Chapter 3: A Night of Humiliation
Eleanor bit her lip.
Under his unrelenting gaze, she couldn’t hide her emotions like she usually did. She could only let out a shaky breath, wishing the moonlight would hide everything.
“Why aren’t you saying anything?”
Why do you only speak during moments like this?
Eleanor wanted to mock him, but she saw the slight shift in his eyes—he was already annoyed. Kylus leaned down further. His breath tickled her collarbone.
“Why are you acting like a different person?”
She knew what he meant.
Normally, Eleanor would poke at him with words, and Kylus would glare coldly and walk away. But in moments like these, their roles are reversed.
That’s why she wanted to cry.
“Eleanor.”
“…”
His breath brushed her neck.
Then his lips slowly moved across her skin—soft, almost gentle.
It was the kind of touch that made her imagine, even for a second, that he truly desired her as a wife. That illusion made her heart ache.
“Your heart’s racing too.”
She felt so many emotions all at once—hatred, frustration, and something more.
From the very beginning, her heart had always reacted to this man. He once saved her, and she saved him too. She had clung to those memories just to survive.
But now… now she remained by his side only as the daughter of his enemy. Her heart was a tangled mess of hate, pain, regret—and love.
“Like a normal couple…”
Even though saying it made her feel sick, his voice still sounded beautiful to her.
How pathetic, this foolish love.
Then Kylus opened his mouth again.
Almost as if he wanted to stop her from thinking, his lips pressed to the sensitive skin of her neck.
Ah! Her body flinched.
“Ugh—”
She instinctively grabbed his hair and tightly shut her eyes. His large hands pulled her waist, stopping her from escaping.
His touch stung.
“I don’t understand you.”
“…”
“You act like you hate me.”
“…”
“What are you even thinking?”
He was surprisingly rough—and burning hot.
Maybe “passionate couple” wasn’t the wrong term after all.
But a relationship without love… that was the real pain.
Every time their skin touched, it felt like her heart—her feelings for him—were being torn apart and mocked.
Just a reminder: this was only physical.
“Ah…”
When he’d had enough, Kylus raised his head.
His eyes were relaxed now, like a satisfied beast. That made it worse.
Don’t look at me like that.
Don’t make me misunderstand you.
Eleanor wanted to scream. Or maybe beg.
Then, suddenly, his thumb touched her cheek.
It felt like he was tracing where a bruise used to be—one she had hidden with medicine.
‘Get away.’
She tried to turn away.
“Look at me, Eleanor.”
…But he grabbed her chin.
Her golden hair tangled in his large hand.
“Wasn’t this what you wanted? For me to play the role of a fine stud?”
His mocking words were just like usual—sharp and cruel.
Words that pierced her heart.
Was this her punishment for seeking out the only time this cold man let himself go?
So painful. Yet so sweet it made her cry.
“So remember this well, Eleanor.”
He started moving.
Hot, mechanical, shallow breaths.
“Smile. Look into my eyes. Hold me.”
His hands were rough, leaving what felt like burns on her skin.
“Pretend you love it. Act like you’re thrilled.”
Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes.
“Isn’t that the only way this time—this awful moment—will feel a little better?”
She wanted to say something.
‘You’re the one who thinks it’s awful.’
A relationship without love or warmth was cruelly lonely.
But soon the heat overwhelmed everything, and Eleanor let her thoughts melt away.
Words didn’t matter.
She held the man she loved and hated with the same arms.
She traced the firm muscles on his back, familiar now, and dug her nails in, clinging to the one moment she could fully hold him.
* * *
“Ugh…”
Morning sunlight pierced through the window as Eleanor slowly opened her eyes.
A dull pain throbbed through her whole body.
She reached out—but only touched the empty side of the bed.
Of course.
A bitter laugh escaped her lips.
What had Kylus said on their first night, after their lifeless act as husband and wife?
“Am I supposed to take care of you even after my duty is done?”
Those cruel words had made her go silent.
Nothing’s changed since then.
Eleanor slowly sat up.
The bedsheet slipped off her shoulders, and her reflection came into view in the mirror.
Her pale skin was covered with red marks—like flowers blooming across her body.
The man who once left no marks now seemed obsessed with leaving them.
But it didn’t matter.
Maybe before, she would’ve tried to find meaning in each one. But now…
Cough!
Those thoughts belonged to people who had more life ahead of them.
“I’m dirty now.”
Eleanor looked down calmly at the blood in her palm.
“You have less than a year left to live.”
Yes. Her father—Count Grace—was a careful, calculating man.
The fish they had let go — they were so afraid it might change its mind that they poisoned it before setting it free. And as if that wasn’t enough, the antidote they sent every month… was actually a deadly poison that slowly killed her.
Even worse, it was a horrifying poison created with one cruel idea in mind — even if she died, it would keep her womb alive, so the baby inside her could be removed and stored magically in an artificial womb.
When Eleanor overheard this plan, she nearly vomited in disgust.
Yes, it was after learning everything that Eleanor finally decided to end it all — to finish what she had been foolishly dragging on.
To the bitter, bitter end.
Kylus… I just wanted to delay the moment of letting you go.
Because once everything was over, she could no longer be called his wife.
In the end, her love had been her weakness.
But she couldn’t delay it anymore.
As soon as she put on her nightgown, she pulled the bell cord by the bed. Then something unexpected happened.
With a quiet clank, a door appeared in the wall, and a man stepped inside.
He had pale skin, a face like a beautiful sculpture, eyes blue like a dream, and silver hair that shone like frost.
Who would’ve known there was a secret passage in the Duchess’s bedroom?
And—
“Master, why did you wait so long to call me? I’ve been waiting for you.”
That Eleanor had been secretly raising her own people.
“Siran.”
The silver-haired man knelt, looking sorrowful.
Eleanor sighed painfully, thinking about this loyal man and the people who followed him.
“Come here.”
“…Did you cough up blood again?”
“It’s fine. It doesn’t hurt.”
He crawled on his knees and carefully wiped the blood off her hand with a handkerchief.
Eleanor smiled faintly at the concern in his eyes.
“What about the order I gave?”
He looked upset, but he knew how much she had worked for this moment.
“…It’s done. All the evidence has been delivered to the Duke. But master, once this begins, there’s no turning back. And at the end of it…”
“Yes, I know.”
It would mean her father’s death — and hers.
Eleanor smiled brightly.
“I can’t go alone, right? Father won’t be lonely at the end.”
“Master…”
Just then, they heard laughter outside the open window.
Ah…
Eleanor narrowed her eyes.
Even without looking, she knew what was happening under the sunny sky in the garden below.
Kylus’s lover — the woman who stole her husband.
Everyone in the Duke’s household loved her.
To Eleanor, she was nothing but a fake, a shameless mistress. But to the world, she was a savior.
Back when Kylus was a child, in a desperate moment when he was captured by his enemies, a girl had saved him.
When the young Duke returned home, all he remembered were two things:
The girl had bright red eyes.
And she gave him an old, rough handkerchief.
Since the only evidence was the red eyes, many girls claimed they were the one who saved him.
Then one day, a woman appeared and told a story no one else knew — about the handkerchief she had tied around the boy’s injured wrist.
That woman was Katrina Blanche.
So, everyone in House Carniel believed she was the one who saved Kylus.
All because of that one small story.
Eleanor couldn’t help but think:
Where did that woman hear the story? Who told her? Why does everyone believe her so easily?
But that wasn’t the important thing right now.
Eleanor’s vision blurred.
They treat me like the villain… and adore her.
Even her cold, ice-hearted mother-in-law smiled like a girl when she was with Katrina.
They probably looked like a loving mother and daughter now, laughing together in the garden.
Once, Eleanor had dreamed she might smile like that too.
“Siran.”
“Yes, Master. Tell me.”
He leaned against her hand lovingly, not caring that her hand was stained with blood. His skin was warm.
“You must survive.”
“…What do you mean?”
She stroked his face gently.
“When the plan starts, take our people and run far away.”
“What?”
His wide eyes trembled in confusion.
He looked desperate — like he couldn’t leave her.
Eleanor hoped he would listen.
“You’ve worked so hard.”
“N-no… Please, Master! Let me stay with you! Please let me be with you until the end!”
No, she couldn’t let that happen.
He had helped her deceive everyone.
Helped her secretly pass her father’s secrets to her husband.
He had helped her set up the Emperor’s sword to strike down the Earl of Grace.
Without Siran, none of it would’ve been possible.
She couldn’t drag him into death with her.
“You have to take care of your people.”
“But…”
“This is my last order. You must follow it.”
“…Master.”
Leaving the crying Siran behind, Eleanor slowly turned around.
Many people would die. Many people would cry.
But Eleanor… was looking forward to what would happen in a few days.
* * *
A storm swept through the peaceful capital.
The treason of the Grace family had been exposed.
The Emperor, who had remained patient for ten years, finally drew his sword.
And the name of that sword—was Duke Carniel.
The same man who had lost his father and older brother to the Grace family.
The man who was forced to marry the enemy’s daughter — Eleanor.
