ICYD 02

Chapter 2

She’ll Try to Run Away

“Eeeek—!”

A maid screamed. Beneath her, shattered teacups and a broken teapot lay scattered across the floor.

The newly assigned maid burst into tears as she looked up at the young lord standing before her.

His complexion was pale, his frame slender, his face gaunt. His jet-black hair was as dark as the night sky, and his ash-colored eyes were clear yet distinct, like a full moon.

The man, who had only just come of age, was a magnificent creation, as if sculpted carefully by the gods.

Delicate lines, striking features—eyes sharply slanted like a cat’s, and a nose and lips with a strong sense of presence.

There was nothing to criticize.

“I told you not to touch me.”

“I—I didn’t! I was only trying to pour you some tea—”

“Damn it.”

As if that mattered. The man stepped down from the bed and slowly approached the maid who had collapsed onto the floor.

“Get out.”

“But the madam said—ah! Young master!”

The maid gasped in horror as she saw him step barefoot onto the shards of broken glass.

Sharp fragments pierced his feet, and blood welled up—but the young lord showed no sign of pain as he quietly stared down at her.

“You seem to think I’m a joke.”

“N-no, not at all! I was only following orders. The madam told me to serve you tea and talk about marriage—!”

“Don’t say that damned word in front of me.”

“Y-young master…”

Rian leaned his face close to hers and picked up a shard from the broken teapot on the floor. The sharp-edged fragment was perfectly suited for cutting—or slashing—something.

Realizing his intent, the maid fell to her knees.

“Whether I die now or later, it’s all the same.”

“N-no! Please! Butler! Head maid!”

“Why—weren’t you hoping I’d die too?”

“N-no! Really, no!”

At that moment, the butler and the mercenaries who had been outside noticed the commotion and hurried over.

“Young master! Please calm down!”

Rian examined them with dry, lifeless eyes, then clenched the shard tightly.

Because it dug deep into his palm, blood poured out like water—thick in color, carrying a metallic stench.

Unlike the maid, who was trembling like a soaked rat, the butler approached him slowly, as if accustomed to scenes like this.

“Young master, you must receive treatment at once!”

“It’s fine. Just get rid of the maid.”

When Rian threw the shard onto the floor, the maid’s legs gave out. Unable to stand, she braced herself with her hands and scrambled backward.

Helped up by a mercenary, the bride broke down in tears, crying that she couldn’t do it anymore—she truly couldn’t.

The butler gestured for them to escort the maid out and ordered then that a physician be summoned.

In the meantime, Rian naturally lay back on the bed and stared blankly out the window.

“The doctor will be here shortly.”

“That maid will quit, I suppose. How many has it been now?”

“…”

“Finding new maids must be difficult by now, butler.”

Despite Rian’s mocking tone, the butler bowed his head.

“There are many maids who wish to serve the Solter family, young master.”

“What a shame.”

Your bride will be arriving soon, young master.”

A bitter, dry smile spread across Rian’s expression.

“She is a proper young lady, from the Winterif family, which holds a count’s title. She has beautiful blonde hair—”

“Shut up.”

The butler hesitated for a moment under Rian’s piercing glance, then spoke again.

“You will surely like her.”

“So a maid will do, and you plan to bring that ‘proper young lady’ and stick her right beside me.”

“It is for the sake of the Solter family, young master.”

“More precisely, for the sake of the Duchess of Solter.”

Rian ground his teeth.

Rian’s mother, who had given birth to the first and second sons, had died young from the very same illness that afflicted him. Her name can the current Duchess of Solter—a young woman who gave birth to the third son.

She was young and intelligent, but also greedy. It was her doing that she bewitched the eldest son with religion and made him become a priest.

She had tried to push Rian down the same spiritual path, but unfortunately for her, his interests lay in military studies and political science.

But god was on the Duchess’s side.

In the year Rian turned seventeen, he developed the same chronic illness as the former duchess.

‘And now what?’

‘A Bride? Marriage?’

‘I should’ve just found a ghost bride to marry with me when I die.’

“Young master.”

As Rian looked down from the window, he spotted the crown of a blonde-haired woman just entering the annex.

So that’s her—the foolish woman sold off in a political marriage.

“One month.”

“Pardon?”

“That woman will run away from this estate within a month.”

“It seems there was a small accident.”

The head maid spoke in an indifferent voice as she looked at the shards of glass scattered across the floor. An accident.

Anasta, having broken glass windows herself more than once in the past, knew at once that Rian had shattered the window with his own hands.

Above all, there was that gaze—those eyes that had looked down at her while she perched on the window.

“We’ve already arranged the interior. If you need anything else, please let us know.”

“It’s a wonderful room.”

She said this while looking a space far larger and better furnished than the room she had stayed in at the count’s house.

“But what is this door?”

She noticed a door set into the wall. It looked as though it connected to the room next door…

“At times, the young master locks his door. When that happens, you can enter through this door.”

The head maid handed Anasta a key.

“You mean I’m supposed to force my way in?”

“Not usually. However, when the young master refuses to take his medicine or skips his meals, this door is often used.”

Anasta immediately realized that this would be her responsibility.

“Please rest well. I’ll tell you what you need to do tomorrow.”

Thud.

The door closed.

Though it was an unfamiliar environment, Anasta did not tremble with fear. She had already heard plenty of rumors about the young lord of the Solter family. He was described as a fierce, cold personified beast. Still, compared to her own room back home, this place was different.

So to Anasta, this place was no different from heaven. A very peaceful heaven.

She took off her outer garments and lay down on the bed.

So soft.

It was far better than the cold, hard floor she usually slept on. Perhaps because of that, she fell into a deep sleep almost the moment she lay down.

And while she was sleeping so comfortably she couldn’t even dream, someone suddenly grabbed her hand tightly.

‘Mother?’

Her mother, drunk as usual, often came into Anasta’s room—this was her habit.

She would deliberately wake Anasta just to vent her anger. Anasta was always forced to endure it, swallowing the insults and scolding without complaint.

But today, when Anasta calmly opened her eyes, she paused at the unfamiliar sight.

This was not the count’s house.

The person above her was not old mother, but a breathtakingly beautiful young man.

“You.”

“Now isn’t the time to be leisurely nodding your head.”

“This wasn’t the room I chose.”

A voice came from her lips. Calm, airier, higher in tone than he had expected, it made Rian pause for a moment.

He stopped speaking and stared down at Anasta, who was lying beneath him.

Waking up to a man looming over her could have startled her yet, far from it, she was not only unshaken, she was composed.

That twisted Rian’s temper.

“Tell them to change your room.”

“I have no choice in the matter, young master.”

“No choice? I’m a man, you’re a woman. You want to be treated like this?”

As he spoke, Rian’s hand slid over her stomach through her clothing. The sensation was strange and unnerving, and slightly furrowed her brows.