9. About His Needs
“…Ha.”
Damion chuckled in disbelief at the outrageous behavior. Yet at the same time, he found it intriguing.
He was curious—what kind of response would that woman give? He was even looking forward to it.
But the result was rather disappointing.
The woman didn’t fight back.
She just stayed on the ground, digging through the sand.
Damion took a step forward, eyes fixed on her.
Only when the rough texture entered his shoes buried in sand did he realize he had walked onto the beach.
“Damn.”
But he was already there—nothing he could do about it now. Damion moved toward Ansi de Rubelsa.
As he got closer, her figure became clearer. Her emotionless, flat expression somehow irritated him.
And then, the next moment—
Their eyes met as the woman stood up.
“…”
But she turned her head away.
She didn’t acknowledge him, nor did she ask him to help her out of the unjust situation.
Why?
The question rose in Damion’s mind.
He had told her he liked her. Shouldn’t she look like she’d just met a savior?
Instead, she looked uncomfortable.
The face that had appeared indifferent now twisted upon seeing him. It even looked like she wanted to avoid the situation.
It made him feel dirty.
It felt like being rejected without even confessing. No—he had already confessed, so this was just a rejection.
A woman who neither felt the need for him nor welcomed him.
His certainty that their lunch meeting would lead to a good conclusion wavered.
And to make things worse, the words he heard now annoyed him further.
“I heard your mother will die if she doesn’t take her medicine.”
Zidane’s daughter flung out cruel words at the compliant Ansi de Rubelsa.
Damion was sure Ansi would just bow her head again. She had even picked up cookie crumbs from the ground—surely she could endure mere words.
If so, then even if she didn’t want it, even if she never asked, he was willing to shatter that false peace.
Ansi de Rubelsa would become his chess piece, and he didn’t like others using her carelessly.
But her reaction was different this time, too.
“Forgive me, milady. But I’ve done nothing to warrant kneeling or apologizing.”
Her usually calm blue eyes surged with turbulence. The firm voice that escaped her soft lips was sharp, more than one would imagine from her earlier docile demeanor.
Like a wave crashing in when least expected.
In any case, the woman ignored Damion up until the very moment he arrived. As if insisting she didn’t need his help.
Damion, like a sulky child, found himself wanting to ignore her too.
Until she called his name.
Ansi entered the man’s room without knocking.
Rather than risk someone passing by while she waited for the door to open, it was better—though slightly rude—to just walk in.
The man was drawing the curtains shut. Without a hint of surprise, he calmly finished and turned around with a lazy smile.
“It’s been a while.”
The greeting felt absurd. They had been in the same space all day since the morning at the beach. This was just the first time they were speaking.
“Did you tell the Zidane family about me?”
Ansi marched up to him and asked directly.
Before any proper conversation, this needed to be confirmed. It would decide how the rest of the conversation would go.
“About Rain? Or about Ansi?”
He raised his eyebrows lightly and responded playfully.
Ansi looked up at him squarely and repeated,
“About me.”
She had no intention of playing along with his word games.
Damion lowered his gaze to look at her. Her image was reflected fully in his downcast eyes.
Those piercingly transparent eyes glared at him, carrying anxiety yet shining boldly.
As if any further push might cause her to shatter.
“…I didn’t say anything. Not a word.”
In the end, Damion backed down first. She was the one who had approached him—so in a way, this was his reply.
“Thank you.”
“Leave this place, Ansi.”
His voice was soft—but the tone was closer to a command than a suggestion. Ansi’s eyebrows rose in displeasure.
“This isn’t a place where you should be forced to work under such conditions.”
Ansi glared at him, lips pressed tightly.
This man didn’t know. He had no idea how much it took just to get into this place.
She had fled to the South alone, with nowhere to go. A porter stole her jewelry, and predatory gazes eyed her like a hyena.
The name “Ansi” brought only pity or contempt. She created the name “Rain” and applied for countless jobs—but she had no skills.
It was the first time she’d ever felt so powerless.
That’s why she’d grown numb to “treatment like that.” Why that numbness had come to feel normal.
And yet—
In front of this man, emotions she thought she had locked away came flooding back. Shame she tried to ignore raised its head.
She only realized the irrationality of her situation once she saw it through his eyes. That shame carried a deeper sense of defilement.
But such emotions were unnecessary now.
Instead, if she could use even this disgusting feeling, then she would. If Damion de Orphea was the one to expose her filthy reality, then it only made things simpler.
Instead of sarcastically scoffing at his suggestion, she asked politely:
“If you pity me, could you grant me one request?”
Damion looked slightly surprised, raising an eyebrow. The corner of his lips lifted slightly.
“If it’s for your sake—as much as I can.”
“Let me work at the Orphea estate.”
“…”
It wasn’t a welcome request. An awkward expression spread over Damion’s face.
But for Ansi, this was the best move she could make.
To bring down Orphea, she needed ongoing access to Orphea.
Rather than sipping tea with this man once and never knowing when she’d see him again, it would be far more advantageous to stay near him through work and monitor him constantly.
Ansi spoke calmly to persuade him.
“I adapt quickly. I’m thorough too. You can ask the other servants at the Zidane estate if you’d like.”
“No need. From what I saw today, I believe it.”
“Then, at the Orphea estate—”
“I can’t allow that. I know you’re Ansi de Rubelsa.”
“Does that matter?”
“To me, it does.”
“Why?”
“I told you—I like you.”
The sudden confession stunned Ansi into silence.
His gaze was surprisingly sincere. She thought he was teasing, but maybe he really did like her.
Ah, the naïve, romantic son of Orphea. So what if he loved her? Love didn’t feed you. Love didn’t bring revenge.
“If you truly like me, can’t you grant my request?”
“That’s not possible. But instead, how about this?”
Damion gently took her left hand.
Ansi looked down at his large hand.
His long fingers pressed lightly against hers. Unlike when Labou had gripped her roughly, this soft pressure stirred a strange feeling.
“Let’s date, Ansi.”
His gentle voice layered over the moment.
Ansi blinked rapidly. It took her three seconds to understand what he had said. She quickly raised her head to look at him.
“Are you asking me to be your mistress?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“If that made you uncomfortable, I’ll rephrase—to lover.”
Damion sighed softly, troubled.
But dressing it up didn’t change what it was.
Before or after marriage, many nobles kept lovers for fun. Those lovers were rarely taken seriously.
So, instead of hiring her as a servant, he wanted to date her? A relationship in exchange for living expenses?
A sickening feeling rose in her throat. Ansi bit the inside of her lip and swallowed it down.
Shameful—but not the worst proposal.
If she could maintain contact with him in any form, she might be able to dig up the secrets of Orphea.
“If you want to stay under the radar, we’ll have to meet frequently in the South.”
“Well, if I were dating Rain Arel, maybe. But Ansi de Rubelsa? That would definitely draw attention.”
“So… you want a public relationship?”
“I prefer that over something secret.”
“Ansi is… a name I no longer use. It’s a name that’s been branded negatively.”
“If attention shifts, that stigma can be erased.”
Damion bent down slightly to meet her gaze. His voice was quiet, almost a whisper.
“This might sound arrogant, but the Orphea name is quite powerful. Rumors of a relationship with me would change how people view you—and your family. Public opinion would shift.”
“…And if that stigma ends up hurting Orphea?”
“It won’t. Don’t worry.”
He was confident.
He had no idea that her goal was to destroy that very Orphea name.
“It’s not a bad deal for you either. In a month—whether it’s tutoring or business—you can start something under your own name. Not as Rain Arel.”
“What happens after a month?”
“You choose. Whether to leave me—or…”
He smiled smoothly. His lips curved with elegance and ease.
“…marry me.”
