~Chapter 5~
Lovelace stood on the stair landing, looking down at the bustling hall below. The Duke’s servants moved with mechanical precision, never tiring.
Even with dozens of people moving about, not one of them got in each other’s way.
“Aaaah, I’m ruined! Please, just end me now, Mr. Butler! I—I miscounted the silver spoons! There was one extra!”
A sudden shout disrupted the peaceful and orderly hall. The man who shouted was like a marble knocking over a row of dominoes.
The quiet hall fell into instant silence.
“What did you just say?” came the frosty voice of Davidson, his usual gentle expression gone. He always treated Lovelace with the utmost courtesy and softness, so this side of him felt completely unfamiliar.
“I—I miscounted the spoons…”
Davidson let out a deep sigh, as if the weight of the world had landed on his shoulders, and rubbed his forehead.
“Lock him in the underground prison. Make sure His Grace never lays eyes on him.”
Two large men appeared from nowhere, seized the trembling servant by the shoulders, and dragged him off. His cries for mercy echoed throughout the hall.
“What are the rest of you waiting for? Get back to work!”
With Davidson’s sharp command, the momentary pause vanished and the servants resumed their tasks at full speed.
Lovelace grasped the dust-free stair rail tightly and stood there, as if rooted in place, watching the frenzied yet fearful activity below.
“You out of your mind? The lace is unraveling! And you were going to use this for the wedding?! Are you asking to die?”
A hissing whisper caught her attention.
When Lovelace turned her head, she spotted a young girl—maybe thirteen—trembling with a lace tablecloth in her hands. In front of her stood a maid, likely just newly of age, scolding her harshly.
“I’m sorry. I’ll mend it right away.”
“Mend it? Where do I even begin with you? This house isn’t so poor that we need to mend things. What do you think His Grace would say if he saw something patched?”
Despite the older maid’s effort to keep her voice down, her rising agitation made every word clearly audible to Lovelace.
“What would he do?” the young maid asked, lifting her wide eyes. The older one glanced around, then ran a finger across her throat.
“He’d have you executed.”
Tears welled up in the girl’s eyes, threatening to fall any second.
Lovelace shook her head in disbelief.
There was no stopping the sigh that escaped her lips.
Unable to watch anymore, she turned and headed back to her room. She just wanted to rest—see nothing, hear nothing.
But she wasn’t alone.
“The bride-to-be smiled in bliss as her wedding day approached.”
Thud. The sound of a book closing.
Lovelace lowered her chin from her hand and turned. Larvihan was leaning against the doorframe, looking straight at her.
“What is it?”
“A book.”
He walked over and placed it on the table.
“101 Ways to Be a Happy Bride?”
What in the world kind of book is this?
Lovelace picked it up with two fingers, as if it were something dirty.
“How strange. It says here that a bride-to-be can’t wipe the smile off her face. But our bride looks like she’s full of complaints.”
Larvihan sat down directly across from her.
There were plenty of seats—plush sofas, the bed, armchairs. Why he always had to sit right in front of her was a mystery.
“It’s nothing.”
“Then the author must be wrong. I’ll go take care of it.”
Larvihan stood up.
“Where are you going?”
“To kill the author.”
“Why?”
The question came out reflexively.
“For spreading false rumors.”
“Let’s just say it’s case by case. The author isn’t wrong—we’re just… special.”
“I’m glad you think our relationship is special.”
Sure, interpret it however you want. Lovelace turned back toward the window, too tired to argue.
Larvihan looked at the side of her face for a moment. She was clearly different today. The Lovelace he’d gotten to know was full of energy, bright, cheerful.
Even when she was pushed to take responsibility for something she didn’t understand, or when she woke up in unfamiliar places, or saw things that would make any normal woman faint—she still managed to turn it all around with her own unique logic and positivity.
But today, her sulky pout just wouldn’t go away.
“Not very entertaining today. Did someone upset you?”
Lovelace turned to glance at him. Larvihan took that moment to look out the window. The garden was swarming with movement from the staff.
“Did someone make a mistake around you?”
“…”
She hesitated, unsure who he meant or what he was getting at.
“Shall I kill them for you?”
He pushed again, gently but with intensity.
“No, it’s fine.”
Why do I even bother talking? Lovelace waved her hand dismissively.
“You saw, didn’t you? I’m quite good with a blade. Arms, legs, shoulders, neck—very clean cuts.”
You lunatic, that’s nothing to brag about!
“No one! There’s no one! That’s not why I’m upset!”
She shouted before clamping her mouth shut.
“Then tell me. Who’s troubling you?”
If you want to know what a predator stalking its prey looks like, just look at Larvihan right now. Lovelace swallowed hard.
“I’m telling you, I’ll take care of them. Just say the word.”
What kind of face would he make if she told him he was the cause of her misery?
Would he threaten to end his life? Say something ridiculous like slicing his own wrist?
Lovelace became curious. She raised the corner of her lips. Larvihan’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“Larvihan Vallios.”
“What?”
“You’re the one who’s been tormenting me.”
Larvihan frowned and let out a troubled laugh.
“Is that so?”
Why… why did his gently smiling eyes suddenly look wounded? Why did that look make her feel so overwhelmingly guilty?
Lovelace shut her eyes tightly.
You dumb girl. Letting his face get to you again.
“…No.”
“I’m glad to hear that. I can’t kill myself, and I definitely can’t kill you.”
Hic. A hiccup escaped her.
Why did that sound scarier than an actual death threat?
Larvihan smiled mysteriously and rested both hands on the table.
“Still, I’ll listen to your complaints.”
Lovelace narrowed her brows, staring at him suspiciously.
“You’re not going to kill me?”
“I can’t. You know that.”
He held up his hands like a general who had lost everything, smiling innocently.
That’s right—he couldn’t kill her.
Kill her? No—based on everything he’d done so far, he didn’t even want her to get hurt.
Because what he wants is inside me.
Lovelace touched her belly intentionally. Larvihan caught the gesture and glanced sideways at her as he sipped his tea. His relaxed demeanor only made her angrier.
“I wasn’t going to say this, but honestly, you’re kind of a bandit.”
“Come again?”
Even though he replied with his usual smooth smile, the brief stillness in his lips made the hairs on her neck stand up. But she couldn’t back down now. If she did, nothing would change.
And he told her to speak her mind. So Lovelace—when it suited her—was obedient.
“Isn’t that what you’re doing? I didn’t eat it knowingly. It was an accident. And now, because of that one thing, you’re trying to turn a young, innocent woman who’s never even dated into your wife overnight? Honestly, part of this is your fault for not taking better care of it.”
She knew it was nonsense, but the words just wouldn’t stop.
Clink. Larvihan set down his teacup. The air between them grew thick. Around their table, time itself seemed to slow.
“…Feel better now that you’ve blamed me?”
He leaned forward.
Was the table always this small? He was close enough that even a small movement would bring their hands together.
“…A little.”
Letting it all out really had helped her mood.
Larvihan chuckled softly. A breeze flowed through the open window, stirring her hair and tickling her face. She frowned instinctively.
Just as she raised her hand to brush it back, Larvihan was faster. He reached out and gently tucked her hair behind her ear. When his fingers touched her forehead, Lovelace instinctively flinched.
He paused, then let out a short laugh.
“Are you scared of me?”
She shook her head.
“It’s okay to admit it. If fear makes you more obedient, I’ll be even more grateful.”
“No! It’s just… you smell nice…”
She clamped her mouth shut mid-sentence. Larvihan’s eyes crinkled with amusement.
