TLSD 01

Chapter 1

A heavy palm swung through the air and struck Elio fiercely across the cheek. The world turned blindingly white, and her father’s harsh, muffled shouting pierced her ringing ears.

“You can’t even manage a simple seduction? Sneak into Carlos’s bedroom! Use that body of yours, if you have to!”

“Pfft.”

Ahahaha. Elio shook as she collapsed onto the floor, her chest heaving. A bitter, twisted smile bloomed across her upturned face.

“Spend a single night with him? And you expect the high-and-mighty heir of a ducal house to suddenly ask some country count’s daughter to marry him? What is this, some cheesy romance novel—”

The count snatched up a thick book and hurled it straight at her head. Elio curled into herself, trembling violently. The blunt, heavy impact knocked the wind right out of her lungs.

“Shut your mouth! His visit to our territory is a gift from the heavens! You’d better crawl to Carlos on your own two feet before I strip you bare and throw you at him. Right now!”

“Th-The Schünhardt in backwater Aquitaine…!”

“Excuses! Always excuses!”

The count grabbed a fistful of her hair. Elio clutched her forehead in a panic, overwhelmed by the excruciating agony of her roots being ripped from her scalp.

“How much longer are you going to hide behind pathetic excuses for a family? When you can’t even seduce a single young man! You can’t even bring yourself to lie naked in his bed? If you’ve reached adulthood, you should at least know how to share a man’s bed!”

Elio desperately wanted to scream that her only perceived usefulness was as a breeding sow, but her throat tightened until she choked.

Gritting his teeth against her distorted face, the count drew in ragged, furious breaths.

“If you want to live life entirely on your own terms, get out of my sight right this instant. Someone as selfish as you should have been dumped in an orphanage ages ago. Taking you in and raising you is the greatest regret of my entire life.”

Elio curled her fingertips tightly, letting out a laugh that sounded suspiciously like a sob.

Isn’t it you who refuses to let me leave, even though I want to more than anyone? She giggled, her lips trembling as she crawled on the floor like a cockroach.

Unable to contain his rage any longer, the count heaved his chest and dropped to one knee. His rough palm plastered itself against Elio’s cheek like a snake. As his agitated breathing gradually subsided, his voice shifted into a wet, sugary coo, like someone soothing a young child.

“Why won’t you just try a little for your old man’s sake when things are like this? Do you intend to live with your father forever, hmm? Since you’ve somehow managed to cross paths with the young duke, you need to make something happen. The man has just returned from years of subjugation—he’s exhausted. You should offer him comfort and use that as your opening!”

Smiling with a flushed, overheated face, the count shook her by the hair. Elio stared fixedly at the intricate patterns of the marble floor just inches from her nose, holding her breath.

“Move now. Or I’ll drag you there myself. Don’t expect me to keep looking after a grown-up daughter who does nothing but eat my food.”

The count smoothed out her furrowed brow with a gentle tap, whispering that she’d get wrinkles and should smile prettily instead. He gave her swollen cheek a firm pat with his heavy palm before pushing himself to his feet.

“You need to know how to handle things properly while your father still loves you. Understood?”

Left sprawled like a corpse on the cold marble, Elio clutched her trembling hands together. The heavy, rhythmic thud of receding footsteps faded away, the door slammed shut with a bone-rattling click, and Elio finally expelled the breath she had been holding.

“My Lady…! Are you alright?”

The maid, who had been hiding and weeping in the corner, rushed over to hoist her up with shaking hands.

Elio staggered toward the window, leaning against the sill as she choked back a groan and a string of curses.

A remote territory at the very edge of the southern continent. Her father had built an absurdly lavish four-story mansion far beyond his means, gambling away their entire fortune, and was now desperate to find any way to rake in cash.

It felt as though he had only adopted her so he could eventually sell her off to some high-ranking noble family. That sordid greed made her sick to her stomach.

A cold wind whistled through the crack of the open window, and raindrops lashed against the glass like whips.

Elio gazed up into the pitch-black night sky, recalling the massive man who had arrived on a black steed just hours before.

Carlos, the heir to the noble house of Schünhardt and commander of the Robitain Knights—the greatest swordsman on the continent.

This whole mess had started simply because his brigade had chosen to stay the night at the count’s estate. They were supposedly on their way back from a campaign to subdue the southern monsters.

Their stay at the manor would last a single night.

And her father had gone completely wild, acting like a frantic stallion, ordering her to seduce Carlos and share a wedding night within these next few hours.

How on earth was she supposed to charm a man like that in just one night?

He’d fall for her if she seduced him naked? The high and mighty man who looked like he wouldn’t bat an eye even if she danced in the buff?

And even if he were foolish enough to take the bait for a single night, what would actually change? Elio knew her own place all too well.

“Are the men of the Robitain Knights staying in the annex?”

“Y-Yes, My Lady. You need to apply your potion right away.”

“…Is it very bad?”

“It’s swollen. It’s swollen badly. It looks like it’s going to turn blue.”

Elio shuddered, remembering how her father used to beat her all the more whenever he saw her bruised body because he thought it looked hideous, and cautiously touched her cheek.

“They say the Robitain men are leaving tomorrow at dawn. It seems they have to get back to their territory right away.”

The maid whispered in a deep, choked voice as she squeezed the last of the medicinal potion onto a cotton pad.

“Is Lord Carlos in that room from earlier?”

“Y-Yes, yes. In the room on the second floor that you guided him to, My Lady.”

Elio flung the window wide open and looked down at the second floor. Late as it was, the lights were still on, and the window was cracked open.

Leaning her head out into the open air, she exhaled a breath that felt fit to burst her lungs. She dragged the cold, dead scent of acacia deep into her chest.

The rain striking her swollen cheek stung with a sharpness that burned down her throat.

Die this way… or die that way.

After a brief, fierce internal debate—staring wide-eyed at the bright light of the second-floor window—she made her choice.

She grabbed the windowsill and jumped.

“My Lady!!”

With a sharp shriek, the maid dropped the expensive bottle of potion to the floor and desperately leaned her upper body out the window.

Elio was clinging to the emergency escape rope, sliding down the side of the wall. It was the same rope she always used whenever she snuck out of the house.

“Again?!”

“This time, I’m just following my father’s orders. He told me to sneak in.”

Elio laughed, her blue eyes flashing. Rain began to beat down in slanted sheets, soaking her thoroughly to the bone.

The maid was utterly lost for words. A horribly bruised and swollen face. A frayed, sagging grey dress. A young lady scaling the outer wall completely drenched, with pale skin flashing through the wet fabric.

When the count said to pretend to serve bathwater and slip quietly under the covers, he certainly didn’t mean arriving like a trespassing assassin in that kind of state!

Instead of being seduced, the terrifying Lord Carlos was surely going to chop the young lady to pieces with his sword. The thought made the maid burst into fresh tears.

“My Lady! Sob, you’re going to die like that…!”

Brushing off the maid’s frantic cries, Elio focused entirely on scaling the wall amidst the raging storm. Her jaw chattered violently as her teeth clashed together.

The moment she reached the second floor, battered by the elements, she thrust her leg forward toward the windowsill with all her might.

Just as her foot slipped slightly on the slick, rain-slicked stone—

Thud!

Suddenly, something shot out from the window, wrapping an arm securely around her waist and hauling her violently inside.

Her dressing gown was snatched by thrashing hands, and a thick, muscular forearm locked around her body like a vise. As she let out a terrified gasp, a hot breath smelling heavily of leather and cold steel drifted down over her forehead.

It was Carlos.

Elio froze, her eyes blown wide.

Up close, he was a man carved with terrifying perfection, but the blazing intensity in his gaze was so murderous that it filled her with the absolute dread of a cornered prey.

Wh-What? Shouldn’t this be counted as Carlos snatching me rather than me breaking in?

Only the crackling of burning logs and the worsening roar of the rain filled the room. It was an oppressive, suffocating silence.

Anxious about why he wasn’t letting her go, her lips twitched, but her mind went entirely blank as to what she should say first. Just being held tightly in his arms was enough to scramble her senses.

Should she say, “I came through the window because I figured you wouldn’t open the door…!”?

The moment she thought of opening her mouth, she caught sight of his beast-like expression, and her heart shrank right back down. Unable to meet the man’s chilling gaze head-on, Elio squeezed her eyes shut.

Just say it already…!

“Why I… came here… A-Achoo!”

Looking down at her with a face as unpleasantly twisted as if he had just suffered a monster raid, the man tilted his head slightly. His pitch-black hair fell softly across his brow.

“You really are a piece of work.”

With long, purposeful strides, Carlos carried her across the room and dropped her onto the plush sofa as if she were a sack of refuse.

He swept a pitch-black gaze down over her, his jaw clutched tight as he clicked his tongue in disgust. Sopping wet, water dripping from her skin so that she revealed everything beneath, she looked far more like a beggar than a lady.

Her pale hands were shivering uncontrollably.

He shrugged off the heavy night robe draped over his imposing frame, then wrapped it securely around Elio so not a single patch of her damp skin remained visible.

His large hands gripped a teapot and poured a cup of tea. A rich, fragrant wave of rosemary washed up from the cup held out before her.

Dazed and bewildered, Elio looked up at Carlos.

He didn’t ask a single question—perhaps because high-born ladies sneaking into his room was a regular occurrence—just stared at her with a fixation so intense it felt as though he meant to carve the meat from her bones. It was enough to rattle anyone.

Darting her eyes helplessly around the room, she gripped the warm teacup like a lifeline and parted her trembling lips.

“Th-The reason I came here like this is because—”

“I heard your entire conversation with the count.”

He heard a conversation happening two floors up?

As Elio’s jaw dropped in sheer disbelief, Carlos’s cold voice rang out.

“Seems you were eager to fall out in the rain and die. Are the doors to the count’s estate just for decoration?”

“……My Lord.”

You wouldn’t have opened the door anyway.

She didn’t need to ponder it deeply; she would have been turned away at the threshold without a second thought. Judging by his attitude at the banquet an hour ago, he was entirely the type to do just that.

Still, unable to actually voice the thought, she could only manage a sheepish, trembling smile.

“What about it, My Lord?”

Her shoulders shrank back at his heavy, massive frame and the chilling way he scanned her as if searching for a target. The bright red flames of the blazing fireplace flickered across the man’s bronze skin, catching beads of sweat.

“You. What did you think—”

Splash. Stepping forward without a shred of hesitation, the man walked right into the pool of water pooling at the hem of her skirt. His thick thighs planted themselves right in front of her.

In a panic, Elio frantically patted down her bruised cheek and her pitifully tattered dress. She hurriedly lifted her skirt to check if there were any other hideous bruises she ought to show off, but unfortunately, they were too high up on her thigh to be seen properly. The anxiety made her feel like crying.

“What are you doing? Are you hoping I’ll ravish you?”

Carlos spat out the words, bending down at the waist. His eyes narrowed with predatory, dangerous intent.