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Chapter 36
In the time since the bloody storm had ended, the atmosphere within the House of Duke Peyros had been like walking on thin ice.
The one who thawed that icy air and softened it was none other than Lady El. That was why Ena thought El’s origins didn’t matter at all.
What mattered was that El was changing this mansion.
But to a wounded El, none of that was visible.
Just holding back the emotions surging inside her was already too much to bear.
Barely able to gather herself, El forced a smile and lightly placed her hand on Ena’s shoulder.
“Please keep it a secret from the Lord that I know about this. I was just… carried away on my own.”
“… I will absolutely keep it secret.”
“Thank you. Then, would you help me with a simple touch-up?”
Speaking weakly, El turned her head to look at her reflection in the mirror.
Could someone like her even dare to stand beside a man who was so breathtakingly beautiful simply by existing?
She had already decided to fold those feelings away, so letting them show any further would only be unwise.
Quickly shaking off those thoughts, El finished getting dressed with Ena’s help and headed for the dining room.
“…”
As she walked down the corridor, El suddenly glanced down at the hem of her dress, swaying gently with her steps.
A lovely pink gown.
It wasn’t a color that suited her.
Would it have suited that young lady named Ascella? Since everyone said she was lovely, surely it would. Most definitely.
After all, Ascella had been born a noble. A beautiful lady raised amid everyone’s blessings.
El bit her lip softly.
“My lady?”
“It’s nothing. My dress just got caught on my shoe.”
Both El and Ena knew that was a lie.
But neither pointed it out.
El simply hoped she wouldn’t reach the dining room at all, but her unrelenting feet carried her there anyway.
When she arrived, a servant opened the door for her.
“You’re late, El.”
Caron’s voice held no trace of anger.
El’s gaze fell upon the dining table.
Not a single dish showed any sign of being touched. He had truly been waiting for her.
“You’ve been waiting for me all this time?”
The question slipped out of El.
Caron, still standing without having sat, looked straight at her and replied calmly.
“Because I wanted to dine with you.”
“You shouldn’t have waited for someone like me. You should’ve eaten first.”
“El.”
Caron’s voice dropped lower.
Feigning composure, El sat down and bowed her head slightly.
“Thank you for the meal.”
It was half a rebellious act.
Normally, El would have sat down cheerfully and eaten with Caron.
But now, her behavior reminded him of the day he had first brought her here—when she was nameless, timid, and only able to murmur endless thanks for even a single meal.
Caron’s black eyes darkened. The darker they grew, the more alluring the curve of his lips became.
Dinner passed in silence.
El’s eyes, usually alight whenever they looked at Caron, were fixed only on her plate.
And yet, the salad she had been served first was left almost untouched.
Caron set down his knife and dabbed his lips with a napkin before speaking softly.
“El.”
“Yes, Lord Caron.”
Lowered eyes, a submissive posture ready to accept anything.
Normally, Caron liked those who were meek and obedient. But not when it came to El.
He had worked so hard to get her to look him straight in the eye and protest with an indignant expression.
So why had she returned to her old self? Caron couldn’t understand.
“Come here.”
Even though it sounded like a degrading command, El rose without hesitation and stood beside him.
Like a servant waiting on her master.
Caron’s head tilted. A sudden urge to test her welled up.
How long could El endure the seething desire bubbling beneath his surface?
How long could that frail body of hers bow its head and remain submissive?
If he pulled her down into the mud with him, would she still remain by his side?
“El. Tell me what’s wrong.”
“I’m just a little tired.”
“I told you to tell me if you need anything. Don’t behave like this.”
Though his words were harsh, Caron’s voice was slow and almost gentle.
“I’m sorry.”
“El, you truly don’t understand me. Every time you apologize to me, I feel like killing someone.”
The slums of Elrum, the orphanage director who made her this way—
He had spared them only because El didn’t want him to act. He had waited for her to ask him directly.
But was this right? Caron felt his patience fraying as he stretched his hand slowly across the table—
Crash!
With a sweep of his arm, he knocked every plate off the table.
The loud shattering filled the room, leaving the table bare.
He pointed to it with his chin.
“Sit.”
Without a word, lips pressed tightly shut, El climbed onto the table draped with a blue cloth.
“Now, this is much better.”
Caron muttered, locking his gaze firmly onto hers.
El forgot even how to breathe, utterly ensnared by his eyes.
Sitting on the table he dined at, looking down at him, felt… strange.
Her cheeks grew hot, and she exhaled in secret, breath uneven.
“Now, El. Speak. I hate being kept in suspense.”
He wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her close. El lowered her gaze, unable to meet his eyes. Somehow, she needed to find an excuse.
“It’s just that… I don’t know how I should face you, Lord Caron.”
“Why?”
With a sly smile, Caron rested his head lightly on her lap.
“T-that day. The day I bowed before you.”
Tense, El clutched the hem of her dress tightly.
“Ah. That was quite the spectacle, wasn’t it.”
“Because of that… it’s been hard to look you in the face. Are you… angry with me?”
“What if I said I was?”
“Then I’ll gladly accept any punishment.”
At that, Caron sighed quietly and leaned back.
“So that’s what you think of my words.”
“…?”
El blinked, startled, as she looked at him.
Strangely, Caron truly looked as if he’d been hurt by what she said.
Though he tried to hide it, his tightly pressed lips betrayed his feelings.
“You must have thought my request was nothing more than a joke.”
“Lord Caron.”
Flustered, El reached out. But Caron seized her hand and entwined his fingers with hers.
“I was just being childish, getting excited alone. I wanted to ask you if you’d go to the festival with me.”
“…Festival?”
“Yes. A nearby town is holding one quite grandly. I wanted to invite you.”
“…”
Caron lowered his gaze slightly, his long black lashes trembling faintly.
El felt indignant and dumbfounded.
It was a ploy—surely a ploy. Caron was not the type to droop in dejection over a single word.
But on rare occasions, when he let his lashes tremble and wore a sorrowful expression, it usually meant one of two things: mischief, or desire.
“And yet, El, why are you so cold to me? It’s too cruel.”
“Are you serious? Do you truly wish for me… to love you?”
“Yes. Because only then will it not be painful for you to remain at my side.”
What could the Duke of Peyros, a man even the Emperor tread carefully around, possibly gain from wooing and seducing a girl of slum-born origins?
What she really wanted to ask was this:
Why talk of love, when he would one day marry her off to another noble house anyway?
But she didn’t have the courage to voice it.
What if the truth she uncovered was more brutal than she could bear?
And even if she knew everything, could she ever leave his side?
No. She couldn’t. She would only leave if he cast her aside.
So perhaps it was better to pretend ignorance.
To simply desire him, dream futile dreams, be wounded, and then stop—content with the life of a noblewoman, a life once unthinkable for someone from the slums.
But it wasn’t working.
What she longed for couldn’t be bought with wealth or power.
It was something harder to swallow than any rich dish.
The desire to remain by someone’s side.
(To be continued…)
