Don't Pick That Flower (2 Chapters Left to Complete) - Chapter 4
Irene’s body stiffened like stone at his sudden and bewildering action.
“Huh.”
Only briefly—then, as a strange sensation spread from the spot he’d touched, Irene let out an involuntary moan. Her fingers clenched even tighter on her clothes.
Is he finally showing me why he brought me here?
She’d suspected this might happen, so it wasn’t entirely unexpected—but she still hated it. It filled her with despair.
Irene wanted nothing more than to shove him away and run.
But she’d already failed to escape once, and his warning—that if she tried again and got caught, it wouldn’t end as gently as it had this time—was burned into her mind, paralyzing her.
Sleeping with him would be better than dying.
…But was it truly better?
While Irene wavered, his fingers, which had been tracing near her shoulder blades, slid down her spine to her waist.
A dreadful premonition struck her—if she let this continue, his hand would surely reach places no one else should ever touch. Panicked, she cried out.
“St-stop…!”
This time, her desperate plea seemed to reach him; the fingers tormenting her finally withdrew.
Irene exhaled the breath she’d been holding and looked at Carlos in the mirror.
‘He’s… smiling?’
It wasn’t just a simple smile—he was beaming with unmistakable delight.
She’d never seen him smile like this before; having only ever seen his expressionless face, it felt strange yet fascinating.
His handsome features lit up brilliantly with that radiant smile.
So beautiful was the sight that Irene stared at his reflection, half-dazed.
“…”
Sensing her gaze, Carlos wiped the smile from his lips and looked down at her.
Only then did Irene snap back to her senses and hastily lower her head.
A cool voice sounded above her.
“Didn’t you say you had no tattoos on your body?”
When Irene nodded, Carlos placed his cold palm against her back.
Goosebumps prickled across her skin, and her small shoulders shrank inward.
“Then what is this? There’s a tattoo right here.”
A tattoo?
Confused, Irene turned her head—but sadly, she couldn’t see her own back.
Still, she strained awkwardly to catch a glimpse, so Carlos fetched a small hand mirror from the vanity.
He held it to reflect her back, then angled it toward the full-length mirror.
Thanks to that, Irene’s eyes widened in shock at the sight of the floral vine tattoo etched onto her back.
Four unopened buds and three fully bloomed flowers adorned the long branch.
“You’ve never seen it before today, have you?”
“…Yes.”
How often does one get to see their own back in a lifetime?
Moreover, Irene’s home had only one mirror, making it impossible to view her back like this.
Even beyond that, she couldn’t fathom how a tattoo could be there—she had no memory of getting one.
If it had been there since birth, her mother or her nominal father would surely have mentioned it, yet neither ever had.
Then when had this tattoo appeared?
And why had Carlos reacted that way upon seeing it?
She was curious. It felt deeply connected to why he’d brought her here, and she wanted to know more.
“Um…”
She’d barely gathered the courage to speak when a large coat settled over her shoulders—Carlos’s own coat.
Unable to say what she’d intended, Irene blinked slowly and looked up at Carlos.
Adjusting the coat slipping off her small shoulders, Carlos said,
“Don’t tell anyone else—anyone besides me—that you have this tattoo. Don’t show it to anyone.”
Though his tone and words were somewhat commanding, they gave her certainty.
Indeed, this tattoo was connected to everything.
Now that she understood why he’d brought her, her overwhelming anxiety eased slightly—but the mysterious floral vine tattoo stirred fresh unease.
It almost felt as if she’d truly become a witch.
“I’d like an answer.”
Irene nodded.
Even without his warning, showing the tattoo would require undressing—something she’d never consider doing in front of others.
Still, one thing troubled her: his phrase “anyone besides me.”
That meant he intended to see it himself.
The thought of standing half-undressed before him again made her cheeks flush with embarrassment.
Carlos straightened his knees, rising to her eye level.
“Finish dressing and come downstairs. We must leave now.”
As he turned and walked toward the door, he suddenly stopped, as if remembering something.
Glancing back, he looked down at Irene, who still sat on the floor.
“I’m sorry for barging in.”
Did he just say…?
Stunned by words she could hardly believe, Irene stared at Carlos through the mirror.
He frowned slightly—as if displeased or awkward—then quickly strode out.
Left alone, Irene was bewildered by Carlos’s inexplicable behavior, yet wondered if perhaps he wasn’t as frightening as she’d thought.
*
When Carlos returned downstairs alone after fetching Irene, Dewey asked curiously,
“Where is the young lady?”
“In her room. She hadn’t finished changing yet.”
“I see?”
He’d given her ample time, so if she still hadn’t dressed, she must be struggling alone.
“I should go help her, then.”
As Dewey muttered to himself and started up the stairs, Carlos roughly grabbed him by the scruff of his neck.
Thud.
Dewey toppled over, rubbing his sore backside as he looked up at Carlos.
His expression suggested he had much to say, yet no words came out.
After a moment of pouting, he simply sighed deeply and shook his head.
“If you disapprove of my actions, please just tell me—don’t do that.”
Carlos gave a half-hearted nod and said,
“I need wound ointment.”
“Huh?”
Since “wound ointment” seemed utterly unrelated to Carlos, Dewey needed a few seconds to process his words.
“Ah. The young lady must be injured, then.”
Carlos nodded, recalling the wounds on her back and arms.
Given how fresh the scabs looked, she’d clearly been hurt recently.
Most likely during her imprisonment, when they’d accused her of witchcraft.
Though understandable from their perspective—since they believed her a witch—it still displeased him.
If she’d been permanently harmed, he’d have been forced to wait endlessly again.
He refused to wait any longer.
Time was running out.
“Silos Territory, was it?”
“Silas Territory.”
Correcting him, Dewey added tactfully,
“Shall I handle it?”
By “handle it,” he meant erasing not just Silas Territory but the entire Silas family.
Carlos glanced up at the second floor where Irene was, then nodded.
“I never want to hear that name again.”
The moment Dewey bowed his head in understanding, a sound like a dog’s howl echoed from somewhere.
*
When Irene came downstairs after changing, Carlos handed her the wound ointment Dewey had procured.
Confused by this unexpected gesture, she stared at him until he spoke.
“Apply it.”
“Am I… injured?”
“You didn’t know?”
When Irene nodded, Carlos let out a dry chuckle.
To be so covered in wounds yet unaware—it wasn’t just ordinary dullness.
Unless she was simply accustomed to pain.
Carlos suspected the latter.
After all, her body bore many old scars—clearly from beatings, not mere falls or accidents.
Maybe he should have asked for scar-removing medicine too.
He resolved to mention it once they returned to the castle and pressed the ointment into Irene’s hand.
Irene blinked slowly at the ointment, then murmured softly,
“Thank… you.”
He offered no reply. After fiddling with the ointment for a moment, she tucked it into her pocket and held out his neatly folded coat.
“It’ll get colder farther north—keep it on.”
“I’m fine…”
“Keep it on.”
Carlos swept away without accepting it, clearly refusing.
Still dazed, Irene watched his retreating back, then hurried after him.
A carriage awaited outside the inn.
Once again, Dewey sat on the driver’s seat, leaving only Carlos and Irene inside the carriage.
Uncomfortable with this arrangement, Irene quietly asked Dewey if she could sit beside him on the driver’s seat—but he refused.
He claimed it was too dangerous a place for her.
Then why was it safe for Dewey and the driver?
Irene wondered, but since Dewey insisted, she reluctantly climbed into the carriage.
Throughout the ride through the forest, she kept her head tucked in like a turtle, stealing glances at Carlos seated opposite her.
Though she’d begun to think he might not be as terrifying as she’d imagined, she was still afraid of him.
But as time passed with nothing happening, the tightly wound string of tension in her gradually loosened.
Feeling somewhat calmer than when she’d first boarded, Irene gazed out the window.
There, like a painted scene, lay a breathtakingly beautiful lake. Sunlight shimmered on its surface, making it sparkle as if fairies danced above the water.
Entranced by a sight she’d never seen in her life, Irene stared at the lake, half-lost in wonder.
Noticing her expression, Carlos paused in thought, then tapped on the window connecting to the driver’s seat.
Moments later, the carriage halted, and Dewey opened the door.
“You called, my lord?”
“Let’s take a short rest.”
Dewey’s eyes naturally shifted to Irene.
Carlos wouldn’t be tired from something so minor—it was clearly for her sake.
Unaware of this, Irene was simply delighted at the chance to admire the beautiful lake a little longer.
Of course, she didn’t show it outwardly—she only rejoiced inwardly.
Yet she couldn’t stop her lips from curling upward or her eyes from drifting toward the lakeshore.
Carlos glanced at her, then told Dewey,
“We’ll likely need drinking water for the journey ahead.”
Quick-witted, Dewey instantly understood what Carlos wanted and replied with a smile,
“I should attend to the carriage repairs, so it’d be best if the young lady fetched the water herself.”
Carlos’s gaze shifted to Irene.
“He says you should go—will you?”
“Yes, yes!”
Irene eagerly agreed. This was a perfect chance to see the beautiful lake up close—she wouldn’t dream of refusing.
“Here’s the water bucket.”
As she stepped down from the carriage, Dewey handed her a bucket.
Irene clutched it tightly, as if it were a precious treasure.
“Repairs will take at least an hour, so since you’re going anyway, feel free to enjoy the lake.”
“Is that really alright?”
“Of course.”
Irene’s face brightened instantly—the first genuine smile since meeting Carlos.
“I’ll be right back, then.”
She bowed quickly and hurried toward the lake.
Dewey watched until Irene disappeared from view, then turned around.
He asked Carlos, who had just stepped down from the carriage,
“Is it truly safe to let the young lady go alone?”
What if she runs away?
At this question laden with implication, Carlos glanced in the direction Irene had vanished and replied,
“There’s no other choice. I can’t send you, and I can’t go myself.”
Dewey had claimed he needed to repair the carriage, making it impossible for him to accompany her—and if Carlos went, Irene would feel uncomfortable.
“If she does run, we’ll just catch her again.”
Was it really that simple?
Dewey smiled.
“It seems the young lady has captured your favor.”
Carlos snorted and leaned against the carriage wall.
“Nonsense.”
He was only being kind to her to avoid repeating the same mistake.
Yes—that was all it was.
When the male lead is punished by carrying the female lead’s child and having periods like a woman
“I’ve given birth to two children for you, yet you still think about him.
Was I nothing but his substitute to you from beginning to end?”
Synopsis:
Meng Huan, a scumbag who has dated countless girlfriends, transmigrates to a female-dominated country.
Day 1: Whether it’s female dominance or not doesn’t matter. The beauties here are passionate and amorous. Isn’t it easier to date them than in modern times?
Day 2: After a night, Meng Huan discovers the differences in the female-dominated world. Men here actually have chastity locks and menstrual cycles. This hinders his ability to perform, damn it!
Day 3: What’s wrong with sleeping around? I don’t want you to marry me. I’m meant to be a playboy. I don’t care about male virtues… What? You want to drown me in a pig cage? Marry, I’ll marry!
Day N: Meng Huan inexplicably vomits and receives the shocking news of his life… He’s pregnant.
_____
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