Duke, This Will Sting for a Moment (30 Chapters Left to Complete) - Chapter 12
By the time Yuriella’s tears, which had soaked his shoulder, were nearly dried, everyone from the Grande Marquis household summoned by Frost had gathered in the reception room.
“Oh dear! Were you so eager to see your daughter that you couldn’t even send word ahead of your visit?”
The Marquis Grande swaggered in, striking a proud pose that clashed comically with his massive bulk.
Behind him entered Dolman Grande, his wife Moani, and the twin brothers Maro and Mare, one after another.
“We humbly greet His Grace the Grand Duke—”
Before their courteous greeting could even finish, Frost’s black riding boots shot forward with a sudden lunge, aiming straight at Dolman Grande.
—Thud!
With several times the force of the first kick, Dolman’s body flew backward, crashing hard against the reception room wall and crumpling to the floor.
The wall trembled with a low groan, and a large spiked mace mounted on a wall bracket above Dolman’s head came crashing down.
“Guhhk!”
Dolman curled his body into a tight ball like a frightened daughter-in-law, clutching his freshly bandaged head—reopened from Frost’s kick—with both hands.
“Dolman!”
Only because Marquis Grande leapt forward swiftly to catch the mace did Dolman narrowly avoid having his skull crushed beneath it.
The Marquis gritted his teeth, alternating his furious gaze between the mace—which he normally cherished like part of his own body, meticulously oiling it daily—and his eldest son, who trembled like a pig awaiting slaughter.
Yuriella honestly felt a bit impressed by the Marquis’s nimble movement.
According to the Emperor’s spies, those pot-lid-like hands had long lost their former strength, now busy calculating profits from family-owned iron mines and trade guilds. Yet apparently, the prowess he’d once wielded alongside the late Grand Duke to crush barbarians and monsters hadn’t vanished entirely.
“Your Grace! How could you—!”
The Marquis protested, his brown beard quivering in outrage.
Dolman stood there dazed from the unprovoked assault, while Moani, Maro, and Mare stood frozen, their faces pale as chalk.
Frost completely ignored the Marquis’s protest and turned toward Yuriella, whose eyes were still faintly red from crying. “Since coming to this house, where did your brother hit you, and how many times?”
Yuriella tilted her head, scratching her cheek with her index finger. “Hmm… I’m not sure. It’s all a bit fuzzy.”
“I see. Understood.”
Yuriella didn’t even have time to ask what exactly he’d understood or what he intended to do about it before Frost spun around and strode toward Dolman, who was groggily getting to his feet, blood already seeping through his bandages.
Then—
—Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud!
Before Dolman could even dodge, Frost’s black riding boots slammed relentlessly into his head, shoulders, back, and stomach with brutal efficiency.
“Your Grace the Grand Duke!”
The Marquis’s furious roar reverberated through the reception room, but Frost didn’t even blink—he kept kicking Dolman without pause.
After all, it didn’t really matter exactly where or how many times Yuriella had been struck.
Yuriella was to become the Grand Duchess; even a flower shouldn’t be used to strike her. Dolman needed this lesson imprinted deep into his bones.
The Marquis’s hand gripping the mace trembled violently, his knuckles turning bone-white.
Inwardly, he’d already pictured hurling the mace at the arrogantly overbearing Grand Duke several times.
Yet he couldn’t bring himself to rise and swing it.
His hands had grown far more accustomed to iron mine profit sheets and trade ledgers than weapons. Moreover, his opponent was Frost Eelheim—the undefeated knight chosen by the Divine Sword Ielo.
If he swung the mace now, ninety-nine out of a hundred times, his own head would be severed first by the icy blade.
Even if fortune smiled on him and he managed to crush the Grand Duke’s skull, the North would collapse—and since the Duke embodied the North itself, House Grande, whose entire fortune rested on northern enterprises, would vanish without a trace.
But if he endured this moment, his daughter Yuriella would become Grand Duchess and eventually place in his arms a grandson born of the Duke’s bloodline.
Once the terminally ill Duke passed, the North would be his. And if the Emperor fell before the Duke’s death, the Empire itself could be his. As for the grandson born of a lowly maid’s bloodline—well, both mother and child could simply be eliminated at the appropriate time.
Having finished his calculations, the Marquis suppressed his boiling fury, hung the mace back on the wall, and bowed deeply with clasped hands, signaling humble acceptance of his liege’s punishment—even as the Grand Duke’s chilling aura made his knees quiver.
Frost, finding the Marquis’s transparent scheming utterly predictable, let out a cold scoff and kicked Dolman once more for good measure.
The Marchioness Grande had already fainted earlier and was led out of the reception room by her daughter-in-law. Dolman’s twin younger brothers, fearing they’d be next, hastily followed, feigning worry for their mother.
Yuriella, leaning against the window with arms crossed, simply watched in silence as her betrothed mercilessly beat Dolman.
Since being dragged into this household, the days she’d been struck outnumbered those she hadn’t. Though more than half of that violence had been Dolman Thickhead’s doing, today for some reason she’d almost felt sorry for him—and had briefly considered asking the Duke to stop.
But she held back.
A lesson ingrained deep in her bones from her time as captain of the Imperial Knights:
When enforcing discipline, make an example of one to warn a hundred.
Half-hearted punishment is worse than none at all.
Once you start, you must finish—so the punisher feels the sweat is worth it, and the punished gains a painful lesson.
Yuriella clicked her tongue, watching Dolman desperately crawl away on his elbows.
Fool. Just take it. The Duke strikes only where you won’t die. If you dodge and hit a vital spot, what then? Tsk. Do you really think he’d kill the Marquis’s heir? You’re an idiot.
After Frost finished thoroughly educating Dolman Thickhead, he refused the Marquis’s invitation to stay for a meal and moved to mount his steed Mars. Yuriella quickly dashed down the stairs and leapt onto the black stallion’s back before he could.
“My Lady?”
Frost paused, momentarily captivated by her feather-light movement.
“Could you drop me off in front of the inn in Bordyn Alley on your way? I haven’t seen my father in ages.”
“Father?”
“Mm. My stepfather. He must be terribly worried.”
Yuriella glanced pointedly at the Grande household servants as she made her request.
“It’s harder to get permission to go out here than pluck a star from the sky.”
Frost’s straight brows twitched slightly as he looked down at Yuriella, who murmured her plea almost like a whisper.
“Have you been forbidden from leaving?”
“Since arriving here, my visit to Your Grace’s chamber was both my first and last outing.”
Frost’s green eyes flashed with anger as they fixed on the top of the bowed Marquis’s head.
Judging by the way the Marquis was now glaring darkly at his daughter, he’d surely take out his rage on her once Frost left—either beating her or starving her.
The Marquis felt a sharp sting on his scalp and timidly lifted his head—only to meet those chilling blue eyes and flinch, his shoulders trembling.
Frost’s piercing gaze spoke clearly: Shall I beat that fool too? Or better yet—just get rid of him entirely?
The Grand Duke was the type who preferred smashing mismatched pieces to dust and crafting an entirely new puzzle rather than forcing ill-fitting ones together.
Yuriella, catching a glimpse of the Marquis’s trembling legs and dilated pupils, quickly tugged at Frost’s sleeve.
The Marquis was absolutely not a piece to be discarded on a whim—especially not over her.
“Let’s go now, Your Grace.”
Those icy eyes, fixed fiercely on the Marquis, slowly turned toward Yuriella.
Sunlight glinted off Frost’s strawberry-blond hair as it cascaded over the collar of his shirt, tickling his neck.
Though it wasn’t spring, it felt as if pollen were teasing his throat, prompting him to clear it softly.
After all, there would always be time later to correct bad manners.
Frost mounted the horse with vigor—what if the temperamental Mars threw Yuriella off his back?
Yuriella settled comfortably in front of Frost, leaning back against him, and whispered softly.
“My, my. You truly are a master strategist, Your Grace.”
Though her movements were as natural as flowing water, Frost’s body stiffened slightly. A faint floral scent wafted from her soft pink hair.
“…Master strategist?”
“Outwardly, it seems you’re disciplining your future Grand Duchess’s brother out of affection—but in truth, you’re sternly warning a subordinate against overreaching ambition.”
Her whisper, pressed so close it barely escaped her lips, sent slight tremors through Frost’s clothing. He could even feel her warm breath through the thin fabric.
“…Me?”
“Well, of course! Who else could possibly rule this vast North? You truly are amazing!”
Yuriella’s milk-white cheeks flushed pink as she gushed with excitement—her voice and face still flushed from having just delivered what she felt was a heartfelt, loyal vow to her new liege.
But Frost, unaware of her inner feelings, tilted his head in confusion and rubbed his chin awkwardly.
He’d merely corrected Dolman’s behavior out of annoyance that Yuriella had been hurt—and worry she might be hurt again.
Once they were safely away from the Marquis, Yuriella, overjoyed, clenched her little fist and waved it dramatically, translating the Duke’s inner thoughts aloud with theatrical flair.
“Marquis Grande! I shall take your daughter as my wife! But should you harbor treasonous ambitions under the guise of this marriage, today I’ll crush your skull—and tomorrow, your life shall pay the price!”
Though Frost hadn’t acted with that exact intent, he could well imagine the look in Yuriella’s eyes without even seeing her—and listened quietly with a faint smile.
‘Her crimson eyes, holding flickering flames within, must be sparkling with vibrant life.’
That vivid, transparent red instantly brought to mind another’s fiery red hair—so intense it seemed to burn…
Frost cast his gaze toward the distant sky, as if yearning.
Beyond the glacial seas, the barbarians believe that warriors who die bravely in battle ascend to Valhalla, a magnificent celestial palace.
Though the Empire held no such belief, perhaps a knight of Solace Moretti’s caliber might still earn a place in that hall.
Noticing Frost silently staring at the sky, Yuriella frowned in confusion and followed his gaze upward.
‘What on earth is he looking at? There’s nothing up there.’
Just then, a yellow parrot adorned with a red ribbon fluttered toward them, flapping its wings.
—Lady Solace! You’re the best! Lord Frost! You’re so cool!
Shouting what it knew would earn it tasty treats, the parrot landed on Yuriella’s right shoulder.
—Lady Solace! You’re the best! Lady Solace! You’re the best! Lady Solace! You’re the best!
“Hey, stop it…!”
Panicked by the parrot’s loud chanting of Solace’s name, Yuriella flailed her arms wildly.
The parrot fluttered up and landed instead on her left shoulder, chirping insistently for snacks.
—Lady Solace! You’re the best! Lord Frost! You’re so cool!
Though he’d only heard about it from the head butler, this was Frost’s first time seeing the bird himself. He scowled deeply at the sharp talons digging into Yuriella’s delicate shoulder.
He could easily freeze the parrot solid with a mere flicker of aura—but the name spilling from its beak belonged to Solace, making him hesitate to act.
—Lady Solace! You’re the best! Lady Solace! You’re the best!
“Your Grace, why would you train a parrot to say such things?”
“It wasn’t me—the head butler gave it as a gift—”
“Oh! So it was the head butler’s gift. No wonder. That’s far too sweet a gesture for you, Your Grace.”
“…”
Unaware of her liege’s darkening expression, Yuriella tapped the parrot’s head lightly with her fingertip in warning.
“Hey, parrot. Never say the traitor’s name again. Do you have any idea how many people in this very street hold grudges against that traitor? If you don’t want to end up as roasted parrot with all your pretty feathers plucked, please, just be quiet.”
“He’s not a traitor.”
Yuriella froze at the Grand Duke’s words, warm breath brushing over her crown.
“He…”
Frost paused briefly, as if choosing his words carefully, then exhaled a low sigh—revealing a truth he’d never shown anyone before.
“He’s not a traitor. You shouldn’t speak of him so lightly, so easily, with such words.”
Yuriella longed to hear what Frost would say next—but she was almost afraid to listen, wanting to flee instead.
“The flames of Flama embody pure, purifying energy that burns away the world’s filth. How could the soul chosen by the Sword of Fire ever harm people or throw the world into chaos?”
“…But he did harm people. He threw the world into chaos. This North itself was trampled beneath the hooves of his punitive army. How could the supposed guardian of the Empire—the bearer of the Divine Sword—spill the innocent blood of his own people? If that isn’t treason, then what is?”
Yuriella’s voice broke and choked. Even after changing bodies, the scent of blood still clung vividly to her nostrils.
Frost reined in his horse and gave a bitter smile.
“If you, my Lady, had met Captain Solace yourself—if you’d seen him offering his own flesh to monster fangs in place of his men, his muscles torn and bones shattered… if you’d seen him digging through rubble with bleeding fingertips to rescue children trapped in ruins after barbarian raids…”
The Grand Duke remembered the time Yuriella had already forgotten—or rather, had needed to forget.
“You wouldn’t speak so easily of the fiery knight who had to depart without even a single flower to mark his grave. He simply never met a liege worthy of him. The man I knew… was the greatest knight worthy of the Divine Sword Flama.”
Yuriella’s eyes grew hot with unshed tears.
She’d never sought recognition, never expected understanding—let alone to receive it from none other than Frost Eelheim…
Struggling to rein in her swirling emotions, she lowered her head and took a quiet breath.
—Whizz! Whizz! Whizz!
Arrows rained in from all directions.
Mars, struck repeatedly in the hindquarters, reared up with a panicked whinny. Frost pulled Yuriella tightly against him, shielding her with his entire body.
The Emperor, fully aware the Grand Duke was terminally ill, apparently couldn’t even grant him that limited time—and had once again sent assassins without forgetting.
Male lead fell into her trap — and shattered when she walked away
This is also on my reread list!
This one is a slow burn, but when it burns, it burns hard.
Definitely worth a read, y’all!
The story follows a thousand-year-old seductive spirit who, on a bet, sets out to charm the male lead—a once-promising but unfortunate cultivator.
But just when she succeeds in making him fall for her, she heartlessly leaves, driving him to madness.
Determined to find her at all costs, he captures her, keeping her by his side no matter what, even if she hates him.
I love this kind of trope—I enjoy watching the male lead suffer in agony.
The ending drags a bit with unnecessary filler, but that’s fine.
As long as I enjoy the beginning, I’m good.
Intro
As an enchantress, Su Heng possesses captivating eyes and charming beauty, easily manipulating the joys and sorrows of living beings at her fingertips.
But to enchant a god, making him taste the bitterness of love’s separation, long-lasting resentment, unattainable desires, and inability to let go…
Do you dare?
Su Heng assists a divine lord in his cultivation, aiming to make him experience all the sufferings of love, so that he can attain the Great Dao.
Only after being chased down from the heavens by the divine lord, confined and completely possessed by him, does she realize how successful she has been.
The once gentle and polite youth has transformed into someone she no longer recognizes.
[Touch the gear icon in the bottom right corner of the screen to move to the next chapter if you want.]
Hahahaha!!! She is so funny!!!!!! How she changed so much!
I love how she realized she loved him from the begining. But I die seeing him jealous of himself.
Awww