Chapter 3
…I wasn’t swayed just because he was handsome. Still, I headed to the tower where the spy was being held, with Lockhart by my side.
On our way from the main palace to the northern tower, I spotted Dioana and Jeremy in the distance.
Since they were at a curious age, I didn’t want them to witness anything unpleasant. I hurried Lockhart along and entered the tower.
At the top of the stairs, we found a small room.
As soon as I arrived, the guards saluted and quickly opened the door. They were visibly tense—clearly rattled by the news of a spy infiltrating the estate.
To think they allowed an intruder into Steren Castle. I felt a strong urge to discipline them immediately, but punishment could wait.
Inside, a man sat tied up, his face covered by a sack, with various torture tools and a furnace behind him—an unpleasant sight.
Lockhart swiftly removed the cloth covering the man’s face.
The man’s head immediately dropped, hiding his features. But even from a glance, it was obvious he was filthy.
I pulled a handkerchief from my chest pocket, placed it on my palm, and gently lifted the man’s chin. The moment our eyes met, his widened slightly.
Huh? What’s with this guy?
Despite the scabs and grime on his face, his lips curved into a crescent-shaped smile. Then, in a voice full of desperate longing, he spoke:
“Master!”
“Master?”
Everyone tilted their heads in confusion.
The man leaned forward as if he had just reunited with a long-lost loved one, struggling against his bindings until Lockhart punched him to calm him down.
“Your Grace, do you know this man?” Lockhart asked.
I glanced at the man briefly before feigning ignorance.
Trying to hide my flustered expression, I looked off into the distance.
“No. I’ve never seen this man in my life.”
“But he called you ‘master’?”
“Master, my foot. You must have misheard, Lockhart.”
…I should’ve sounded calmer. But I was so flustered that my voice cracked. Lockhart’s suspicious gaze only deepened.
Was my feigned ignorance not enough?
Whether he was clueless or just cunning, the man ended up stirring more trouble.
“Didn’t you take me in three years ago, Master? You brought me here yourself. You even called me ‘darling.’”
“What? How dare you disrespect Her Grace! Shall I rip out your tongue to teach you some manners?”
Lockhart, enraged, looked ready to carry out the threat himself. The guards quickly restrained the man’s face and shoulders.
As Lockhart approached with a tongue-pulling torture device, I intervened.
“Stop, Lockhart. That won’t be necessary.”
“But Your Grace!”
“He’s telling the truth. I did purchase him three years ago during my travels abroad. I received the urgent telegram and rushed back to the north, completely forgetting about his whereabouts.”
Lockhart’s mouth fell open. He looked doubtful.
Honestly, so was I. I couldn’t believe it myself. So this guy… was that guy?
A headache began to form. I rubbed my forehead and slowly shook my head. Meanwhile, that damn intruder kept beaming at me.
“You remember me, right, Master?”
“Haaah…”
“Is what he’s saying true, Your Grace? You truly know this spy? Please explain yourself, Your Grace!”
One person was jumping for joy, the other for an explanation. And caught in the middle, I swayed like a reed in the wind, silently cursing my once-decadent past.
“If only I hadn’t taken him in that day, three years ago…”
I suddenly wanted to mess up my hair or beat my chest in frustration.
* * *
Since I was eight years old, I had been trained in swordsmanship and self-defense by my older brother, the future Duke of the North.
For thirteen years, I never skipped a single day of training. Inheriting our blessed bloodline, I became skilled enough to stand my ground against even the empire’s top-ranking knights.
Sure, I lacked in brute force when it came to brawling, but purely in terms of swordsmanship—
There was no reason for a curious, fearless, wealthy woman not to travel the world.
So, on my twentieth birthday, I packed light and set off on a world tour, backed by a bottomless family fortune.
It wasn’t a pilgrim’s hardship-filled journey, but a lavish one, full of joy and indulgence, fueled by wealth like a never-drying spring.
Usually, I’d return home in two or three months. Sometimes it was six months, sometimes a whole year. My brother would joke in his letters, asking if I’d only show up again when I died, or if I’d secretly settled down abroad.
Half true, half false.
I hadn’t settled down abroad, but I had encountered much—academics, art, and… many men.
Young, rich, noble, and full of energy—how many men would reject the hand of a woman like me?
That morning, I awoke in a king-sized, soft, luxurious bed and turned to look beside me.
Dark black hair, thick eyebrows, long shadowed lashes, a high-bridged nose, and full, kissable lips.
A muscular yet shy-looking man slept beside me, blanket pulled up to his chest. Beyond him, the blue sea stretched in waves.
“This is it.”
Yes, this was it. This was true happiness.
I smiled with satisfaction, stretched my sore body from the night’s activities, and headed straight to the shower.
“To think I can bathe in warm water even in the middle of the sea. What a marvelous invention.”
Of course, I was the one who created this entire world’s setting.
After giving myself a mental round of applause, I washed thoroughly, stepped out of the steamy shower in a robe, and hummed a happy tune.
At that moment, staff entered and laid out a breakfast set—morning coffee and a bagel with cream cheese.
Just as I was about to take a sip, the man on the bed stirred.
Still half-asleep, he looked around dazedly and then locked eyes with me at the table.
“Awake, darling?”
On good mornings, I was kind enough to call even a one-night partner “darling.”
The unfamiliar term made the black-haired man blink in confusion before he smiled and sat up.
“Come eat. The bagel’s yours.”
“…And you?”
“I’m full already.”
As I said this, his ears turned red. That innocent face had hidden a beast in bed, which made him all the more appealing.
“Thank you for last night,” he said.
He reached for the clothes scattered on the floor, but as he lifted them, it was clear the frills and buttons were torn to shreds.
I clicked my tongue in embarrassment. That had definitely been my doing.
“Don’t put those on. I’ll bring you something new. And no need to thank me. I just liked you, that’s all.”
The man paused and stared at me. He was quite intriguing.
Though purchased from a slave market, he spoke fluent Manua imperial language, acted like a noble, yet still watched others’ moods carefully.
Most strikingly—he dared meet my eyes.
No man had ever done that. Regardless of status, they all lowered their gaze before me.
But this man…
“What’s your name?”
“I don’t have one. A slave’s name is given by the master.”
“What did your previous master call you?”
He only smiled in response.
Cheeky, for a slave. I chuckled quietly.
He had to be the son of a fallen noble house.
How else could a slave from the market look me straight in the eye with such a confident smile?
“You don’t want to say? Fine. I don’t need to know.”
“If you named me, it would be an honor.”
Even the way he spoke sounded aristocratic. That settled it.
“Why should I? I’ll just call you by your real name. What, does it hurt your pride to admit it?”
A nobleman forced into slavery was bound to meet a tragic end.
If I hadn’t bought him, he’d probably have been dragged into another lady’s bed by now.
Though, in the end, he was just a one-night stand for me anyway.
“…It’s not that.”
“Whether it is or not, too bad. I don’t intend to give you a name. Where I live, slavery is outlawed. We’re probably already in imperial waters. Legally, you’re now a free citizen. So you’re not my slave. Never intended for you to be one. Once we dock, go your own way.”
“What about you?”
