MCFWC Chapter 11

Chapter 11 

Hares Irisel had always believed — with absolute certainty — that there would never be a better friend in his life than Lize Chelsea.

They had grown up together since childhood, almost like siblings. They knew each other better than anyone else, and their bond was easy, natural, and comfortable.

And no, “comfortable” didn’t mean boring.

Lize Chelsea, with her soft brown hair fluttering like that of a cheerful puppy, always dragged him around everywhere. She was curious, honest, clumsy — and irresistibly endearing.

They laughed and argued over the silliest things. She was mischievous yet serious when it mattered, and whenever he was down, she was the one who comforted him without judgment.

She was genuine. A friend he could be stupid in front of — and still be accepted.

Hares respected her deeply.

More than that — she had been part of more than half his life.

That’s how important Lize was to him.

And never once had she been a sexual being in his eyes.

Sometimes, though, men would say disgusting things about her.

“Come on, she’s easy, right? Her parents are always abroad, no one to watch her. She’s got that cute, droopy-eyed face. And her body — sure, she dresses modestly, but you can tell she’s got a nice chest under there…”

Those filthy jokes — made by cowards who thought he wasn’t around.

Men who pretended to be gentlemen in front of women, but behind their backs, rated them like objects — bragging about sleeping with maids or gossiping about which noblewoman had the best figure.

Hares would just let out a quiet, dangerous laugh behind them.

And then? He would challenge them to duels.

Officially, they used wooden swords. But Hares always used his fists.

He’d smash their faces, break a bone or two — enough that they couldn’t lift a weapon for weeks.

After that, no one dared to say anything vulgar about Lize Chelsea again.

Until one idiot, freshly arrived in society, decided to test him.

“You’re talking about my friend with that filthy mouth of yours?”

The other men around him froze, faces pale. The loudmouthed one turned, blinking, and met Hares’s gaze.

“You must’ve heard, right? I’m the kind of bastard who goes rabid if someone so much as mentions Lize Chelsea in the wrong way.”

“S-Sir Hares Irisel, I didn’t mean it like that—”

The boy stammered, and Hares stepped closer, his voice low and calm, almost lazy.

“Do you ever look in a mirror? Your head’s so big it looks like a moon, your nose is huge, your eyes are tiny — all out of proportion. Like a squid that crawled out of the sea and decided to start talking trash.”

“I wasn’t talking about Lady Chel—Chelsea, I swear!”

“You think you can call her Lize? Only I can do that. You will address her as Lady Chelsea or the Count’s daughter, you little piece of trash.”

Hares smiled coldly, his eyes still curved in a deceptively gentle way.

“Come outside.”

“W-what?”

“I’m challenging you to a duel. Either face me properly with a sword, or kneel here and promise — in front of everyone — that you’ll never speak filth about Lady Chelsea or any other lady again.”

Everyone knew Hares was a monster with a sword — or without one.
That murderous look in his eyes wasn’t bluff; it was the gaze of a man who’d already seen blood.

The boy crumbled immediately, falling to his knees.

“S-sorry! I-I’ll never speak that way again! Not about Lady Chelsea or any other lady!”

“Good. Keep that disgusting mouth of yours shut. I could smell the stench of your words from across the room.”

Then Hares pressed his boot against the boy’s head.

It was a humiliating act — but who could protest? He was a noble of far higher rank, with the power and skill to back it.

“Get out of my sight. And don’t you dare set foot in this clubhouse again. I don’t want low-class, filthy animals like you tainting the air.”

He raised his voice just enough for the manager to hear. The guards moved instantly.

“Y-yes, I’ll leave! Agh—!”

The idiot was dragged out by the guards before he could even get up on his own.

The room fell silent.

Hares looked around and said flatly,

“Let me be clear — what you do privately isn’t my concern. But if I hear any more remarks like that, I will report it as sexual harassment.”

No one dared respond.

Hares had always personally crushed anyone who dared to see Lize that way.

So why…

“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath later that night.

Why had he just done the same thing himself?

It had been the first time he’d ever been that close to a woman’s body — the soft warmth of Lize’s chest pressing against him.

He told himself he hadn’t thought anything — that he was too shocked to think.

But when he trudged home, his mind refused to calm down.

He knew perfectly well Lize hadn’t meant anything by it.

He’d seen how flustered and embarrassed she was.

The faint tears in her red eyes, the way her lips parted and closed helplessly, the damp rose-scented hair clinging to her shoulders…

Every bit of it screamed that she was a woman — delicate, beautiful, and close enough to touch.

‘Disgusting bastard.’

He’d looked at her like that.

The same Lize he’d always sworn to protect, the girl he thought of as a little sister.

And yet, over something so small… he’d wanted her.

He couldn’t understand it — couldn’t forgive himself.

But what made it worse was what happened later that night.

The heat. The unbearable heat that wouldn’t fade.

“Ugh… damn it,” he groaned.

He tried to push away the thoughts, to think of anything else — but the harder he fought it, the more vividly he remembered the feel of her.

The warmth. The softness. The way her thin pajamas had clung to her skin.

He knew it was wrong. He knew it.

But before he realized it, his mind had betrayed him.

He imagined pinning her wrist, sliding his hand under the fabric, kissing her neck, tasting her skin, watching her tremble beneath him.

He imagined her eyes — those gentle brown eyes — blurring with tears and pleasure.

He imagined taking her.

“Lize…”

Hares clenched his jaw, forcing himself to stop — to breathe.

He eventually calmed down, staring down at his wet palm in disgust.

‘So they were right — there’s no such thing as a perfect friendship between a man and a woman.’

He laughed bitterly.

And yet, even then, he knew one thing for sure — he didn’t want to ruin what they had.

He’d rather stay her lifelong friend than risk everything for a fleeting desire.

If he had to choose between a friend for life or a lover he might lose, he’d pick the first, every time.

Besides, it wasn’t like Lize liked him anyway.

‘She probably already likes someone else,’ he thought. ‘She just hasn’t told me who.’

He couldn’t let her know what kind of thoughts he’d had — how dirty and shameful they were.

She was too innocent. Too pure.

If one of them had to be the terrible person, it might as well be him.

Still, the shock wouldn’t fade.

He’d always thought of her as someone untouchable — like family. Someone he could never see that way.

And yet now, the idea of kissing her didn’t make him sick. It made him burn.

‘Even an animal would have more self-control than me.’

And then — the very next day.

Lize stood before him, her damp eyes steady and unwavering, and said clearly,

“I like you.”