CHAPTER 11……………………
“Would just a look be enough for you?”
Yuhan’s smooth, suggestive voice spread low between them.
Before she realized it, they were so close she could feel his breath. His gaze slid down from Sereret’s eyes to her lips.
“And what else will you give me, besides a look?”
Sereret asked, conscious of where his eyes lingered.
“A kiss filled with praise?”
“Would there really be praise in that kiss?”
It would be mockery, not praise. Scorn for a clueless, rustic woman. Her lips twisted bitterly.
“That’s something you could find out for yourself.”
Yuhan’s low voice brushed the edge of her ear as he lowered his gaze.
His eyes were fixed on her lips—full, soft, flushed. He didn’t look at anything else, as if nothing else existed.
The tension between them thickened. The air inside the carriage grew dangerously taut.
At last, his gaze lifted slowly from her lips back to her eyes. His look sought permission.
He had looked at her the same way their first night together. I won’t move unless you allow it—that was what his eyes had said.
She had been nothing but a vessel to bear his child, yet he had shown her that small courtesy. Yuhan Frextuster was, after all, a gentleman—or at least had worn that mask.
Back then, deceived by that gaze, she had blushed and smiled shyly. But the moment her consent slipped past her lips, Yuhan tore the gentleman’s mask away.
He had transformed instantly from gentleman to beast. His rough kisses and the hands that stripped her clothing could never be called gentlemanly.
He devoured her in an instant.
Because to Yuhan, Sereret Innoheter was never a lady. So he had no need to be a gentleman.
That night had never been about romance—just a means to an end. If she could return to that moment, she wouldn’t have smiled shyly. She would have spat in his face.
Sereret gave a bitter smile.
“I don’t think that’ll be necessary.”
With that, she leaned back, pulling away from him. What she had for him now wasn’t shy smiles but resentment and hatred.
Straightening her posture, she looked him squarely in the eye. Yuhan also sat back and curved his lips in a gentle smile.
“If you wish, you can always find out.”
His voice was lazy, his legs crossed, his expression alluring. A look Sereret knew well.
On the bed, he had often worn that same expression. Each time, she had been flustered, unsure what to do.
How much amusement it must have given him. To watch livestock pretend to be bashful, embarrassed.
Perhaps that was why he had tormented her so relentlessly. No matter how she begged—ashamed, humiliated, in pain—Yuhan had never stopped.
Even when she pleaded that she hated it, he broke her will and bent her to his own. In bed, Yuhan was never a gentleman. He was a tyrant, reigning over her.
“And why would I? I don’t need to.”
Sereret replied primly and turned her gaze to the window. She forced away the memories of her past life and focused on the streets, where darkness had begun to fall.
She felt his dogged stare clinging to her, but she never met his eyes. Until the carriage finally stopped, their gazes never aligned.
⚜ ⚜ ⚜
The Emperor’s grand banquet hall glittered with opulence, thronged with nobles.
Gathered in small groups, their faces were flushed with excitement. No trace of boredom—everyone seemed to have waited eagerly for this day.
They enjoyed themselves, but unlike them, Sereret sat in a corner with a glass of champagne, her expression weary.
From the moment she entered with Yuhan, curious eyes had followed her every step.
It was only natural: the country-bred fiancée of Duke Yuhan Frextuster was a novelty worth watching.
In her previous life, those stares had driven her nearly to fainting. But now, they didn’t faze her.
She had already lived through it once, and after experiencing death, few things could truly frighten her. Many of the faces were familiar, too—ones she had often seen at parties before.
Unlike in her past life, these curious gazes held no contempt or scorn. Instead, she sensed surprise and even admiration.
“She’s more elegant and beautiful than I expected.”
“The Duke of Frextuster has fine taste.”
“Her beauty rivals Lady Elliot’s.”
Recalling their whispered remarks, Sereret smirked faintly.
Just then, a herald announced the arrival of the imperial family. Sereret quickly set down her glass and straightened her posture.
The doors opened. The aging Emperor entered with the royals, moving toward their seats. Nobles bowed deeply, offering their greetings.
When it was done, Sereret lifted her eyes. Beside the Emperor sat Lydia Elliot.
Lydia was dazzling as always. Her thick brown hair cascaded in waves down her back, her pale blue eyes sparkled with vitality.
A green dress cinched at the waist with a white ribbon highlighted her beauty.
It was a dangerous kind of beauty—radiant, overwhelming, suffocating to anyone near her.
Sereret frowned slightly. Strictly speaking, Lydia was not royalty.
Yet there she sat, utterly confident. Truly the daughter of the Emperor’s most beloved mistress.
“Here you are.”
Yuhan approached her.
“Yes.”
Sereret glanced at him, answering indifferently.
“We must greet His Majesty.”
A flicker of annoyance crossed his face.
Only Yuhan Frextuster could treat an audience with the Emperor—an honor for a lifetime—with such nonchalance.
Sereret found herself quietly impressed by his unconcern.
“Yes, I understand.”
She took his arm, and together they approached. In her past life, standing before the Emperor had made her voice tremble like a bleating goat.
But tonight, she felt no fear. Matching Yuhan’s impassive expression, she stood before the Emperor.
“Glorious light of the Empire, I greet Your Majesty.”
Yuhan bowed with flawless courtesy.
“Glorious light of the Empire, I greet Your Majesty.”
Sereret followed his lead.
“So you are the Duke of Frextuster’s betrothed.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Sereret replied with an elegant smile.
“Mm. I see.”
The Emperor nodded, though his face betrayed some displeasure.
At that moment, Sereret felt a sharp gaze on her. She turned and met Lydia’s cold eyes.
But as soon as their eyes locked, Lydia smiled sweetly, as if nothing had happened. Turning to the Emperor, she spoke brightly.
“Your Majesty, I happened to meet Lady Innoheter the other day outside the dressmaker’s.”
“Is that so?”
The Emperor answered her with uncharacteristic gentleness.
“She had reserved the dressmaker, so I could only exchange greetings outside. I wasn’t able to go in. Isn’t that right, Lady Innoheter?”
Lydia’s words subtly shifted blame onto Sereret. Because of you, I couldn’t enter. Sereret’s smile wavered faintly.
“The Duke happened to make the reservation that day. That’s why.”
Sereret smoothly passed the responsibility onto Yuhan. Not me—him. Her smile steadied.
“Oh my, how thoughtful of him. Because of that, I missed the dress I wanted.”
Lydia batted her lashes at Yuhan. Sereret’s smile twitched.
The way Lydia playfully complained to him made Sereret’s insides churn. She wanted nothing more than to announce their broken engagement and storm out.
“Yes.”
Yuhan replied flatly.
His face showed no interest. But to Sereret, it looked like a mask deliberately worn.
“The dress you wanted?”
The Emperor turned to Lydia.
“The one Lady Innoheter is wearing. I had my eyes on it.”
Lydia answered coyly, smiling up at him. Sereret was dumbfounded.
Madame Varne had sworn this dress had been shown to no one else.
And yet? Sereret’s eyes narrowed. Lydia always knew how to unsettle and corner people like this.
Memories of past humiliations flooded her, and she found it impossible to smile.
“You should have ordered another made.”
“How could I? To appear at a ball wearing the same dress as Lady Innoheter? Someone would be made a laughingstock.”
Lydia’s answer to the Emperor was clear: that laughingstock would have been Sereret.
Feigning ignorance, Sereret smiled gently and replied.
“Had I known Lady Elliot had her eye on this dress, I would never have chosen it. Madame Varne said nothing, and so I made a mistake. I beg your forgiveness.”
“Oh! Don’t say that, Lady Innoheter. In fact, I’m glad—it suits you far better.”
Whether to hide her pettiness or protect her image, Lydia waved her hands quickly.
“Thank you for saying so.”
Sereret smiled again. Lydia returned the smile, but behind their lips, their eyes clashed coldly.
“From Mosheli, are you?”
The Crown Prince addressed them. At last, Sereret turned away from Lydia.
“Yes, Your Highness,” she replied.
“I’ve heard much about Mosheli’s beauty. I should like to visit someday,” said the Crown Princess.
“It would be Mosheli’s greatest honor to host Your Highness,” Sereret answered politely.
“Perhaps we should spend this year’s retreat there?”
The Crown Prince turned to his wife.
“You’re busy every day,” she chided lightly, smiling. He chuckled sheepishly.
“Then when we do, we’ll stay with House Innoheter.”
“You would be welcome anytime, Your Highness,” Sereret replied with a gracious smile, though inwardly she thought: Or not at all.
After a brief exchange, she and Yuhan withdrew. They were about to return to their place when Lydia called out.
“Yuhan.”
The name, spoken so fondly, made Sereret’s lips curl crookedly. Yuhan turned toward Lydia.
Go on then, the two of you—have at it, Sereret muttered inwardly, starting to leave.
But Yuhan caught her arm, keeping her at his side. She had no choice but to remain.
A fleeting look of dissatisfaction passed over Lydia’s face.
“Speak, Lady Elliot,” Yuhan prompted politely, unlike Lydia, who had called him by name.
“Would you give me the first dance?” Lydia asked.
