longest possible detour, he would inevitably find his way to that coveted joy.
Matthias reached out and opened the cigarette case at the table's edge. Placing an unlit cigarette between his lips, he didn't light it.
Knock knock knock.
A faint rapping came at the door—weak, hesitant knocks betraying reluctance.
After a moment, Matthias tossed the still-unlit cigarette into the ashtray and rose slowly from the sofa. He remained standing there until the restless throbbing in his throat subsided before finally stepping forward.
When he opened the front door, a frigid river wind rushed in. And within that wind—Leila's face, exactly as Matthias had anticipated.
The two simply stared at each other without speaking. Were it not for their hair and clothes fluttering in the wind, one might have thought time had frozen completely.
Matthias moved first. He took a light step back, clearing the way for Leila to enter. On this unusually bitter winter night, the coatless woman stepped trembling over the threshold, her face deathly pale.
The sound of the door closing and locking reverberated through the frozen air.
Leila came to a halt in the very spot where, days ago, she had first pleaded with the Duke for Uncle Bill's leniency. Her posture was identical to that day, but her expression was markedly different. Gone was the face filled with naive trust and hope—only resignation and fear remained. Yet, as if willingly honoring the woman still clinging to meaningless attachments, Matthias settled onto the sofa, crossing his legs just as he had that day.
"To Your Grace... I am nothing, am I?"
After several deep breaths, the words she finally managed to utter were so hollow that Matthias couldn't help but laugh.
"So?"
"If you were to stain your life for the sake of a woman who is nothing... for the sake of a fleeting desire for her... wouldn't that be a loss even for Your Grace?"
A faint light flickered in Leila's eyes, which had been as dark as unlit windows.
"So please... tell me another condition. Then I'll do anything. Anything at all, Your Grace. I mean it."
"Leila."
Matthias's brow, which had momentarily furrowed, soon twisted into a sneer.
"There's a castle our family owns in the resort town south of Berg."
At his abrupt remark, Leila's gaze wavered.
"It's quite beautiful—one of the most renowned in the empire. My grandfather purchased it. For his mistress. She lived there, cherished, until the day she passed."
"Your Grace..."
"My father was an avid music lover. Perhaps that's why he kept women involved in music close. The one who remained by his side the longest was a singer of great renown. Even my mother was quite fond of her. Her skill was truly exceptional."
Matthias lifted his eyes from his reverie and looked at Leila.
"Shall I tell you? What their reputations were like."
His tone, deceptively gentle, stripped Leila of her last shred of resolve. She didn't need an explanation—she already knew all too well. How could she not? Those illustrious names, still revered by the entire city even after their deaths.
"I suppose that's enough concern on my behalf. So then, what's your answer?"
Matthias's gaze, having traveled over her rapidly rising chest and slender throat, settled on Leila's vacant eyes.
"J-just one night... would that suffice?"
Though she turned her head several times to glance behind her, Leila eventually looked back at Matthias.
This was what she had resolved to do the moment she decided to come here. Still, she had wanted to cling to even the faintest possibility. To him, Leila Lewellin might be a worthless existence, but to herself, her life was precious and something to be proud of.
But it seems I can't even be a stain on your life.
Realizing this, Leila's heart grew strangely calm.
She told herself it was no different from tripping or falling from a tree—just a bit of bad luck that the wound ran deeper. But wounds heal eventually, and she could always shake herself off, stand tall, and walk forward. As many times as needed.
As she steeled herself over and over, the corner of Matthias's mouth twitched upward.
"I told you, Leila. I don't make losing deals. Do you really think you're worth enough to compensate for all that loss with just one night?"
"Then... surely you don't mean to... truly make me your mistress?"
Matthias didn't answer. He simply stared at her, unblinking.
Unable to bear it any longer, Leila turned away. But she couldn't take more than a few steps before stopping short.
If she left the annex now, her only hope would vanish entirely. Uncle Bill would remain imprisoned, the agonizing lawsuit would drag on, and even if he were eventually released, he could never return to his former life. Never again.
Clenching her teeth, Leila turned back around. As if he had anticipated this very moment, the Duke simply lounged against the sofa, watching her with leisurely indifference.
Of course. This is who you truly are. The kind of man who breaks what he desires just to possess it. Without a shred of remorse. For amusement. And then discards it. Just like those bloodied birds you shoot down for sport—left to die as you walk away without a second thought. Just like them, I'm nothing to you.
Matthias met her furious, reddened glare with a smirk, then rose to his feet with a soft chuckle. Trapped between the urge to flee and the impossibility of surrender, Leila sank weakly to the floor. Without a trace of surprise or hesitation, he knelt before her on one knee.
"......!"
When his fingers casually undid the first button of her blouse, she reflexively clutched the fabric and recoiled.
"Leila."
His voice was chillingly low, yet the breath that brushed her cheek was scorching.
"You have to." No matter what.
His fingers trailed lightly over the back of her hand—still gripping her blouse—before he smiled. Then, in the next instant, those same fingers seized her chin painfully tight.
"If you refuse, the door is right there."
He forced her head to turn, making her stare at the parlor's exit. Then, with deliberate slowness, he released her, as if to say the choice was entirely hers. More than anything, this pretense of freedom made her skin crawl.
You back me into a corner, then act as if you're granting me a choice? How vile. How cruel, to trample over my heart like this.
"I'll never forgive you for this," Leila whispered, her voice thick with tears, as she let go of her blouse in defeat.
"Suit yourself."
Matthias snickered, his fingers closing over the fabric she had released. With a sharp tug, buttons scattered across the hardwood and carpet.
The moment her body hit the floor, shoved down by his force, she heard his voice, soft and intimate against her ear.
"I'll be waiting, Leila."
She wanted to curse him, but he gave her no chance. By the time she realized what was happening, his lips had already claimed hers.
In an instant, his tongue coiled around hers, their ragged breaths mingling. Struggling was futile. The oppressive weight of his body pinning her down was incomparable to before.
The wet, greedy sounds of his mouth devouring hers. The slick trail of saliva slipping from her parted lips, dripping down her chin. The rough heat of his large hands yanking at her stockings, tearing them free from her garters. The mingling of their panting breaths and stifled moans shattered the silence of the deep night. All the while, Matthias forced her knees apart with sheer strength, settling between them. Her skirt and undergarments, stripped away in one motion, lay discarded in disarray on the carpet.
"Lovely."
Propping himself up, Matthias gazed down at her—like an artist admiring his own creation.