20. You Defiled My Pure Body

2023.10.20.

Compared to the days when he had kept his eyes shut and ears closed, it felt strange to find himself lately listening intently to outside gossip.

This morning.

Clade had to admit he had lost the purity he had carefully preserved until the age of 24—a purity he had maintained not by choice, but due to circumstances that had kept women at a distance—while living in the capital, Ciel.

“The mistress must have knocked the master down in one go.”

“Looks like the two of them really took a liking to each other.”

“What on earth happened?”

“They must be getting along just fine! It’s so embarrassing we can’t even sleep at night.”

“I’ve seen you glued to the door, snickering all night long—don’t act so innocent!”

To Clade, the whisper of “What on earth?” clearly translated into: How could a man like Clade possibly end up with someone as twisted and crow-like as her?

He should have considered the maid’s point of view, but by now Clade was incapable of rational thought.

Only an inflated self-justification dominated his throbbing mind.

‘Yes, why me?’

But unlike Chaoya, who had become a monster consumed by pain and was drunk at the time, yesterday he had been perfectly sober, and his memories before the blackout were intact.

He covered his numb, twisted cheek with his hand.

Her audacious lips had touched right here.

‘Fine, let’s say the medicine helped—but are you seriously telling me that human warmth is part of the prescription?’

Yet the results were too powerful to dismiss as mere nonsense.

He had spent two nights—counting Chaoya—free from pain and nightmares.

Was it just about sleep?

Even the agony that normally forced him awake no matter how much sleep medication he swallowed had noticeably lessened.

An image flashed in his mind—one only a shameless flirt like Lancelot Rev would imagine.

‘Now that the pain has eased, perhaps the suppressed desires have surfaced. And by releasing them onto you, the master finally found peace in sleep?’

If only he could remember, at least he wouldn’t feel so wronged.

How could he have no memory at all of what everyone knew had been an intense, passionate night?

He wasn’t so foolish as to not understand what she meant by “human warmth.”

‘Did I actually… sleep with her?’

Clade abruptly yanked the curtains wide open and stood at an awkward angle.

He pressed himself tightly against the wall beside the window so no one below could see him.

The chattering voices abruptly fell silent—only to reveal that the woman who had been troubling his mind was now wandering through the garden.

Her composed face showed little expression as she fussed around a small patch of land near the ornamental trees, where culinary herbs were planted.

“What’s she so busy about?”

The steward Gustav was stunned to see his lord, who usually lay sprawled on a rocking chair staring at the ceiling or with his eyes shut, not only rise on his own and pull back the curtains, but now peer outside.

Still marveling at this unfamiliar sight, Gustav dutifully answered.

“She said she wants to tend to the garden.”

“That was a mutter to myself.”

Gustav, feeling awkward, weakly replied, “Yes…” just as he had yesterday when his master asked the absurd question of whether he and his wife had spent the night together.

“That’s something the servants should handle.”

This time, Gustav started to say “Yes…” again, then flinched at the cold silence that followed.

“Ye-?”

“Ye…?”

“How exactly do you manage the lower staff?”

Since when did you start caring about such things? You’ve barely even stepped outside yourself.

In truth, he didn’t care much at all—it was just an excuse to vent his frustration.

Knowing his master’s prickly nature well, Gustav immediately bowed deeply without a word, apologizing.

But Clade’s gaze didn’t linger on Gustav for long. It returned to the window once more.

His mood was twisted, agitated, or perhaps both.

Gustav, reading Clade’s temperament as usual, was suddenly startled when Clade, to his shock, violently yanked the curtains aside.

…To his astonishment, Clade’s face was deeply flushed.

“Tell them I’m going to sleep.”

“Yes.”

“Leave.”

But who exactly was he telling this to?

Gustav exited the bedroom, accustomed to such dismissals, yet couldn’t help but wonder belatedly about the odd instruction.

***

Yuan was pushing through the busy servants, returning from the storage shed with two logs of firewood.

Two logs were just enough to carry without drawing attention from others.

“What are you doing?”

“Oh, Steward.”

She happened to run into Steward Gustav, who was lingering right in front of her bedroom.

The steward looked utterly bewildered, alternating his gaze between the firewood in her arms and her face, then turned pale and snatched the logs away.

Yuan’s face briefly showed a sulky expression, and Gustav quickly explained.

“It’s not that I’m taking them from you—it’s that such tasks should be left to the servants.”

“Everyone seemed so busy…”

“No matter how much work there is around the house, attending to the mistress is the top priority.”

Yuan stared at the steward, dazed.

Gustav began a lecture, then suddenly remembered why he had come here and cleared his throat with an “Oh dear” expression.

“Though you brought very little luggage… I’ll send a servant to pack for you.”

“Packing?”

Yuan’s voice rose slightly.

Clade had slept peacefully and hadn’t come to see her the next day.

She had been circling her room anxiously all day and had finally decided to help the servants with their work.

She had shown she could contribute—but did that mean she was still going to be driven out?

“Yes. It’s time you officially move into the mistress’s bedroom. Staying in a guest room isn’t proper in the eyes of others.”

“I don’t want to. Wait—what did you say?”

Yuan repeated, looking slightly dazed.

Steward Gustav gave a faint smile and gently scolded her.

“And please, speak more naturally. I may be old, but I know full well that you are the lady of the house.”

Gustav then bowed and said he would take the firewood to the new bedroom before leaving.

Shortly after, Monica and Canaria came to move her modest belongings. Yuan followed them.

The second floor, where Clade’s bedroom was located.

The massive room at the very end of the hallway.

“We hurried to prepare it this morning. How is it, my lady?”

Yuan stared in silence at the room bathed in sunlight streaming through the large windows.

The white chiffon curtains, fluttering gently like Yuan’s heart, swelled and shrank with the breeze.

Every corner touched by light and shadow was filled with elegant, antique furniture, tapestries, and carpets.

Yuan was awed—first by the bedroom’s size, nearly matching Clade’s, then again when she looked up at the magnificent painting filling the high ceiling.

“This was Master Hille’s idea. I couldn’t get instructions to decorate the study, so I arranged various things in this side room.”

Excited Hena pulled a dazed Yuan toward the adjoining side room attached to the bedroom.

Medical books she often borrowed from Hille, herbal texts about the local region, and small items like a silver mortar, pestle, brazier, dropper, and transparent beakers were neatly arranged.

It was a small private laboratory just for her.

“Master Hille went all the way to Central Roxenheart commercial district this morning to buy these.”

“Hena…”

“And this!”

Hena lifted a large walnut pie from the small table, holding it high with a delighted grin.

“She said the mistress’s room should have a pleasant smell, so Grandpa Ralph made this pie with walnuts he roasted in autumn! He told us to keep it a secret between you and me, or the other kids would cause a fuss asking why they didn’t get any. Heehee.”

On a cozy tea table tucked into a corner of the spacious bedroom, Hena stood proudly, eyes sparkling, having brewed tea just for Yuan—despite the head chef’s orders.

Yuan repeatedly invited Hena to join her, and the two shared the still-warm walnut pie.

Yuan’s pale face, tense until now, finally flushed with warmth.

It was the first room she had ever truly had to herself since she turned ten.

Back in Pelliese, she had shared a shabby room with Louise, and even that space was constantly invaded by people—hardly a proper room at all.

“Can I really decorate this place however I want?”

“Of course! The steward said he’s already summoned a merchant for you.”

Hena’s chattering voice, the warm sunlight, the rich, sweet taste of pie filling her mouth.

At last, Yuan had a place of her own in this mansion.

She spent a long time laughing and chatting with Hena, soaking in the warmth and peace.

And all the while, a strange, tingling sensation stirred deep in her stomach.

***

“Hey. We need to talk.”

Clade finally approached Yuan exactly three days after their last night together.

It was right after two merchants, arriving in ornate carriages, had met with Yuan and left the black mansion.

Yuan, who had been watching them leave from the garden, heard a voice drift from the open window and knew this moment had finally come.

Clade, looking up at her, appeared more haggard than he had three days ago.

The dark circles under his eyes, which had briefly faded, had returned, and his bloodshot eyes looked like balloons about to burst.

Startled by Clade’s sudden summons, Yuan went up to his bedroom.

“I need you.”

Clade stated his purpose before she had even sat down.

Just from the scattered painkillers, his bloodshot eyes, and trembling hands, she could guess what he wanted.

In truth, Clade had been utterly miserable these past three days, crushed by the pain that had returned with a vengeance.

His body, which had enjoyed peaceful sleep for the first time in ten years after falling for the trick, was now different.

The same pain now felt twice as intense—sometimes even three times worse.

If he hadn’t endured by piercing both the backs of his hands with needles, Clade might have already stormed into Yuan’s bedroom two days ago and demanded she immediately carry out that damned prescription.

“Do you remember? Chaoya, and the day after.”

Yuan asked, though she already knew he didn’t.

Clade fell silent for a moment, then nodded.

He considered it a man’s shame to not remember two nights so loud and wild that the whole mansion had heard—yet Clade absolutely refused to reveal his weakness.

Perhaps it was better not to remember.

How much that damned crow had defiled his grotesque, pure body.