Chapter 20
A heavy silence hung in the air for a while. Lexion glanced around her room, the corners of his mouth twisting.
“To think such a disgraceful place exists within the ducal estate… how surprising.”
He wasn’t wrong. Her room was in shambles, to the point of being pathetic. Fearing that Kyrie might harm herself out of defiance or before being sent to the convent, anything remotely sharp had been cleared away. Even the furniture had been removed, leaving her with nothing but an old, tattered mattress.
But such things didn’t matter to Kyrie. Her face turned cold.
“I should say I’m the one who’s surprised.”
“And by what, exactly?”
“That someone who went to such lengths to avoid me would now come here to see me.”
There wasn’t even anger in Kyrie’s voice. There was nothing left to say to him, and no desire to say it even if there were.
Sensing her demeanor, Lexion’s voice took on an unpleasant edge.
“For a woman who chased after me so desperately, you show no sign of being pleased to see me.”
Kyrie stared at him as if she’d just heard something utterly absurd. If she truly had harassed and relentlessly pursued him, as others believed, it might have made sense. But wasn’t it all just a farce they’d agreed to?
Or perhaps…
Perhaps after hearing it so often, people claiming she tormented him and hounded his every step, even Lexion, who should’ve known better than anyone, had started to believe it.
There were times when she herself grew confused after hearing over and over about things she hadn’t done. Wondering if, perhaps, she truly had.
If not that…
‘Elise.’
Perhaps it was her ‘sister,’ who, for reasons unknown even to Kyrie, loathed her and had planted ideas in Lexion’s head.
It wasn’t difficult for Kyrie to picture Elise, bathed in blessings, standing as a bride. But the image never stayed long in her mind, because she simply didn’t care.
Only one regret gnawed at her.
That she hadn’t, back when she’d gone to the Grand Duke’s estate, forced a promise from him, or even given herself to him.
The image of that man, smirking as he looked down at her bare feet, flickered through her mind.
The man who had fixated on her dirtied white feet, as if fastening a shackle around her ankle.
It was when a parched heat rose again in Kyrie’s throat.
“If it were me, I’d be asking a little more politely for leniency.”
Lexion’s voice cut through, severing her thoughts.
“Leniency? I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.”
Kyrie let out a laugh of pure disbelief.
Unfazed, Lexion’s brow furrowed slightly as he caught the tips of her hair near his nose.
Then, without warning, his hand gripped her hair as if about to tear it out.
“…Your Highness.”
Kyrie’s brow knit as Lexion spoke in a cold, flat voice.
“Why not tack on the title of ‘lecherous woman’ to ‘mad dog’ while you’re at it?”
“……”
“Oh, wait you already have, haven’t you? All those years chasing after me.”
Kyrie couldn’t fathom the reason behind Lexion’s sudden fury. She merely shifted her gaze toward him.
“I was even willing to take you as my mistress if you begged, Kyrie.”
“…What did you just say?”
“Better that than a convent, wouldn’t you agree?”
Even as Kyrie gaped in sheer astonishment, Lexion’s eyes were deathly serious.
‘He meant it.’
And, in his own way, it was an act of consideration.
After all, this woman chased me for years.
Lexion, despite growing weary of Kyrie Ehrenberg, had grown accustomed to her presence. Wherever he went, there she’d be, standing quietly in a corner, flashing him that dazzling smile.
The woman who hovered around him, discreetly chasing away insignificant noble ladies from his orbit.
If she had pursued him that persistently, it meant he must be important to her.
The promise he’d once made to her had long since faded from his mind, replaced by the simple fact that this woman wanted him.
And that gave Lexion a certain satisfaction.
The satisfaction of being so desperately desired by someone. The satisfaction of having the power to toy with someone’s fate at will.
A satisfaction he’d inherited from his father, but one he’d never been able to freely express under his shadow.
Lexion had liked Kyrie Ehrenberg, the woman who would lower her lashes and smile whenever he changed his mood and beckoned her to sit by his side.
The perverse pleasure of being able to tame, alone, the so-called ‘mad dog’ that others had long given up on.
“The mad dog seems to truly love His Highness.”
“Isn’t it ridiculous? No matter how violently she acts, she softens before him.”
At some point, Lexion began to believe it.
That Kyrie truly loved him.
That the notorious ‘mad dog,’ who bared her fangs at everyone else, adored and obsessed over him alone, it was a sweet notion.
And that sense of superiority doubled once Elise Ehrenberg entered the picture and gave him her heart as well.
“For not just one, but both daughters of the illustrious Ehrenberg family to fall for His Highness…”
“As expected of such a supreme, noble person.”
After making a scene on the annex stairs and, in a fit of pique, announcing his relationship with Elise, Lexion had been showered with such flattery from sycophantic nobles.
And listening to them, it did seem so.
He was the empire’s sole crown prince, beloved by not one but two daughters of a prestigious house.
“Then why settle for just one?”
He would wed Elise Ehrenberg and make her his crown princess, while keeping Kyrie Ehrenberg as his mistress.
Whomever he married, the dowry and titles the Duke had promised would be his all the same.
Surely Kyrie herself would eagerly agree.
But then, Kyrie came back reeking of another man’s scent.
Even after days confined in this room, that scent clung to her, stubborn, unwashed, persistent.
And it wasn’t the first time.
Even when she had come charging toward him after catching sight of him with Elise, she’d reeked of strong cigar smoke.
‘Who the hell was it?’
In truth, he had a feeling he knew. It was a scent strangely familiar to him. And just that thought was enough to gnaw at him.
“I told you to disappear!”
Instinctively, he had shouted and shoved her down the stairs. The woman had been carried off in her cousin’s arms.
Even as he fussed over Elise, Lexion’s gaze had kept drifting back to the limp, unconscious Kyrie Ehrenberg.
She’ll be fine.
She’d be fine. She loved him. She had no other choice.
A minor humiliation like that wouldn’t change her heart.
But then Lexion learned she hadn’t returned to the ducal estate.
“Kyrie Ehrenberg didn’t come home?”
“No, Your Highness. Is there a problem…?”
Remembering the dimwitted face of the Duke’s second son as he’d answered, Lexion’s expression twisted.
And so he’d spoken those words.
“Of course there’s a problem. The woman who pushed my fiancée ought to be punished, and she’s nowhere to be found?”
The fools in the ducal estate, oblivious to the truth and entirely uninterested in it, had erupted in a frenzy.
And with a single word from the Duke, Kyrie had been condemned to a convent.
And so they arrived at this point.
And yet still…
Even now, the scent of another man clung to her.
Lexion’s mood soured considerably. It was an unfamiliar sensation.
While he set his jaw, Kyrie let out a dry, bitter laugh.
‘Mistress?’
The sincerity in his eyes made it all the more ridiculous.
And what sickened her more was that in this situation, she actually found herself considering whether she ought to wager her lot on that possibility.
No.
But the hesitation didn’t last long.
She couldn’t trust a man this capricious.
Kyrie drew a slow, deep breath before replying.
“I never sought the position of mistress, Your Highness.”
At her words, Lexion’s eyes darkened faintly. He let out a sigh.
“Right… you wanted to be my wife, didn’t you?”
Kyrie’s lips curled into a faint, bitter smile. As always, he spoke as if bestowing some magnanimous favor.
“But being my mistress would afford you nearly the same advantages.”
“Advantages, you say.”
“You could love me, just as you always have.”
“I have no need for it.”
“…What?”
“I said, I don’t need it.”
As he saw the coldness return to her eyes, Lexion’s mouth twisted.
“So you’d rather go to a convent than be denied the chance to love me? How touching.”
“……”
“But I’ll tell you this, I would never make a mad dog like you my wife, Kyrie.”
Then, releasing her hair with a rough jerk, Lexion stormed out, his heavy footsteps echoing down the hallway.
Kyrie shook her head.
Only now did a bitter smile tug at her lips as she realized just how much pleasure it had given Lexion to subdue her in front of others.
But hadn’t the Grand Duke been no different?
“The heir who carries the disgrace of being a mad dog… how perfect.”
For some reason, those words resurfaced in Kyrie’s mind.
Not a soft recollection, but an itch so irritating she wanted to claw it away.
I know it’s over.
And yet, why did her thoughts keep circling back to that man?
Unable to shake off those scattered musings, Kyrie spent the night wide awake.
The next morning, the door creaked open again.
“It’s time to go, my lady.”
It was the ducal servants.
