Chapter 1

Prologue

 The Count’s Damnable Master (1)

Even the creaking noises made this place feel gloomy and sinister. Every step I took echoed loudly through the halls. That made me even more cautious.

I walked with my back slightly bent, neither too quickly nor too slowly. Only when I reached the familiar door did I come to an abrupt stop.

Before opening it, I steadied my breathing.

Huff. Huff. Huff.

After taking several short, deep breaths, I grasped the doorknob and turned it.

The darkness inside the room, even deeper than that of the hallway, spilled out. The room was so pitch-black that I couldn’t see a thing, making me hesitate even to enter.

But I stepped inside as though accustomed to it and threw open the long curtains.

A beam of light so bright it nearly made my eyes close flooded the room.

It’s dazzling.

Even so, I drew the curtains all the way open and turned around.

At that moment, something flew rapidly past the side of my face.

Bang!

It struck the window frame, bounced off, and rolled across the floor.

It was a table clock.

I merely glanced at it before turning my gaze forward.

In the corner farthest from the window, where thick shadows had settled, stood a bed. On top of it was a round shape completely covered by a sheet.

The only thing sticking out was a hand, gripping the edge of the sheet tightly.

It was obvious he was trembling with fear.

“Get out.”

A hoarse, cracked voice escaped from beneath the sheet. Thick anger was laced through it.

I pretended not to hear and picked up the table clock from the floor.

A nail was sticking out, and part of the wooden surface had been torn away. It was obviously broken beyond use.

I decided it was useless and placed it on top of the clean sheet I was carrying.

Then I swept my eyes over the mess that was the room.

The dishes had been smashed to pieces, and even those fragments were dangerously scattered across the floor. There were forks and spoons among them as well.

The dishes weren’t the only things broken.

There wasn’t a single thing in the room that remained intact.

I walked forward one step at a time, picking up the objects scattered across the floor.

Following the sound of my footsteps, the round shape on the bed flinched and trembled.

“Get out.”

His voice rang out again.

Once more, I ignored him and reached the front of the bed.

Whatever had made him so anxious, the figure on the bed kept shifting restlessly. Unable to endure it any longer, he groped around the nightstand beside him.

Then he suddenly backed away.

Since there was nothing left to throw, he had chosen to run instead.

But even his escape only took him to the other side of the bed.

Sitting with his back pressed tightly against the wall, he looked almost pitiful.

I looked him up and down before reaching out my hand.

Perhaps noticing it, he violently slapped my hand away.

“Don’t touch me.”

As if I would.

Once again, I pretended not to hear him and quickly grabbed the sheet.

I yanked it away.

The figure hiding beneath it staggered and finally revealed himself.

Messy golden hair.

A neck twisted awkwardly in alarm.

Bones protruding sharply along his shoulders.

My gaze traveled down his body.

I didn’t need to see what was hidden beneath his clothes to know just how thin he must have become.

When I raised my eyes again, I saw beads of sweat covering his face up close.

I reached out my hand.

Again, he slapped it away viciously.

“Don’t touch me!”

Then, like a thunderclap, a furious roar exploded from him.

“I told you to get out! Get out! Get the hell out!”

After hearing the string of harsh curses, I finally let out a deep sigh.

The man’s pale face had flushed red from the heat.

His chapped lips puffed out ragged breaths.

And yet, as though determined not to let me take the sheet from him, his fingers gripped it so tightly that his fingertips had turned white.

“Get lost. Please, just get the hell out!”

“Calm down, Master.”

“Get out! Go, get out—huff!”

As expected, the man’s breathing soon became labored.

His flushed face turned pale again, and before long, he clutched his chest in agony.

I quickly pulled him into my arms and took an inhaler from my pocket, placing it against his mouth.

Then I gently rubbed his back and said,

“Slowly. Breathe.”

Hearing my words, he tried to steady his breathing.

He inhaled through the inhaler, then exhaled, repeating the process.

Gradually, the chest that had been heaving so violently began to settle.

I watched him for a moment before removing the inhaler from his mouth.

“Haa… haa…”

“You should be all right now.”

By then, his face was covered in sweat.

His damp golden hair had fallen messily over my clothes.

I gently stroked his hair as a gesture of praise.

At that, his tightly shut eyelids slowly opened.

Pale emerald eyes gazed toward me.

And in that instant, I was shoved backward.

“Eek!”

Before I knew it—

Thud!

I tumbled onto the floor beneath the bed.

My skirt flipped up, exposing my undergarments completely.

As I frantically kicked my legs in the air, a face suddenly appeared above me.

His dazed gaze slowly traveled downward.

It shouldn’t have been possible, but it felt as though he was looking directly at me.

His face was still unbearably pale.

And still unbearably handsome.

It filled my entire field of vision.

His moist lips slowly parted.

“Get out.”

A crack appeared in my expression.

Anyway, what a fucking bastard.

Chapter 1. The Count’s Damnable Master (1)

I am the daughter of a sharecropper, born with nothing and raised with nothing.

Things became so difficult that we could barely scrape together enough food to survive.

Living from one day to the next, drowning in terrible poverty—that was all my life amounted to.

The funny thing was, despite all that, there were five children in our family.

Unable to endure the crushing poverty any longer, Mother ran away alone.

The father she left behind drank every day and routinely resorted to violence.

The youngest, still a nursing baby, was beaten to death by his hands.

The fourth child starved to death.

The second was sold to a brothel.

As for the third child, she was pretty, so Father raised her like a precious jewel.

His plan was to raise her well and marry her off to the young master of a noble family, hoping she could improve the family’s fortunes.

And me, the eldest—the ugly one—he kept around because I was at least good at managing the household.

My days consisted of cooking, doing laundry, cleaning, attending to my third sister, working at Uncle Mark’s bakery in town during the afternoon, and being beaten by my father at night.

It was a miserable life with barely a moment to catch my breath.

My ugly face became even uglier from all the swelling, and when I was in the middle of growing up, I broke my leg. My height stopped growing halfway through.

The ugly dwarf.

That was what the neighborhood children called me.

If there was such a thing as hell, I thought, then this must be it.

I envied my third sister, who grew prettier and more radiant with every passing day, and I could barely endure Father’s violence.

There were even several times when I tried to hang myself because I wanted to die.

Every time, I survived because of bad luck.

Either Father caught me, someone passing by found me, or the rope snapped just before I could die.

This was my prison, and I was a prisoner being punished without even knowing my crime.

No—at this point, being imprisoned for real might have been better.

The reason Father hadn’t sold me to a brothel was because he needed someone to manage the household.

But even that was only half the truth.

I’d heard the neighborhood women gossiping about how he’d once tried to sell me to a brothel when I was still a little girl, sitting around sucking my fingers without knowing anything about the world.

But when they offered such a low price because I was ugly, he decided not to sell me and instead taught me how to do the household chores.

Mother used to call Father a bastard devil.

I followed her lead and called him the same.

From now on, my life would be controlled by that bastard devil.

How could this be anything but a tragedy?

And yet, God hadn’t completely abandoned me.

Miraculously, my height, which had refused to grow, suddenly increased by a handspan.

My dry, unruly bangs hid my ugly face.

And just as people began calling me a young woman in the flower of her youth, an elderly gentleman visited our village.

I didn’t know why an elderly gentleman, dressed in luxury from head to toe, would visit such a small, remote village.

The reason I came to meet him was simply that, while walking around the village, he happened to gesture toward me as I passed by.

“I would like to hire your daughter.”

The old gentleman politely made the offer while presenting a pouch filled with gold coins.

Father’s eyes became fixed on the gold.

He swallowed dryly.

His vulgar mind began spinning rapidly as he stared at the elderly gentleman before him and the pouch of gold coins on the table.

Father clearly wanted to snatch the pouch immediately. He clenched his twitching hand and composed his expression.

“Sir. I am deeply grateful that my humble daughter has caught your eye, but all she has ever learned is how to scrape by and survive, so she is quite inexperienced. If, by any chance, you find her unsuitable later…”

“Do not worry about that. Even if she does not meet my expectations, I will not ask you to return this.”

The old gentleman calmly pushed the pouch of gold coins toward Father.

Father forcibly lowered the corners of his mouth, which had risen sharply, and looked at me sitting beside him.

The way he looked at me, as though I were his beloved daughter, sent chills down my spine.

“My dear, your father respects your decision. Of course, having money is nice, but it is not more important than you. Tell me honestly what you think.”

As he said that, his large hand gripped my thin wrist.

The pressure was so strong I thought my bones might twist.

On the surface, he wore the concerned expression of a father worried about his precious daughter.

But his eyes were viciously gleaming with greed for the gold.

The old gentleman also quietly waited for my answer.

If I showed any intention of refusing, the old gentleman would leave and find another girl.

And Father would beat me to death as punishment for being a troublesome daughter.

“I’ll go.”

“My dear.”

Father embraced me with a deeply moved expression, his voice filled with emotion.

As his hand slowly stroked my back, I had to suppress the urge to push him away.

I prepared my things and left with the old gentleman.

All I had was a single bag.

I didn’t own many clothes or belongings to begin with.

The only thing different from usual was that instead of the ragged clothes covered in dirt that I wore every day, I was wearing a pretty dress embroidered with flowers.

“Goodbye. Be careful.”

Father patted my shoulder as he saw me off at the door.

There was an unspoken pressure in that touch:

Make sure you keep the gentleman happy.

Alicia, my third sister, stood beside Father and gave me a mocking smile when she saw me.

“Goodbye, Sister. Stay there for a long, long time.”

Don’t ever come back.

Alicia mouthed the words silently.

But when I showed no particular reaction, Alicia’s smile disappeared and she pouted unhappily.

I gave Alicia only one sentence in response.

“Take good care of that pretty face of yours. It’s the only thing you have worth looking at.”

“What?!”

Leaving the fuming Alicia behind, I turned away.

The place the old gentleman took me to was an enormous mansion, so huge that my eyes widened.

It was much larger and more magnificent than even the estate of the wealthiest lord in the village where I had lived.

“Wow…”

An unfeigned exclamation of admiration escaped me as I followed the old gentleman inside.

“Welcome back.”

A middle-aged woman dressed neatly greeted the old gentleman.

He nodded once and removed his bowler hat.

The middle-aged woman noticed me standing behind him and asked,

“Who is this child?”

“She is the girl who will attend to the master from now on.”

The master?

Confused, I looked at the old gentleman.

He gestured for me to come forward.

I timidly stepped forward.

The middle-aged woman looked me up and down as though evaluating me.

Feeling nervous, I swallowed dryly and waited quietly.

“I see.”

Perhaps I had received an acceptable evaluation, because the middle-aged woman nodded and turned away.

The old gentleman soon turned in the opposite direction as well.

I looked back and forth between the two people as they split up in different directions.

Then I followed the woman.