Chapter 12

It seemed like dawn was breaking. The sound of birds chirping came from outside the window.  

I tried to lift my eyelids, but they were swollen and wouldn’t open easily. I had no idea how long I’d been asleep.  

My throat was dry. I moved my parched lips, and then water flowed into my mouth. As I swallowed a sip, my body shuddered violently.  

No… I don’t want water…!  

“Ugh…!”  

Yvonne flinched and sat up in bed. As she gagged, someone slowly patted her back.  

A familiar face came into her blurry vision. Trembling, Yvonne pulled the blanket up to her chest. Alexander watched as she sat there with a frightened expression and finally spoke.  

“Kyle has gone to Tübingen.”  

Kyle? Why is he suddenly bringing up Kyle? As Yvonne stared blankly, Alexander continued, almost as if talking to himself.  

“Maybe I should’ve cut his neck instead of his legs.”  

“Ah…”  

A terrible memory resurfaced. No, no, no. I don’t want that. I don’t want to think about it. Yvonne couldn’t speak and only shook her head frantically. Goosebumps rose all over her body. She desperately tried to erase that horrifying memory.  

Her slender fingers gripped the blanket tightly. Her already pale face looked even paler today. Alexander studied her for a moment before speaking again.  

“Was there anyone else? Anyone else who forced themselves on you like that.”  

Yvonne’s mouth slowly fell open. The man’s gaze remained fixed on her pitifully trembling lips.  

“B… Brother… Please… don’t hurt Max…”  

She had said it before… She had definitely said it before…  

“I see.”  

But last time, too, he had said he understood… So why did he…?  

There was no change in his expression. It dawned on Yvonne anew–to him, neither she nor Max mattered at all.  

She had known it all along, but suddenly, tears burst forth. Alexander wiped away her flowing tears. Every time she felt the warmth through the soft handkerchief, her body flinched, but she didn’t dislike it.  

Yvonne had always feared this indifferent man, from the moment they first met until now. But the rare glimpses of his kindness felt strangely, irresistibly sweet. Maybe that was why she wanted to believe it was genuine.  

She tried to stop crying and gathered the courage to look at him, but she couldn’t begin to guess what he was thinking. As Yvonne lowered her gaze, Alexander rose from the chair. Before she could even lift her head, he left the room without a word.

* * *

Alexander stood with his arms crossed, gazing out the window. A few servants were loading luggage onto a carriage. As the work neared completion, a noblewoman slowly walked out of the castle. She was a blonde woman, her hat pulled low over her face. Not long ago, he had witnessed a similar scene from this very spot. But his feelings now were entirely different.  

She was a woman who looked fragile just standing there. As the wind blew, she wrapped her arms around her shoulders. He could almost see her trembling before his eyes–even though, from this distance, it should have been impossible.  

His stepsister was unbearably delicate. Both in body and mind. He had heard she wept daily, crying out the name of a knight who had wronged her. Alexander, too, thought it tragic that the unfortunate knight had lost an eye. But that was all. Under normal circumstances, he would have long since stopped caring.  

On the day he brought Yvonne back from the village, he had uncharacteristically ordered the knights escorting Max to silence him and let him go. Had that, ironically, provoked Kyle? While Alexander was away in Shallov, seeking out a renowned doctor, Kyle had beaten Max half to death.  

Alexander knew all too well how the mentally ill were treated, so he couldn’t trust any doctor until he saw their methods and their patients for himself. The doctor was neither too young nor too old. He wasn’t particularly eloquent, but his explanations sounded plausible enough. Yet the moment Alexander saw a patient who had undergone a frontal lobotomy, he stood up and left.  

There was only one reason he had sought out a specialist in mental illness. In short, it was solely for Yvonne’s sake. A gesture of goodwill, in his own way. But instead, Yvonne had to endure the crushing realization that all her desperate pleas had been in vain–only to then be violated by Kyle.  

‘And on top of that, she had to witness a scene she could never bear…’

When Alexander, unable to contain his fury, had severed Kyle’s legs, Yvonne fainted on the spot. Remembering the state she had been in, his brow furrowed.  

Yvonne approached the carriage. Unable to bring himself to watch her board, Alexander turned his head away. He felt disgusted. He wasn’t unaware that lately, he had been acting strangely emotional.  

“Was this really necessary?”  

“Convalescence. Why?”  

“Ah… Yvonne? I was talking about Kyle.”  

Logan’s lips curled higher as he saw tension flicker in Alexander’s jaw. But as expected, his brother’s face remained cold. It was unbearably irritating.  

Just how long can he keep this up? Logan steeled himself, recalling the note Nina had secretly passed to him just before leaving for the monastery.  

Naturally, Nina had not handed over the secret documents meant for Schmidt’s successor to Alexander. It seemed she had planned to return to the castle under a fabricated branch identity of Schmidt’s lineage and reclaim the earldom. Nina had told him that some of the vassals, including Riemelt, were already supporting him.  

She wanted Logan to drive a wedge between Alexander and powerful vassals like Vlasiha. The thought of obeying her orders annoyed him, but watching the two clash would be entertaining. After all, Nina’s demands were just another one of his usual amusements.  

“Even if a lord has the right to execute summary judgment, this is too much. The Vlasiha family is the second most powerful house here after Schmidt. Maiming the eldest son of the family head without a trial…”  

“Whether you placate them or crush them entirely now, this is the Schmidt Count’s business. You don’t need to concern yourself.”  

At the blunt dismissal, Logan shrugged. It was a clear declaration: You will never become Count Schmidt. But Logan had no attachment to such things anyway.  

“Right, right. Honestly, I don’t care about that stuff either.”  

By now, he knew well that it didn’t matter much to Alexander either.  

“I never thought you’d grow this attached to Yvonne.” 

Alexander, who had been about to turn back to the window, fixed his gaze on Logan instead. Logan grinned, genuinely amused.  

“Did it bother you that much that she slept around with men?”  

“Get lost. Now.”  

Alexander’s reply was icy. The reason he had sent Yvonne to a villa an hour’s ride away was partly to let her rest in seclusion–but also to keep her away from Logan.  

Until the end, Kyle had spouted nonsense about Logan manipulating Yvonne. Alexander had told him to ask Max, but at the time, Max was hovering between life and death–thanks to the wounds Kyle had inflicted.  

He had dismissed it as the ravings of a madman. He still did. But if, by any chance, it were true…  

He turned back to the window. A maid closed the carriage door behind Yvonne, and soon the coachman cracked his whip.  

Alexander gritted his teeth. One wrong move, and he might have shouted to stop the carriage right then. Long after it had disappeared from sight, he remained standing there, unmoving.

* * *

The Freis Mansion, located far from Schmidt Castle, was perpetually shrouded in thick fog–so dense that even at midday, one couldn’t see beyond the garden walls.

No one had stayed in this villa for a long time. Of course, its gloomy atmosphere played a part, but the real reason was something else entirely: the ownership of the mansion was unclear.

Due to divorces, deaths, religious disputes, and various legal complications, the villa was jointly owned by several people, including Julia and Alexander. As a result, this quiet, beautiful retreat in the woods remained untouched–until Yvonne, needing a place to recuperate, was swiftly moved here.

Martina, the butler and head maid, didn’t wander the mansion more than necessary. The gardeners began their work at dawn and left before Yvonne even woke. The servants stuck to their designated paths. Most days, Yvonne encountered no one except her personal maid, Karin. And most days, nothing happened at all.

Except at night.

Night after night, Yvonne would wake in a feverish haze, consumed by an unbearable lust. She would touch herself, fingers plunging inside, wishing desperately that someone–anyone–would take her. But the mansion was dead silent, and there was no one to help. She would masturbate until she cried, finally collapsing into unconsciousness as dawn broke.

Yesterday had been no different. After suffering through the night, she woke past noon, staring blankly out the window where the fog was thicker than usual.

The garden had become familiar by now. The thought that the dense mist might hide her made her suddenly want to step outside. More than anything, she suspected that staying cooped up in her room wasn’t helping her condition. That strange, creeping hypersexuality was slowly consuming her. The hours she spent tormented by desire grew longer each night.

Determined to go out today, Yvonne took the glass of water Karin had just brought. She sipped carefully, testing the taste before drinking. She couldn’t tolerate even the slightest impurity in her liquids–no tea, no alcohol.

Karin brought a pristine white Empire-waist dress. Yvonne draped a lace robe over it and descended to the first floor. Even after opening the front door, she hesitated–but once she took that first step, the rest came easily. Before she knew it, she was standing in the heart of the garden.

The sunlight didn’t reach her skin. The heavy, damp air reminded her of the underground dungeons where she’d often been confined as a child. Strangely, this familiarity made the garden feel less foreign.

White roses bloomed. Yvonne reached out, brushing her fingers against them. A sudden sense of reality struck her. How long have I been here? She had lost track of the days. Life in this place felt so natural–so much so that she couldn’t understand why she hadn’t come sooner.

By contrast, her past felt like a dream. A stepmother and stepbrothers appearing. Strange dreams plaguing her. Her father’s death. And then… everything that followed was so bizarre, even to someone as naïve as Yvonne. The recent events, especially, were so horrific she couldn’t believe they had truly happened.

Maybe it was all just a nightmare. She hadn’t taken any medication, nor had she been near Logan, yet her hypersexuality was worsening. It made no sense…

“Miss?”

“Ah!”

The sudden voice made her whirl around–and a sharp sting pricked her finger. A thorn. Before she could even look, a hand caught hers. A man pulled out a handkerchief, pressing it firmly against the bead of blood welling up.

“My apologies for startling–”

He stopped mid-sentence. So did Yvonne.

His skin was as pale as hers, his hair a shimmering platinum so white it nearly glowed. She had never seen such pretty violet eyes before. His face wasn’t just handsome–it was beautiful. But that wasn’t what held her gaze.

A bizarre sense of déjà vu washed over her.

I’ve seen him somewhere before. But if they had met, she would’ve remembered someone so striking. His androgynous features and dreamlike aura made her wonder if she’d encountered him in a dream.

He recovered first.

“I am Joseph Kittel. Count Riemelt informed me this mansion was unoccupied, so I intended to stay briefly, but…”

Yvonne bit her lip. She had only recently learned of this villa’s existence–she knew nothing about its shared ownership or the arrival of an outsider. What she didn’t understand was why Count Riemelt would allow a stranger to stay in a Schmidt property.

“I’ll have the butler show you in.”

Fortunately, Karin–who had been watching from a distance–hurried over to greet him. Only then did Yvonne realize she wasn’t even wearing her wig. She bolted back to her room.

An Unexpected Dinner

After speaking with Martina, Joseph formally came to greet Yvonne. He explained that he had come from the capital to meet Count Schmidt but found him absent, leaving him in an awkward position.

Still, Yvonne couldn’t fathom why he would choose this remote villa. His presence put her on edge–something he seemed to notice, offering a bitter smile.

“I can’t explain the details, but… I was sent by the Knüpfe royal family.”

That made some sense. Though she knew little of politics or history, she was aware that her great-grandmother had once supported the Knüpfe line before being betrayed and executed. The Schmidts despised the Knüpfes.

Joseph remained tight-lipped about his mission, but her wariness seemed to bother him. He kept the conversation light–asking about her finger, mentioning his own love for roses, complimenting the garden. It was all perfectly polite, ending only when he casually brought up dinner.

He seemed to assume Yvonne was the villa’s acting mistress. While dining with a guest was customary for a host, the idea was entirely foreign to her. Yet when Martina and Karin offered to cancel, she refused. The last thing she wanted was to worsen tensions between their already feuding families.

It’s just dinner…

Seated at the head of the table, Yvonne clutched her glass. Her hands trembled slightly. Thankfully, the meal consisted of simple, easily digestible dishes–ones she was used to. Just as she began to relax, Joseph dropped a bombshell.

“Forgive my impertinence, but… is that hair a wig?”

“Ah…”

A woman who had been white-haired at noon and golden-haired by evening. Of course it was a wig. Flustered, she nodded rudely. But Joseph only laughed, unbothered.

“I have platinum hair too. It’s rare, after all.”

“…”

Is this how people in the capital are? He genuinely didn’t seem to care. He even compared her eyes to rubies.

At some point, Yvonne realized she was holding a conversation–clumsy, but almost normal. He treated her like an ordinary person. More than that, he seemed to like her.

“If you’re willing, would you join me tomorrow at Lake Rosebadov? It’s nearby.”

He sounded like he genuinely wanted to go with her. Her heart raced.

The Lake

She tried not to dwell on it, but the loneliness had been crushing. Days passed where she cried for no reason. Yet despite everything, she wouldn’t have considered dining with anyone else.

He was a strange man. Warm in demeanor, soft in voice and expression. Kind, but never treating her like a burden. Unlike the servants, his kindness wasn’t tied to obligation. And most of all–it was bittersweet knowing he would disappear in a few days.

“You can’t see far, but it’s lovely, isn’t it?”

She nodded quickly. The damp, mist-laden breeze didn’t bother her. She took a deep breath, catching a faint, familiar scent. For once, she felt good. If every day were like this, she might recover soon.

Yvonne knew something inside her was broken. Delusions of grandeur, hypersexuality, paranoia–there were countless terms for her symptoms.

Suddenly, her past felt unreal. Hadn’t she lived in obscurity just months ago? How could so many terrible things happen in such a short time?

Yes, it must have all been a nightmare. A horrible dream that drove her mad. That’s why her father locked her in this villa. Once she recovered, he would call her back to the castle.

Even if her delusions faded completely, she wanted to keep a few precious memories–like the first time Logan had spoken to her kindly. Things that had never happened, and never would.

“The Prashili River runs through the heart of the capital. In October, they light lanterns along the banks for the festival. By the time you return, even midnight will be bright.”

Yvonne tried to imagine the glittering lanterns but couldn’t.

Joseph watched her listening quietly and spoke again.

“Will you come with me?”

“…?”

She turned from the foggy lake to face him. Their eyes met, and his marble-like face flushed.

“My mission will end soon… I’ll speak to the Count… and then… we could…”

His nervousness was palpable. Yvonne swallowed without realizing it. Joseph took a deep breath, then made up his mind.

“I fell for you at first sight.”

Her face burned. She had never received such a confession–not even in dreams.

Joseph waited silently for her answer. Without thinking, she nodded. She felt the same inexplicable pull. It was as if they’d known each other forever.

A large hand cupped her chin. His face drew closer. Warm lips pressed firmly against hers, trembling slightly–or was she the one shaking? Her heart pounded violently. She couldn’t bring herself to open her eyes.

When his lips parted hers, she yielded instinctively. A nervous sigh escaped him as his tongue slid in, soon tangling with hers in a desperate rhythm. She clutched his clothes, fearing she might collapse. Only when she was nearly breathless did he release her.

Somehow, she was sitting on his lap.

His violet eyes stared dazedly at her. The intensity of his gaze was overwhelming but not frightening. He doesn’t think I’m strange. His fingers combed through her hair–not the wig, but her natural white locks.

“It’s like you jumped straight out of my dreams…”

Tears spilled out with her laughter. How could someone else feel the exact same way? Gathering her courage, she whispered:

“Me… me too…”

Joseph’s lips quivered. Then he kissed her again, arms wrapping around her waist.

She had thought him slender, but his body was undeniably masculine–broad shoulders, a firm chest pressing against hers.

Something hard nudged between her thighs. She flinched, and his grip tightened, keeping her in place.

A large hand cupped her breast. When she gasped, he soothed her with a kiss to her neck–only for his lips to send shivers everywhere they touched.

Her nipples stiffened instantly. Joseph teased them relentlessly before finally pulling down her dress and chemise in one motion. Pale breasts spilled free, bouncing softly.

“Eek!”

Mortified, she tried to cover herself–but he was already mouthing at her flesh. His tongue swirled around her areola before sucking hard on the peak. She bit her lip to stifle a moan.

Then his fingers slipped beneath her chemise, stroking her inner thigh before reaching her damp folds. She tried to close her legs, but his hips blocked her. All she could do was grip his shoulders and whimper.

“Nn… this is… impossible… ah…!”

The fog obscured distant views, but they were still in the open, by the lakeshore. And since they’d told the servants their destination, someone could arrive at any moment. The only barrier between them and the grass was a thin cloth.

“Yvonne.”

His voice made her look up. His violet eyes were dark with lust. Just meeting his gaze was intoxicating.

“I want you right now.”

His low voice dripped with desire. Goosebumps raced down her spine.

“Do you want me too?”

I shouldn’t… But that strange illness was flaring up again. She wanted his hands all over her burning skin. She missed the way he’d touched her breasts. Her inner walls clenched, slickness dripping down her thighs.

“Yvonne…”

The way he whispered her name shattered her last shreds of restraint. Part of her wanted to confirm that those horrific memories weren’t real–that the terrifying pleasure that had swallowed her whole didn’t exist. That the electric thrill of lips on her neck, the overwhelming ecstasy of being filled, were not of this world. She needed proof.

When she nodded slowly, Joseph smiled brightly. He laid her gently on the cloth and hovered over her, whispering in her ear to relax. Then she felt him pressing inside.

“Are you alright?”

“I-I think… ah…”

“Tell me if it hurts…”

He looked more strained than she was, carefully gauging her reactions as he pushed deeper.

The thick head stretched her entrance. The sensation of being filled, of his length pressing insistently inside, was unmistakable. Once fully sheathed, he exhaled sharply.

Nervous, Yvonne fidgeted with the cloth beneath her. Joseph caught her hand, interlacing their fingers. He kissed her ear tenderly.

“Forgive me, I…”

“Hah…!”

He pulled out slightly before thrusting back in, hitting a spot that made her back arch. But his body held her firmly in place–no escape.

He began moving in earnest. Her sensitive body responded immediately, trembling as pleasure built. Uncontrolled moans spilled from her lips.

“Ah, nn, this is… too much…!”

“I can’t… hold back…!”

The wet sounds of their coupling mixed with the lapping waves. Yvonne moaned as she watched Joseph’s face twist with pleasure. The blurred sky above seemed to sharpen her senses.

Ah… so it wasn’t a dream after all. The feeling of being speared open, the hard body holding her–it was all familiar. But the despair was drowned out by overwhelming bliss.

Their skin clung together. His refined face contorted with pleasure. They kissed hungrily, unable to contain their excitement.

Yvonne came first, of course. Joseph kept going, driving into her relentlessly. He gripped her hips, fucking her with rough, noisy thrusts.

When he latched onto her lips, she couldn’t even moan properly. It felt like her mouth and core were being ravaged simultaneously.

“Yvonne, Yvonne…”

He whispered her name between kisses, completely unrestrained. Each thrust hammered into her, crushing her beneath him. Her small body jolted helplessly, breasts pressed flat, nipples rubbing against his chest.

But she loved it. Even his clumsy, desperate movements felt good. Her toes curled, her body shaking. Her walls clenched around him, and he groaned, pounding into her harder.

Her mind went blank. Good. Don’t let me think at all…

“Ah, ahh! Joseph… harder…!”

His pace grew rougher. He lifted her hips, angling deeper–and then he was there, hitting the very end of her.

“Hyaaah!”

Her legs locked around his waist as he came, pulsing inside her, filling her with thick warmth.

Even after, he held her. Yvonne lay with her head on his arm, staring dazedly at the gray sky.

“Yvonne.”

“Yes…?”

“I’m not actually Joseph Kippel…”

She turned slowly. He hesitated, then spoke again.

“I’m Lukas Knüpfe.”

Knüpfe. The name echoed in her mind. Then she remembered where she’d heard it before, and her eyes widened.

Lukas Knüpfe. The long-awaited prince born to the king and queen in their forties. Even someone as sheltered as Yvonne knew that much.

“Don’t worry. The royal family isn’t as cold as you might think. I’ll stay by your side.”

Lukas soothed her as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. Yvonne could only cling to him in silence.

The things she had thought might be delusions were real. And the man who had promised her a future upon first meeting was a prince.

“Lukas…”

He smiled at the sound of his name. Yvonne buried her face in his chest, hiding her unease.