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Chapter 3
Naturally, the Peyros mansion was in an uproar.
After all, the noble Duke had returned with a shabby-looking woman cradled in his arms.
“Master! This lady is….”
“She’s an honored guest. See that she’s treated with nothing lacking.”
Seeing the shocked eyes of the old butler and the servants, El quickly buried her face into Caron’s chest.
The fabric of his shirt against her cheek was soft—softer than anything El had ever touched in her life.
“El. I’m the master of this house. No one will dare treat you carelessly here. Rest well and come down later.”
“…Yes. I will.”
Still shrinking back, El followed the maids upstairs, while Caron went to his own chamber to change clothes.
“Master.”
The butler, who had followed him in, cautiously called out.
Caron, looking utterly indifferent, yanked off his shirt and tilted his head lazily.
“Were you planning to help me dress? I’d rather not.”
The old butler quickly lowered his head. At once, other servants passed him and began attending to Caron.
Once Caron had changed and was looking at the butler with a languid gaze, the man finally spoke.
“…May I ask who the lady just now was? If I’m to serve her without error, I must know, so I ask boldly.”
“A mysterious woman who made me lose my senses at first sight?”
“…Pardon?”
The butler’s startled voice slipped out.
Caron laughed softly, amused at the reaction, and patted the man’s shoulder.
“Kidding. I found her in the forest.”
“F-found her, you say…?”
His tone was far too casual, as if he were speaking of bringing home a rabbit he’d caught.
“Treat her with respect. Enough that she might grow greedy for this life, even if it costs her her life.”
“Grow greedy…?”
A trace of disappointment and resignation colored the butler’s voice. Caron studied him for a moment, then let out a light breath.
“We’ll be in a relationship of mutual opportunity. By the way—her name is El. Address her as Lady El.”
The butler lifted his head sharply at the familiar name.
“But, Master—that name…!”
“So what. There are countless Els in the world. It’s just a name I picked, don’t attach meaning to it.”
Caron brushed past the butler and sat in his chair.
“Do you think Lady Asella will sit by quietly?”
In contrast to the butler’s worried face, Caron leaned back and closed his eyes, exuding languid disinterest.
As though such things were nothing but a bother.
“It’s not even her real name. Just a childhood nickname. And frankly, that’s the only girl’s name I could think of from that age.”
“…Master.”
“Is that all you came here to fuss about?”
Though there was still laughter in Caron’s voice, something in it sent a chill down one’s spine.
The butler abandoned, for now, the thought of the pitiful young lady whose pet name had been taken, and shook his head.
“No, Master. I only wished to understand why you brought that lady here. If you have a plan, I must prepare accordingly.”
“Imagine it—the bloodthirsty Duke suddenly brings home a woman of no birth, no title, only remarkable beauty, and claims to be in love.”
“……”
“Entertaining, isn’t it? Just think how eagerly they’ll whisper, scheming to use it against me.”
Caron chuckled quietly, as though the prospect genuinely amused him.
The butler closed his eyes, convinced of Caron’s true intention.
This was, at best, a bargain. At worst… a tool.
Indeed, the woman called El was beautiful: raven-dark hair, and clear brown eyes that seemed forever brimming with tears.
And when someone is so striking, there is rarely a need to explain why they’re loved—people simply assume it’s because of beauty.
So then, what could be gained from spreading the story that Caron had fallen for a beautiful woman?
“What does Peyros gain from this?”
“An opportunity.”
“…?”
“If a woman with no background, no protector, can enter the Duke of Peyros’s bedchamber….”
“……”
“Wouldn’t everyone try to use her for something? Perhaps even my death.”
Caron laughed faintly, as though he were speaking of someone else’s fate.
It sounded like mockery aimed at the vassals forever seeking his life.
Caron Peyros.
The butler had served the Peyros family since the former Duke.
That former Duke had been impossible to see in any favorable light.
Countless women, countless children. Greed and murder.
Burdened with every vile epithet, the man had died suddenly in a carriage accident.
After that, the house of Peyros fell into chaos. Brothers killed brothers, all fighting for the title.
Even the retainers split into factions, betting on who would emerge victorious.
And the one who took the title in the end was the most unexpected of all—Caron Peyros.
He was neither a legitimate son, nor the eldest, nor particularly talented.
He had been a frail boy who barely left his rooms.
No one had believed he would become Duke.
“…So you’ve brought back a most alluring trap.”
When Caron inherited the dukedom, resistance from the retainers had been fierce.
Even as Duke, they schemed endlessly to install the candidates they’d once backed.
Caron endured so many assassination attempts that he chose the battlefield as the safer option.
There, he distinguished himself, won victories, and gained enough power that even the Crown could not ignore him.
Yet even then, he remained locked in conflict with his vassals.
So if, in the midst of such strife, a nameless woman suddenly appeared, all those opposed to Caron—including his own household—would try to use her.
Even Caron himself would use her.
“Yes. But still, it’s a good bargain. Truly, I mean to keep her close.”
His low voice was languid—at once seductive and chilling.
“…Are you saying you’ll even marry her?”
“That’s the plan, for now.”
Caron lifted his head and replied calmly.
The butler could not sigh in front of his master; he only swallowed dryly.
Caron’s scheme, from the perspective of Peyros, was not unwise. As he said, it was a mutually beneficial transaction, and a great opportunity for both.
And yet, the butler could not shake the unease seeping into his chest.
As though something grave were about to unfold.
El’s eyes fluttered open to the brightness. The white curtains swayed lightly, letting sunlight spill in through the gaps.
Looking at the tranquil scene, El realized—
It wasn’t a dream.
No matter what anyone said, this was real.
The warm bathwater that had enveloped her the night before, the fragrant petals, the soft nightclothes, the hot soup—all of it.
El rose from the bed and stepped toward the window.
Had sunlight always been this beautiful? She had never had the chance to enjoy it, and so had never known.
“My lady.”
Because El hadn’t pulled the bell-cord even though the morning was long past, a maid came to fetch her.
In truth, El hadn’t even thought to pull the cord.
“Y-yes? Me?”
El scrambled to the door and flung it open herself.
The maids, startled by her action, quickly resumed their professional composure and bowed.
“The Master summons you. We’ll help you prepare.”
“I can manage alone—it’s fine….”
At her refusal, one maid said she would wait outside.
El hastily dressed, her breath quickening with nervous urgency.
There was no orphanage director here to slap her for being late—yet her body moved frantically out of old habit.
When she emerged, the maid guided her to the study.
“Master, I’ve brought the young lady.”
“Send her in.”
At the sound of his voice beyond the door, El’s heart thudded heavily.
It wasn’t fluttering excitement.
It was more like the fervent faces of worshippers crying out to their god in the temple—an impression burned into her even in passing.
Yes, this was closer to reverence.
As the door opened, a pleasant fragrance washed over her. And then she saw him.
“…Master.”
The word slipped out before she realized it, so faint it was barely louder than the scratch of a pen.
To El, he was nothing less than her master.
Caron looked up, noticing her, and rose. El stepped into the study; the door shut behind her.
“Sit here.”
“Yes.”
She hurried to the chair he indicated.
He laid a few documents down in front of her.
When she looked at him questioningly, he pushed them closer.
“Read.”
“Ah… um….”
“What’s the problem?”
Crossing his legs with elegant poise, his expression was refined yet insistent.
So El, trembling, picked up the papers. All she saw were black scribbles scattered across white, like trails of ants.
El still did not know how to read.
(To be continued…)
