TMH ch#02

. The New Owner of the Whitehouse

“Marriage?”

“Hmph, you’re basically a woman with nowhere to go now! Do you know what happens to noble ladies thrown out on the streets? You fall to the lowest rungs of back-alley society!”

Nathan stepped closer.

His greasy forehead and overly stretched lips when he grinned were downright repulsive.

Unconsciously, Marie stepped back.

“Who are you telling me to marry…?”

“You’re going to marry me and become the Countess of Whitehouse.”

“What?!”

Marie’s face twisted in horror.

Everyone knew his wife had died from his abuse.

“Why would I ever marry you?”

She backed away again and shook her head.

Nathan’s greedy eyes scanned her figure shamelessly.

“Heh, having you by my side legitimizes my claim to the title. No one will question my succession.”

“D-Don’t come any closer. And you don’t get to decide who I marry!”

His murky black eyes gleamed like dead fish with water splashed on them.

He licked his lips slowly, rolling his eyes.

“Hehehe, don’t be scared. Be a good girl, and I’ll be good to you.”

His damp hand reached out and caressed her cheek.

“…!”

It felt like a slimy leech was crawling across her skin.

Her legs trembled violently; she was on the verge of passing out.

Her body wouldn’t move—as if glued to the floor.

At any moment, she feared his heavy hand would strike her down.

“Tsk, your looks really are something. That soft light brown hair… those pretty eyes, those long lashes… hehehe.”

But there was no way she could let this continue.

“You’re going to marry me and become the Countess of Whitehouse.”

“KYAAAH!”

Marie couldn’t take it anymore and screamed.

Without thinking, she swung the paintbrush in her hand.

“SPLAT!”

White paint splashed all over Nathan’s oily face.

“Gasp!”

Seeing his navy suit and lips drenched in white paint, Marie turned pale herself.

Nathan unknowingly swallowed some paint as it got into his mouth and twisted his face in disgust.

“You filthy brat…!”

“Get away from me!”

Nathan lunged forward, but the paintbrush struck him squarely in the mouth.

“I said, don’t come any closer!”

“Blargh!”

Swoosh. Swoosh.

The brush cut through the air with force.

His tongue, now a blob of white, had been painted over in seconds.

“Blargh! Pffft!”

His throat convulsed visibly as he gagged.

Though he looked like a clown now, covered in white paint, Marie found the sight even scarier.

Sometimes madmen are more terrifying than villains.

To distract herself from fear, she said the first thing that came to mind.

“Maybe dirty words come from dirty mouths. Let me repaint it for you.”

“You… you wretched little—!”

Nathan flailed his arms to snatch the brush away.

But Marie fought back with swift strokes.

Swoosh. Swoosh. Swoosh.

“No matter how much I paint, it’s still hopeless.”

“Y-You…!”

“Looks like we’ll need a full remodel.”

His hands, sleeves, and jacket all turned white as she painted over him.

“You! You wretch! Stop this at once! If I, as head of the family, choose to take you in, even the king must approve!”

Nathan’s bloodshot eyes blazed with fury as he rushed at her.

“Gasp!”

He grabbed Marie’s wrist.

“You bratty wench…!”

He raised his other hand high in the air.

Marie clenched her eyes shut.

‘I’m going to get hit!’

But then—

Snap!

Someone grabbed Nathan’s wrist.

“Stop.”

“Who the hell—!”

Nathan turned around angrily—

“Gah…!”

—and went white as a sheet.

A tall man was glaring down at him with overwhelming authority.

“You…!”

The man stood over 190cm tall.

Though slightly lean, his broad shoulders and taut chest muscles suggested immense strength.

Clad in all black, with a cloak and his signature half-mask covering his face.

“D-Duke Bloodstone…?”

His jet-black hair was short but swept down in a slightly decadent style.

“….”

Red eyes blazed through the slits in his mask.

His gaze was so sharp, it felt like it could strip someone bare.

‘That man…?’

Marie instinctively shrank back.

Those were the eyes of a predator.

Eyes that burned with fire like a savanna blaze, yet emitted a freezing cold aura.

They seemed capable of spilling blood at any moment.

And yet, beneath the mask, his sharp nose, chiseled jawline, and sensuous lips were so refined, it was as if he had been sculpted to perfection.

He looked like the kind of man who could whisper sweet nothings while driving a sword through someone’s throat.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“N-No, Duke Bloodstone! I—I was just…”

Nathan immediately lowered his tone.

This man was not someone you casually spoke to.

“L-Look, I was just trying to keep order in my family…”

Calyx Bloodstone, despite being only 26 years old, controlled the kingdom’s military and economy.

Rumors surrounded him, making even nobles tremble at his name.

“Urgh…”

Nathan winced and massaged his wrist after being released.

It felt like his bones were broken, even though the duke had only grabbed him for a moment.

“I paid a fair price. Has the transfer not been finalized?”

The duke’s voice wasn’t loud, but it was sharp and chilling.

He must’ve overheard their conversation.

“N-No, of course not! Thank you for purchasing the Whitehouse estate!”

Nathan, covered in paint, wobbled like he was about to faint.

“I—I was just straightening out some family matters…”

He stammered as his knees buckled, and the paint on his tongue twisted his face into a grimace.

“Ugh… I-I’m sorry. I just keep gagging…”

“Get out.”

The duke’s deep voice cut through the air.

Only one word—but the room instantly froze.

“Y-Yes, sir! I’ll leave at once! I just need to take this girl—”

Nathan took a step toward Marie.

But the duke’s gaze suddenly flared with razor-sharp intensity.

His red eyes made his displeasure crystal clear.

“Eep!”

Nathan almost wet himself.

“R-Right, I’m leaving now!”

He spun toward the exit—but tripped and fell with a loud crash.

“Augh!”

Everyone in the room turned pale, like paint-splattered ghosts.

Nathan’s expensive leather shoes had landed right in a puddle of paint, his trousers splattered as well.

He’d knocked over the can in the fall.

A thick vein popped out on his forehead.

“I-I’m fine!”

No one had asked, but Nathan declared it anyway, nodding awkwardly at the duke.

“…….”

The duke made no reply, his face unreadable.

Flushed with embarrassment, Nathan stood abruptly.

“I-I’ll be going now—”

But just then, his foot caught on another paint can, which stuck to his shoe and tilted—

SPLASH!

The paint spilled all over him again.

His cloak and the previously unpainted leg were now white.

“AAAH!”

He clutched his head and screamed.

Marie muttered under her breath in disbelief.

“Oh no…”

The next heir to a noble family of the kingdom now looked like a giant pig drenched in paint.

Their eyes met.

Nathan glared at Marie with bloodshot fury.

“Marie-Anne…! You think you’ll get away with humiliating the next head of the Whitehouse family?!”

“……!”

His rage exploded into a shout that filled the room.

“You wretch! I’ll make sure you pay for this!”

The shout made Marie drop her paintbrush in shock.

Just then, a flush crept up the duke’s ears as he spoke with a hard tone.

“Baron Barrett.”

“H-Huh? Y-Yes, Your Grace?”

Caught in his own rage, Nathan finally remembered who was standing next to him.

“Are you going to continue?”

Only a few words—but the warning was loud and clear.

“Gah! What shameful behavior…! No, of course not! I’ll take my leave now!”

“….”

With a rushed and flustered voice, Nathan bowed and scrambled out of the room.

Marie tried to calm her pounding heart.

‘What on earth just happened?’

The parlor was a mess of spilled paint, and white footprints traced Nathan’s escape route.

‘So… he’s the one who bought the Whitehouse estate.’

Marie looked up at the towering man in front of her.

He was still watching Nathan’s retreating figure with a tired expression.

‘At least… he doesn’t seem like a bad person, since he saved me.’

She breathed a sigh of relief.

The nobility of this kingdom was not known for kindness, but perhaps he was different.

Maybe he’d offer her shelter here as a guest, now that she had nowhere to go.

‘I can’t just freeload forever. I should at least ask for time until I can find a place to stay.’

Marie extended her hand for a handshake and said, confidently yet gracefully:

“Duke Bloodstone, thank you for your help. I’m Marianne Whitehouse.”

“…….”

But the duke didn’t take her hand—he simply looked at it.

‘Why is he hesitating? There’s no need to flat-out reject a handshake…’

From behind the duke, a man with reddish-brown hair was also staring down at her hand with an unwelcoming expression.

He seemed to be the duke’s aide.

‘Well, I guess I can understand the duke’s attitude… but why does he look so displeased too?’

Marie awkwardly pulled her hand back and lowered it.

The moment felt heavier than it should have.

The duke finally shifted his gaze from her hand to her face.

“…You were living here?”

“Yes. This was my home—until just now.”

Marie tried to smile naturally, but it came out somewhat forced.

“So you’re Miss Marianne Whitehouse.”

“Yes. My father was the former Count.”

She kept her voice clear, trying not to sound pitiful.

There was a pause.

The duke’s red eyes scanned her calmly, yet intensely—as if he was assessing every word and gesture.

Marie didn’t flinch under the scrutiny.

Finally, he opened his mouth again.

“…You were painting?”

“Oh. Yes, I was just doing a bit of cleaning up.”

Marie gestured toward the scattered paint cans and brushes.

“In preparation for leaving, of course.”

A faint trace of sarcasm escaped her lips despite herself.

Her family had lived here for generations, and now she was being tossed out with little more than a “farewell.”

The duke’s gaze fell to the paintbrush she had dropped earlier.

There was still white paint dripping from its bristles.

“…Not a bad throw.”

“…Pardon?”

He said it so casually that Marie almost didn’t catch it.

She blinked in confusion—then realized he was referring to when she hit Nathan in the mouth.

“Oh… haha, thank you. Years of experience, I suppose.”

She chuckled awkwardly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

It was the first time in days that someone had acknowledged her, even if indirectly.

The moment was short-lived.

The reddish-brown-haired aide stepped forward, his tone curt.

“Miss Marianne. The Whitehouse estate has now officially transferred ownership. You are aware that your grace, the duke, is the rightful owner now.”

Marie turned toward him, her expression sobering.

“…Yes. I’m well aware.”

“Then surely you also understand that lingering here without permission is, legally speaking, trespassing.”

His tone was cold, and his words cutting.

Marie’s shoulders stiffened.

But before she could respond, the duke spoke again—his tone indifferent.

“…You’ll stay.”

“What?”

Marie looked up, startled.

Even the aide flinched slightly.

“I’ll permit you to remain here for the time being.”

Marie stared at him blankly.

She had hoped for such an outcome… but hadn’t expected it so directly.

“You mean… I can stay here?”

“If you’re not planning to cause more trouble.”

His voice was calm and impassive, but the implication was clear: this wasn’t a favor. It was a condition.

Still, Marie nodded quickly.

“Of course! I’ll stay out of your way and keep to myself. I just… need a bit of time to figure things out.”

The duke didn’t respond. Instead, he turned to the aide.

“Arrange for one of the guest rooms.”

“…Understood, Your Grace.”

The aide bowed, clearly displeased, but he followed the order without protest.

Marie let out a small breath of relief.

The ordeal with Nathan, the threat of being thrown out, the chaos—it was all suddenly… paused. Not resolved, but paused.

She bowed her head deeply.

“Thank you, Duke Bloodstone. I won’t forget your kindness.”

“…It wasn’t kindness.”

That short response was the only reply he gave before turning away, his black cloak billowing behind him as he strode from the room.

Marie stood frozen for a moment, watching his retreating figure.

Then she murmured softly to herself:

“…Still, thank you.”