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TCU 05

TCU

Chapter 5

Ramberta’s strength never once faltered—yet he broke her resistance as easily as bending a reed, pulling her close in one swift motion.

The faint scent of leather. The mingled fragrance of wind and wood. They drew near all at once.

ā€œā€¦ā€¦!ā€

Ramberta tried to cry out, but her lips were pressed against his shoulder—her voice smothered before it could form.

Unable to speak, she struggled instead. In her flailing, the tip of her nose brushed against his bare skin.

His nape—uncovered by cloth.

Desperation made her reckless. As if that were her only chance for salvation, Ramberta tilted her head and bit into his neck with all the strength she could muster.

ā€œā€¦ā€¦ā€

Yet even at that defiant act, the man didn’t let out a single breath.

Perhaps her teeth hadn’t sunk deep enough—his flesh felt unyieldingly firm—or perhaps she lacked the ruthless resolve to tear his flesh away.

Whatever the reason, he ignored it entirely. Holding her tight, he reached out, tilting his body slightly.

Ramberta’s frantic resistance burned through the last of her strength, and darkness began to press in before she could even decide to keep fighting.

ā€œIf you bare your teethā€¦ā€

The man’s voice slipped between breaths, a dry laugh threaded through it, as his rough hand slowly trailed down the back of her neck.

His palm was calloused, yet his touch grazed only the fine edges of her nerves, delicate as silk. Ramberta’s body flinched despite herself.

ā€œā€¦you should’ve had the resolve to bite.ā€

Even closing her eyes did not save her from the darkness. When she opened them, hoping for a hint of moonlight, the only thing she could see—mockingly—was him.

The faint light outlined his clothes and the hard curve of his neck.

The intruders crawling through the shadows beyond were hidden behind him. Shattering glass, someone’s cry, the crash of furniture—all of it faded beneath the weight of his low whisper, which pressed against her ears like iron.

ā€œAā€¦ā€

As she dumbly mouthed his voice, his fingers traced the corner of her lips, slowly.

She must have bitten hard; the dampness clung faintly to his fingertips as he brushed along her lips.

ā€œWait—wait, please….ā€

Her stammer barely left her mouth before his thumb pressed inside.

ā€œā€¦ā€¦!ā€

Ramberta’s eyes widened in shock, meeting his in silent protest—but he paid it no mind, his finger moving deeper, exploring.

Her tongue, pinned by surprise, stiffened helplessly—mirroring the panic in her heart.

ā€œYou can’t even bite now? Relax. I said it was a reward.ā€

A reward—how could this possibly be called that?

Humiliation and anger tangled within her, yet the calm, commanding rhythm of his voice carried an undeniable weight. Against her will, her body obeyed.

Her tongue, once frozen, betrayed her—curling slowly around his touch.

When she averted her gaze in shame, he laughed quietly and withdrew his hand.

She twisted her body, trying to break free, but he caught her arm and pressed her down easily, his body covering hers—an unmovable weight.

ā€œA candle’s light can’t protect anything, Ramberta Coronis.ā€

His voice was tranquil—so still it terrified her. His hand rose and rested at her throat.

ā€œSo this is what it’s about? You disgrace me, and now you’ll kill me? …Then make it quick.ā€

Resignation dulled her voice. She shut her eyes.

His hand tightened around her neck—yet not enough to bring pain, nor even suffocation.

ā€œI’ll give you a deep sleep. Rest well, my lady.ā€

Her breath slowed. The world turned black.


When Ramberta awoke, she jolted upright.

The air was thick with the sweetness of a sleep she hadn’t known in years.

Outside, the sky hung heavy and dark, the clouds swollen as if about to burst with rain. The light was so dim she couldn’t tell the time.

She turned her head. The candle on the nightstand had melted and toppled over. The chair that had stood by her bedside now sat neatly by the tea table, as if it had never moved.

ā€œIf someone’s decided to play a cruel joke on me… I’d almost prefer that. Did I really dream something like that?ā€

Her voice carried into the empty room.

There were no signs of intrusion. The faint scent of leather was gone. Even the window—half open, half shut—gave no clue whether it had been touched by human hands or merely by the wind.

She sighed, scanning the room. If a maid walked in and saw her like this, rumors would spread that their lady had begun losing her mind.

Still, it seemed no one had entered. That meant it was probably still early morning.

Erwin had told her the day before that by afternoon, they would be meeting noble envoys arriving to ā€œrepresentā€ their respective factions before her.

If the maids hadn’t yet come to wake her, she still had time to prepare.

After a moment’s hesitation, Ramberta reached for the bell cord and gave it a small pull.


By afternoon, the rain came down in earnest.

Thunder rolled. Lightning flashed across the sky, turning the world outside as dark as night. Rain hammered the windows in an unending rhythm—like a long, somber symphony.

There were many reception rooms within Coronis Castle, but Erwin had chosen one on the east wing, ground floor.

The furniture there was faded, the colors dull with age. It hadn’t been used in years. Servants rushed in, dusting and sweeping the place in a hurry.

ā€œIt’s fine,ā€ Erwin said, when Ramberta frowned. ā€œIt helps that there’s nothing here worth stealing.ā€

To her dismay, he even stopped a tall servant from removing cobwebs from the ceiling and knocked them down himself with the end of a broom.

But when one of the chairs wobbled under his hand, he barked for a replacement before turning back to her.

ā€œShall I step out for a moment? It’d be terrible if my dress caught dust,ā€ Ramberta said, lifting the hem of her deep green gown as the servants scrubbed the floor.

ā€œNo need. Today, let the dust fall where it may. Be a careless young lady who doesn’t notice such things.ā€

ā€œā€¦You’re sure you’re Erwin? I didn’t know you had a twin. Maybe I should check—just in case you’re an impostor.ā€

He gave a faint shrug. ā€œWhat makes you think that, my lady?ā€

ā€œWell, you’re Erwin. When I was little, you’d visit to teach my brother and me etiquette, right? Vanessa said you’d inspect every corridor, every room, and drive everyone mad with how strict you were.ā€

ā€œThere’s a time for everything,ā€ he said mildly. ā€œBack then, the young master and you were learning. Observation teaches as much as instruction.ā€

Around them, several older servants shot him sharp looks—memories of his fastidiousness still fresh. But mostly, their eyes flicked toward Ramberta’s face, which had frozen at the mention of her late brother.

Erwin, however, offered no comforting words.

Hastien had been dear to him, nearly like a son, yet Erwin’s expression didn’t waver. Instead, he caught Ramberta’s gaze and motioned subtly: straighten your face.

Don’t show weakness.

She understood. It was a bitter medicine—but necessary.

Drawing a deep breath, Ramberta steadied herself.

ā€œā€¦I see. And now?ā€ she asked softly.

Erwin took the new chair from a servant, setting it down himself. He adjusted it several times, aligning its angle with the table.

ā€œNow, my lady,ā€ he said, ā€œis not the time for manners or pride. It’s the time to survive. Especiallyā€¦ā€

He stopped.

From the hall came a booming, coarse voice that shattered the hush of rain.

ā€œWhat’s the harm in seeing that precious little face, eh? Out of the way!ā€

Erwin’s lips thinned.

ā€œā€¦Especially when dealing with those sorts of men.ā€

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To My Cruel Usurper

To My Cruel Usurper

ķ¬ģ•…ķ•œ ė‚˜ģ˜ ģ°¬ķƒˆģžģ—ź²Œ
Score 10.0
Status: Ongoing Type: Author: Released: 2025 Native Language: korean

Synopsis

The youngest daughter of House Coronis, Lamberta.
She was raised to unite the South and North through marriage,
but on the day of her wedding, the ceremony was attacked by assassins—
and she lost both her husband and her family.

They called her:
the widow of the fastest marriage in the kingdom,
the woman who devours her husbands,
the champion of the virgin goddess Hermisa,
and the southern hero who severed the northern bloodline.

Despite endless scorn and ridicule, Lamberta struggles to protect her crumbling house.
Then one day, a mysterious man named Salvad Tan appears before her,
claiming that she must marry him.

ā€œThe noble widow who guards her virtue… how cold of you to pretend you don’t know me today, when last night you knew me so well.ā€

What he invoked was ā€œOlkhan’s Betrothalā€ā€”
a barbaric northern custom decreeing that a widow must remarry her late husband’s brother.

It was absurd, and yet… with the southern nobles and the royal family closing in on House Coronis,
the only way to protect her lineage was through this forbidden union.

Thus begins Lamberta’s perilous tightrope walk through Coronis,
where desire, hatred, regret, and yearning swirl like a storm.


Salvad Tan let out a low laugh and brushed his hair back.
He was a man born to seize what belonged to others—
a conqueror by nature, who found joy in taking what others coveted.
The woman who had once enchanted a royal heir,
the woman who should have belonged to the North.

ā€œI’ll have her.ā€

He tied off his surging desire in that single, simple thought.

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