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Chapter 04
“Still keeping your mouth shut?”
“Yes, my lord.”
Baron Hoffman put down the newspaper he was reading. His face looked sterner than ever. Even his loyal butler remained silent and withdrew.
“How exactly did you get involved with Duke Cryber?”
It had been three days already.
The scandal between Eliana and Grady had thrown the capital’s high society into chaos. People were obsessed with the meeting of a notorious seductress and an infamous playboy. The once-quiet social circles were now abuzz like a disturbed beehive.
Just last night, a letter had arrived from Duke Lloyd, who had proposed making Eliana the emperor’s official mistress. Baron Hoffman’s face twisted at the memory of the letter, written in polite handwriting but laced with irritation and regret.
The position of the emperor’s mistress. It was a golden key to the imperial palace—one he couldn’t afford to lose.
“Where is Rodin?”
“He is standing guard outside Lady Eliana’s room.”
The butler replied swiftly.
“I should go see Eliana.”
The baron rose from his seat. Though they said Rodin was “on standby,” his real task in the estate was to watch Eliana like a dog.
It had all gone wrong due to a moment’s carelessness that night.
The baron’s nightly escapades, driven by his festering inferiority complex, were routine. The only difference that night was the torrential rain.
Thunder loud enough to swallow screams split the sky, and in its flashes, the ugliness he had hidden was revealed—then vanished.
He had assumed Eliana’s screams were just lost in the storm. But when he sensed something was off and went upstairs, he found not Eliana, but the marquis lying in a pool of blood.
The memory made the baron shake his head as he turned a corner. Rodin, standing guard at Eliana’s door, bowed upon seeing him—like a well-trained hound.
“Come in.”
With a cold command, the baron walked in, Rodin following silently behind.
Sigh…
Baron Hoffman let out a heavy sigh as he entered Eliana’s room. Curled up on the bed, she turned her head at the sound.
“Eliana. I heard you haven’t eaten anything, but you look better than expected.”
He stood by the head of her bed, looking down at her. Her lips were cracked, her cheeks hollow from not having eaten or drunk even a sip of water for three days—but the baron was unbothered.
“…It’s not that I didn’t eat. I couldn’t. No one gave me anything.”
“Oh dear, you must’ve done something bad then.”
He clicked his tongue and looked at her with false sympathy.
“…Something bad?”
“There’s nothing worse than killing someone.”
At his words, Eliana stopped breathing. The marquis’s eyes, full of rage and holding a whip, flashed through her mind.
“It was… a mistake…”
She barely managed to speak.
It had been the baron’s routine to sip bourbon elegantly to the backdrop of his daughter’s screams while waiting for the marquis to finish his “fun.”
“People value the result far more than the process, Eliana.”
She had screamed for her life, begged to be saved. But her father, who had ignored her pain, now pointed at her—calling her a murderer because she had run for her life.
“What are you trying to say?”
At her words, Baron Hoffman gave a crooked smile.
“The imperial investigation team has contacted us.”
This, after the marquis’s body had already been buried. Yet the baron continued to scheme, using Eliana as a pawn.
“And now they’re questioning his death?”
The untreated wounds on her back burned with fever, blurring her vision. She bit the inside of her cheek, forcing her mind to stay sharp.
The bitter, metallic taste of blood was painfully familiar—it helped her focus. If she let herself get dragged into the baron’s manipulations now, she would end up as the emperor’s mistress in the blink of an eye.
She couldn’t let her life fall back into the sewer again.
“To the public, the marquis was a man of great character. The artists he supported must now feel like kites with cut strings.”
“…”
Eliana swallowed dryly. Seeing this, Baron Hoffman let out a mocking laugh.
Creating drama was easy. It was even easier when the subject was Eliana—his daughter who had lived her entire life obeying his commands.
He assumed her brief rebellion would be easily crushed, and that assumption was clear in his gaze.
“Are they planning to dig the marquis’s body back up?”
Her voice was sharp.
“Maybe. But if you change your mind, none of that will happen.”
The baron leaned down, gently brushing Eliana’s messy hair back as he smiled kindly. Eliana turned her face away coldly, avoiding him.
“…”
“You foolish girl. Did you really think that was the only card I held?”
She closed her eyes at his scolding. The wounds on her back throbbed with distant pain.
Even as he looked down at his daughter—tattered from pain and injury—Baron Hoffman wanted more wealth and honor.
He gazed at her gasping in pain with cold eyes, then turned his head.
“You used to starve me when I didn’t obey you as a child.”
Her sudden words made him look back down at her. Seeing she couldn’t even sit up straight because of her injuries, he frowned.
‘Hiring a priest would cost quite a bit… No, I should ask Duke Lloyd. See if the emperor has a taste for unusual things.’
Unaware of what schemes the baron was hatching in his mind, Eliana used the last of her strength to appeal to her father.
“Did I?”
The pitch-black room was familiar to Eliana. When she disobeyed, he would lock her in the wardrobe.
He shrugged. What was a traumatic memory for her was barely even a blur to him.
“Eliana. My sweet daughter. I don’t understand why you’re acting this way.”
He gently stroked her sunken cheek with a hand full of feigned concern.
“…”
She stayed silent. She had lived her whole life in the prison of being the “good daughter” he demanded.
But after two horrific marriages, she finally wanted to escape his grasp.
She cursed Grady Cryber, the man who had saved her in the rain that night. Whether out of kindness or whimsy, his interference had thrown her back into a hellish life.
And this time, her opponent was the emperor.
If she became the emperor’s mistress, as her father wished, she would never escape.
“Eliana. My beloved daughter. Why can’t you see that everything I do is for you?”
Sensing her resistance, the baron softened his voice.
“This is for the family, isn’t it?”
“This time, it’s not for the family. It’s for you, Eliana.”
At those words, she lifted her head. The man who always spoke of glory and prosperity now mentioned her name.
“What do you mean?”
“Under the emperor’s protection, in his shadow, no one will be able to hurt you.”
Silence filled the room.
For the first time, the three people involved in that night’s death were gathered—figuratively—in one place.
Eliana’s blue eyes anxiously scanned the room.
“…I didn’t kill him.”
Remembering the marquis reaching for her with bloodshot eyes, she shook her head and protested.
“Then why didn’t you save him?”
“…”
“Why did you run?”
The baron expertly manipulated her emotions.
Eliana remained silent. She was afraid.
If he lived, she would once again have to endure the whippings and suspicion. She wouldn’t even be able to breathe.
That’s why she had wanted to die.
She hadn’t planned to kill the marquis. She had planned to kill herself.
If Duke Grady Cryber hadn’t interfered, she wouldn’t be facing this.
“…Because it hurt. I just didn’t want to be in pain anymore.”
At her confession, Baron Hoffman sighed harshly and rubbed his face. His expression held not a shred of sympathy.
“You killed someone over that?”
“I didn’t kill him!”
Her scream echoed, high-pitched and raw. The baron laughed.
“Whatever the reason, the marquis is dead. Because you ignored him.”
He expertly pressed her into fear.
He trusted in Eliana’s obedience—one born from fear and anxiety. Just like always, she would become the emperor’s mistress.
“You’ve already gained titles and wealth! You’ve gotten so much!”
“The emperor’s mistress! The empress hasn’t had a child in years. If you bear him a son—”
The baron knelt beside her bed. Eliana, looking down at him, immediately turned her head away.
“Eliana. Please. Trust your father.”
She shook her head at his desperate plea.
“…I just want it to stop, Father.”
She pulled her arm away from his grasp.
Baron Hoffman stared silently at the daughter slipping from his fingers—then stood.
“Bring the whip.”
