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Chapter 8
“…Pardon?”
Caught off guard by the sudden attack, Rovellin froze.
So Ian had known from the very beginning.
Why? How?
Before she could even form the question, her instincts screamed.
‘First, I need to get out of here!’
She didn’t know how Ian had figured it out, but she had to insist he was mistaken.
She could think about the rest later.
“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t know? You know very well.”
“…I’m sorry, but I really don’t understand what you’re implying. I’ll bring more tea.”
Rovellin rose from her seat as calmly as she could.
She needed to naturally leave this situation and get Ian out of the house.
With that thought, she reached the reception room door—
‘Huh?’
The doorknob wouldn’t budge.
Confused, she looked up—and saw a hand blocking the door from the other side.
At the same time, a cold voice brushed her ear.
“Where are you going?”
“Pardon?”
She turned her head slowly.
Those blue eyes were looking down at her.
Completely different from the playful gaze he had earlier when he stole her portrait.
As if everything until now had been an appetizer—and the real purpose of his visit was only beginning.
“You’re going to run again?”
“W-what are you talking about—”
“You’re the woman who ate me and ran.”
“…E-excuse me?”
The crude, blunt phrasing hit her like a slap.
Something was wrong. Very wrong.
But she couldn’t afford to be dragged into his pace.
“N-no, I think you’ve mistaken me for someone else.”
“Is that so?”
Ian’s lips curled into a crooked smile.
He lifted his free hand slowly.
‘Wait—Is he going to hit me?’
Her eyes widened like the ocean.
Her mind spiraled through every worst-case scenario.
She squeezed her eyes shut.
But—
Tap.
Instead of pain, there was only a soft sound of fabric loosening.
Tap. Tap.
A couple more sounds followed.
When she finally opened her eyes cautiously—
She immediately regretted it.
“W-why are you undressing?!”
His shirt was open.
A well-defined, sculpted chest was visible beneath it.
But she had no time to appreciate it.
“I need to confirm something.”
“Confirm what?!”
“Whether you’re the woman from that day. Maybe you’ve forgotten—but if we reenact it, you might remember.”
Tap.
The last button came undone.
Rovellin’s mind went blank.
“Isn’t it unfair? Only you get to act like nothing happened.”
His gaze darkened—obsessive, fixed.
Rovellin panicked.
‘Reenact it?! Don’t tell me he means what I think he means?!’
Even ignoring the fact that this was her house—
This was clearly harassment. Possibly worse.
Even if everything else in the original story had changed, Ian’s personality clearly hadn’t.
But she had absolutely no intention of following that tragic route.
“W-wait, Your Highness!”
She quickly raised her hand and pressed it against his chest.
‘He’s so strong!’
Her thin arm barely made a difference.
Ian’s lips curled slightly beneath her palm.
She looked around desperately—but she was trapped between him and the door.
All she could see was him.
His open shirt revealed a firm chest and a sharply defined waistline.
She squeezed her eyes shut.
And then—
Knock knock knock.
A sudden knock came from behind the door.
Ian froze.
A voice followed.
“Miss. Duke Raven is here.”
“…What? Brian?”
Rovellin looked up at Ian in shock.
Ian tilted his head as if nothing was wrong.
Everything was wrong.
“P-please fix your clothes!”
A shirtless man and a woman alone in a room.
This looked exactly like a misunderstanding waiting to happen.
And Brian—the male lead of the original story—was not someone she could afford misunderstandings with.
“J-just hurry!”
“Hey. Don’t just grab—!”
Panicking, Rovellin grabbed his shirt and tried to fix it.
Ian struggled to stop her—
“W-wait!”
Thud!
The two lost balance and fell straight to the floor.
At that exact moment—
“Your Highness! Just how long are you planning to—!”
Brian burst into the room.
He froze.
On the carpet, Rovellin was lying beneath Ian.
Silence.
“…What exactly are you two doing?”
Neither of them could answer.
Rovellin scrambled up in panic and shoved Ian away.
“B-Bri! It’s not what it looks like! It’s a misunderstanding!”
“…A misunderstanding?”
“Yes! His Highness spilled tea! So I was trying to get him clothes, and then he suddenly felt dizzy—!”
Rovellin desperately gestured to Ian.
Ian calmly picked up the teacup, poured the cold tea onto his shirt, and placed the cup back down.
A perfect performance.
Brian narrowed his eyes.
“…You spilled tea, Your Highness?”
“I felt a bit dizzy. The shock from earlier must’ve hit me.”
Ian leaned back on the sofa, covering his forehead.
Very convincing.
Brian still looked suspicious, but didn’t press further.
“Then I’ll call for a physician from the palace.”
“Good idea. Ah… my head.”
Ian staggered slightly.
His shirt was still open.
Brian’s eyes sharpened.
“…Duke. What exactly are you doing?”
Ian looked down to see Brian’s coat wrapped around him.
‘Isn’t this what you do for ladies?’
It was less “covering shoulders” and more “binding his entire upper body.”
“Sorry for the trouble. Let’s go, Bell.”
Brian half-dragged Ian out of the estate.
Ian complained but didn’t resist.
Before getting into the carriage, he glanced up.
At the window, Rovellin was peeking out—
and quickly ducked back inside when she met his gaze.
His lips curved.
‘So it really is you.’
With that satisfied thought, he boarded the carriage.
But the moment he sat down, his gaze sharpened again.
“Duke. Secure information on the carriage driver. Registration number is—”
“Damn it!”
BANG!
A fist slammed onto the desk.
Count Wighell flinched.
Empress Karola glared at him with bloodshot eyes.
“I-is there something wrong, Your Majesty…?”
“Wrong? You call this nothing?! Are your eyes just decoration?! LOOK AT THIS!”
She threw a crumpled document at him.
The Count picked it up, scanned it—
and let out a small, uneasy sigh.
