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Chapter 9
“Um, Your Grace. Please return the book now.”
“Should I leave it here?”
Elle reached out as she arrived at the door, but Caron ignored her lightly and placed the book on the desk by the window.
Some said he was nothing but cold and ruthless. Others said that as long as one didn’t cross the line, he was endlessly tolerant of mistakes.
The Caron Elle knew… was certainly frightening, but also kind.
“Thank you. I should have carried the book more carefully… I’m sorry.”
“Unless I ask you to apologize, do not apologize.”
“But still. To make someone as noble as you carry a book for me…”
Caron quietly looked down at Elle, who had shrunk back almost pathetically. His thick, neat brows flicked upward for a moment.
“Elle. Never bow your head to anyone. Not even to me.”
“Eh? But how could I—”
“If you truly feel sorry, then at least call me by name.”
Caron let out a laugh, the corner of his lips curving upward.
His already sharp, attractive smile was beautiful enough to be enchanting, but it also carried a chill.
It was the kind of smile that made Elle feel something terrible would happen if she didn’t call his name.
“Do you dislike it?”
“N-no! It’s not that, but how could I possibly address Your Grace by name so casually…”
“Then don’t call it casually.”
“Y-yes, sir.”
Elle felt as if her head might burst. Everything was spinning again, dizzying. She was almost in a daze, simply nodding over and over at Caron’s words, hardly aware of what she was even saying.
“Call me.”
Could a person really be like this? Elle suddenly realized her savior was very, very seductive.
Perhaps, as the dark rumors said, His Grace truly wasn’t human but of some other race.
“M… master.”
“What?”
It was a slip of the tongue. What she had muttered inwardly slipped out.
Caron narrowed his eyes, staring intently at Elle.
“Did I say something wrong—?”
“And why would I be your master?”
His voice held a faint displeasure, making Elle shrink further as she whispered back.
“B-because… you saved me…”
“I don’t recall ever taking in a dog.”
“I’m sorry.”
Elle fought hard not to cry. The feeling of being denied, of being rejected, was unbearable.
Then Caron reached out and pressed his thumb against her lips. His fingertips were a little cool.
“Your lips.”
“Ah…”
Only then did Elle realize she’d been biting her lips too hard. She loosened them.
Caron brushed his fingertip across her bitten lips, then clicked his tongue.
“So difficult to hear my own name.”
With no hesitation, Caron withdrew his hand and turned away.
Elle clasped her hands together to calm her swirling mind. She had to regain focus. She had to say what the god who saved her wanted to hear, do what he wanted her to do.
Only then would there continue to be warmth, a bed to sleep in, and delicious food.
This was a chance Elle had never had in her entire life.
“…Caron.”
“……”
“…sir.”
Silence filled the room.
Caron turned back, eyes widened in surprise. His sharp, slanted eyes were fierce, but within them was the expression of a boy, as if something sudden and unexpected had surfaced.
“…It’s been quite some time since I last heard that.”
He let out a faint laugh, then left the room.
Elle stared for a long time at the spot where Caron had stood, then lowered her gaze to the book he had placed down.
He was a warm person.
He didn’t scorn her as lowly, nor did he beat her. To Elle, that alone made him the most angelic person in the world.
His blue hair, his long slanted eyes, thick brows, and the upward tilt of his lips came to mind. She shook her head quickly to drive the memory away.
Honestly, if one judged only by looks, Caron was closer to a devil seductive enough to lead someone into hell rather than a god.
But.
“That doesn’t matter to me.”
Elle muttered as she pulled the book on top toward her and opened it.
So what if he was a devil? If he gave her food and shelter, then he was master, god, and savior all at once.
Elle did not believe in the existence of souls. If souls existed, the noble who had killed her childhood friend should have long been tormented by vengeful spirits.
But he lived proudly, unpunished. So either there were no souls, or, as in this life, even souls in the afterlife were powerless before nobles.
“Argh!”
“Quiet, Elle. If you wish to stay by His Grace’s side, you must endure at least this much.”
At Madam Emilon’s cold warning, Elle quickly bit down on her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut.
It hurt. This was an entirely different kind of pain.
She had practiced waltzing all night long, but suddenly Madam Emilon had brought in a tea set and made her perform a tea ceremony.
In the end, Elle brewed tea so bitter it was nearly undrinkable.
This was the result.
Blood dripped down, staining the carpet. Madam Emilon quickly scrubbed it away with the sole of her shoe.
“Hhh… ugh.”
“Endure it. To remain by His Grace’s side, you must not become a burden. Being by his side is both an honor and a danger. If you were ever threatened and ordered to reveal his weaknesses, what would you do?”
“……”
“That is why you must become used to pain. So that you never bring harm to him.”
“…Yes.”
Elle gave a resigned smile.
Her body hurt, her mind felt faint, and her vision wavered.
Perhaps it was because she had finally come to a safe place that her body and spirit had grown weaker. Once, this would have been nothing. Now it hurt enough to bring her to tears.
Madam Emilon’s words weren’t wrong. She said His Grace had countless enemies, that they were always searching for his weakness.
So Elle endured the torture, wanting not to become his weakness, at the very least not someone who would betray him.
But it hurt. If this were real torture, Elle thought she would have just bitten her tongue and died.
Frustration and sorrow welled up, and tears fell silently down her face.
Yet neither Elle nor Madam Emilon noticed that the door had not been closed properly.
“Madam… should we not report this to the Lord?”
The head maid, having witnessed the shocking scene from the doorway, spoke in worry.
Beside her, the old butler shut his weary eyes.
Hearing Elle’s trembling voice as she tried so hard to swallow her sobs, his heart sank.
Should they report it? But Madam Emilon was of the loyal household that had helped Caron ascend to the dukedom.
Between Madam Emilon, who had served Caron Feyros, and a girl from the slums he had brought in only a month ago… what choice would His Grace make if both stood before him?
“Madam—”
“…Let us first wait until the lesson is over before deciding whether to report this.”
“What?”
The last voice was low, chilling, and male.
The head maid immediately froze in terror, covering her face with both hands. The old butler, rare in his surprise, hurried to bow with trembling formality.
“M-My Lord…”
“I wonder… what is there to debate about reporting or not reporting?”
“That is—”
“Open it.”
The butler fumbled with the doorknob in panic, failing several times.
Watching him in silence, Caron let out a cold laugh and kicked the door open himself.
With a loud crash, the door swung wide, revealing the scene inside.
Elle sat with clenched teeth, tears streaming silently down her face. From the pain, she hadn’t even noticed the noise of the door.
“…Pathetic.”
Madam Emilon’s face froze, shock and horror flashing across it, then quickly giving way to relief.
She believed, firmly, that Caron would never reproach her.
“Your Grace! This is all for your sake—”
“How foolish of you, to forget my order to treat her with respect.”
Caron’s indifferent words cut her off. The slight curve of his lips looked as if he were mocking her.
“I was doing this for you, I swear—!”
“Seize her.”
At his command, the two knights who had followed hesitated. One of them, after a moment’s hesitation, grabbed Elle’s arm.
“Ah!”
And instantly, the knight’s arm was severed.
Elle flung away the knight’s dismembered hand still clutching her arm.
While everyone else panicked, only Caron remained perfectly calm.
“So, in your eyes, it is Elle who is at fault?”
Understanding the meaning, the other knight immediately bound Madam Emilon to a chair.
“Your Grace! You cannot do this to me!”
Madam Emilon shrieked, panicked, struggling violently.
Caron ignored her entirely and instead knelt on one knee before Elle.
“What shall I do for you?”
“…Do for me?”
“Whatever you ask for—I’ll grant it.”
Caron’s half-lidded eyes made it feel as if he truly could grant anything.
Elle stared directly into his pitch-black eyes, almost challengingly.
“…Can you let me kill a noble with my own hands?”
Gasps echoed from outside the room.
But Elle kept her gaze fixed only on Caron, as though asking, “How far will you allow me to go?”
Caron, with eyes that seemed to have discovered something interesting, reached out leisurely and tucked back a lock of Elle’s disheveled black hair behind her ear.
“Of course.”
(To be continued in the next chapter)
