Chapter 71
Chapter 71
Translation: godsn
Matthias took a leisurely step back, just as he had the night before, while Leila crossed the threshold with trembling legs. The only difference was that this time, Leila took the lead. Stomping down the hallway, she headed not toward the parlor but in the direction of the bedchambers.
Rather than questioning her, Matthias obediently followed behind Leila. A flicker of anticipation rose within him—this woman, who always delighted him with her slight audacity, might just surprise him again today. And as always, Leila lived up to that expectation.
Grasping the doorknob, she hesitated for the briefest moment before throwing the bedroom door wide open. Matthias, who had been following a few paces behind, furrowed his brows.
Suppressing the urge to call out her name, Matthias silently stepped into the bedroom. His curiosity was beginning to stir. Just how far would the pleasure of Leila Lewellin's audacity take him today?
As if granting her permission to do as she pleased, Matthias leaned his back against the closed door, arms loosely folded. Pausing in the center of the room to catch her breath, Leila then moved toward the bed.
First, she removed her glasses and placed them on the nightstand. Next came her scarf, coat, and gloves.
Since I've done my part, now it's your turn to do yours.
That single, solitary sentence was all the Duke's letter had contained today. Role. The sheer insult of what that word implied had left Leila frozen in place for a long moment.
"If you're going to be a mistress, then act like one, Leila."
The memory of those cruel words, spoken with a smile as vicious as a cat toying with a cornered mouse, resurfaced, and Leila's legs gave out beneath her. She crumpled to the floor.
She had thought she'd lost half her consciousness, yet the memories that followed returned with horrifying clarity. How excruciating and humiliating it had been. And how utterly despairing it was to realize her own body no longer obeyed her will.
Even without any knowledge of such matters, she knew what the Duke had done to her was far from an act of love. It wasn't even accurate to call it bestial—because it wasn't merely driven by primal desire.
"It's entertaining when you cry. It's fun to watch you beg."
Sitting on the floor, buffeted by the winter wind pouring through the open window, Leila suddenly recalled those words the Duke had spat out on a beautiful summer night last year.
"So go on, Leila. Cry. Beg if you want."
Even as he issued that merciless command, the Duke had been smiling.
Because it's entertaining and fun. Yes. That must be the only reason. Like a hunter reveling in his prey, that's how he saw her—...
When the answer finally struck her, a hollow laugh escaped her lips, almost like a sob. That's all it was. The thought of how often she had searched his eyes, wondering if there might be something more, filled her with unbearable self-loathing.
"Leila!"
At the sound of Uncle Bill calling her name, Leila barely managed to pull herself up. She closed the window, drew the curtains, and vigorously rubbed her reddened eyes with her sleeve before turning around. And she made a decision.
I won't beg or cry in front of you ever again. I won't give you even a shred of amusement or pleasure. I'll make sure you discard me as soon as possible.
Repeating that vow in her mind, Leila removed her blouse, skirt, and shoes one by one. It took far more courage to strip off her undergarments with her own hands, but in the end, she did it. It was almost laughable to feel shy about baring her body now, after everything the Duke had done to her. More than anything, Leila didn't want to be violated as wretchedly as she had been on that first night. If it came to that, she'd rather make the choice herself.
"Hah..."
Matthias let out an exasperated sigh as he stared at the half-naked Leila.
Leila, who had been covering her exposed chest with her arms, slowly lowered them and began removing the remaining undergarments one by one. When she finally peeled off her stockings, her completely bare body was laid bare before his eyes.
Had she lost her mind?
The thought crossed his mind with surprising seriousness. It was the only explanation that made any sense.
After gathering her discarded clothes and placing them on the chair beside the bed, Leila pulled out the pins that had been holding up her hair. The smooth cascade of golden locks tumbled down her nape and shoulders, soon becoming a shimmering wave that covered her pale back.
Despite her straight and calm gaze, Matthias's breathing was subtly uneven. As she brushed back the hair that had fallen over her forehead with a hand that had been clenched tightly, Leila sat primly at the edge of the bed. The boldness with which she had been carrying out this insane act had vanished, leaving her entire body trembling faintly.
Matthias slowly approached her. Leila, unable to find a place to rest her eyes, eventually lowered them to stare at her own toes.
"What do you think you're doing?"
He sneered as he gripped her chin, tilting it upward with just enough force to force her eyes to meet his.
"...Fulfilling my role."
Her tone was sharp, but her voice trembled so much that it held no threat.
"And what exactly is your role?"
Matthias's eyes narrowed with growing amusement. Despite the fear that had rendered her speechless moments ago, Leila boldly retorted.
"You already know."
Though she hunched her shoulders slightly, she didn't avert her gaze from his.
"Because you decided it, Duke."
His eyes, following the rapid rise and fall of her chest as she struggled to breathe, eventually landed on her hands, neatly folded on her lap.
Playing the modest lady while sitting there completely naked.
Even as he scoffed at the absurdity of it, Matthias's gaze continued to roam over Leila. When their eyes met again, a dry, hollow laugh escaped him.
Is this how it feels to buy a woman with money—this filthy?
Once the laughter faded, his eyes were left with nothing but a chilling glint.
Slowly blinking his eyes open, Matthias stroked Leila's hair as if praising a well-behaved child. The touch was gentle, almost languid, and the smile that curled his lips was the same.
The very moment Leila sensed something ominous, the hand that had been caressing her hair suddenly seized her throat in a vice-like grip. Matthias shoved her down onto the bed, pinning her beneath him.
As he climbed atop the woman whose neck he wanted to crush, Matthias let out a quiet laugh. The mirror hanging above the pristine white marble fireplace mantle reflected his image perfectly.
In the place where Matthias von Herhardt—who had lived days of perfect tranquility—once stood, there was now only a man twisted by a desire he had never known before.
Matthias only rose from the bed once Leila's ragged breathing had steadied. Exhausted and collapsed face-down, Leila could only perceive his departure by the faintest shift in the air.
Thank God.
The first thought that came to her was this:
It's really over now. Thank goodness. Truly, thank goodness.
Afraid of provoking that man again, Leila waited as still as death. Clutching the crumpled sheets in a tight fist, curling her body into a small ball—just praying the Duke would leave quickly. As expected, when the sound of his footsteps grew distant, a thin sigh of relief escaped her. If he'd done that even once more, she felt her body might have shattered completely.
But had she let her guard down too soon? The Duke's footsteps, which had grown quite distant, began drawing near again. Leila's knuckles turned white as she gripped the sheets. Though she could have lifted her head to assess the situation, the thought of meeting his eyes was utterly unbearable to her.
Trapped between paralysis and panic, reduced to foolishly mouthing prayers, she felt the Duke—now fully dressed—stroke her hair. He tugged playfully at a strand, combed through it with his fingers, and then she heard him chuckle softly.
"You did well, Leila."
He whispered it lowly, his head bowed. And as his hand caressed her hair once more, the humiliation of feeling reduced to nothing more than a woman selling her body made Leila's hands tremble faintly, buzzing with suppressed rage.
Don't cry.
Leila clung to that single vow. She hadn't cried during that long, brutal act. She couldn't possibly shed tears now.
Before long, the sound of the bedroom door closing reached her ears. Soon after, she heard the annex's front door open and shut as well. It seemed the Duke had truly left.
Only then did Leila push herself up. When she rubbed her swollen lips, a faint smear of blood came away. It stung, but the wound wasn't serious.
Carefully stepping down from the bed, her bare feet meeting the floor, Leila instinctively turned her gaze—and found herself staring back. It took her a moment to realize it was her own reflection in the mirror hanging above the mantelpiece.
Despite her urge to look away, Leila's eyes remained fixed on the mirror in a daze. It was nothing. Just some meaningless act with a meaningless man. Her mind understood that, yet the pain lingering in her body refused to fade so easily.
Seeing no way to dress herself in this state, Leila retrieved the handkerchief tucked in her coat pocket and began wiping her ruined body. Several times, she had to pause, gasping for breath—but she never cried. She took deep comfort in that fact.
On the path from the empty annex back to her cabin, Leila walked only in the shadows, avoiding the bright moonlight. Occasionally, she'd find a pebble or hollow acorn shell and kick it aside with a careless thud—as if to say it was nothing, just some trivial venting. As if such small acts of defiance could make it all forgettable.
My beloved Leila.
That damned letter resurfaced in her mind the moment she slipped quietly into her room upon reaching the cabin. Leila found the last remaining letter—the one she couldn't bring herself to burn with all the others—clutched it in her hand, and leaned back against her bed.
My beloved Leila.
Will you marry me?
Another proposal, you might say. It may sound like some foolish joke, but this is truer than all the countless proposals I've made to you before combined.
Grandfather left me a separate inheritance. After next spring, once my birthday passes, I'll gain the right to use that fortune as I please. It's not an enormous sum, but enough to buy a small house near the university and see us both through our studies. If rushing into marriage troubles you, I'm perfectly fine waiting until graduation. As long as I can be with you.
"Leila, come with me to Latz. Even if you have to retake the entrance exams, I know you'll pass. Then we can study together. Do you remember, Leila? All those happy conversations we shared since we were children. About how I'd become a doctor, and you'd become an ornithologist, living wonderful lives together. I still dream of that day. And in that future, you're always there. My precious friend and lover, in that future you'll be my wife and the mother of my children. My beloved Leila."
"I love my parents, and I know how deeply they love me too. That will never change. But Leila, that doesn't mean I can force myself down a path where I'll never find happiness. What Mother considers happiness isn't mine. That's her vanity, not my joy."
"I hope with time Mother might truly accept you, but if that never happens, then so be it. This isn't about abandoning my family for you. This is about me choosing my own happiness."
"So Leila, will you be my happiness?"
"Of course, the me right now can't promise you grand things. Without my parents' shadow, I'm still just an insignificant existence. But this much I can promise with confidence: I'll love you like you're my whole world. I'll cherish you. I'll never hurt you, Leila."
"Please, forget everything else and just listen to your heart. If your heart feels the same as mine, Leila, tell me. I'll come for you. Let's leave together. Somewhere we can both be happy."
Until the faint light of dawn crept in, Leila read and reread the letter. Each time she imagined the future she might have had with Kyle, the nightmares the Duke had given her rose unbidden in her mind.
When she heard Bill Remmer stirring awake, Leila finally rose from bed. She tenderly stroked the precious letter one last time before tossing it into the corner stove.
The letter soon turned to ash and vanished.
The cake Hessen had prepared in the annex remained untouched, exactly as it had been left.
Though it was foolish to bother his master with such trivial matters, Hessen still couldn't bring himself to simply discard it. He vaguely understood why the Duke had specifically ordered this cake from the hotel tearoom in town despite having skilled chefs at Arvis. Especially since the Duke rarely indulged in such sweet things. This dessert clearly hadn't been prepared for himself.
After taking several deep breaths to steady himself, Hessen entered the Duke's bedroom. His master received his report as usual, then picked up the delivered newspaper.
"Shall I have the cake prepared again, my lord?"
At Hessen's careful question, the Duke slowly lifted his gaze.
"No. It's fine."
His eyes, which had been staring into space, soon returned to the newspaper.
"Then what shall be done with the remaining cake...?"
Knowing it was a foolish question, Hessen cautiously broached the subject. The Duke turned a page of the newspaper and replied indifferently.
"Throw it away."