Sorry, the Patricidal Tyrant Seems Beastly (1 Chapters Left to Complete) - Chapter 4
Benjamin lazily drew in a breath.
“Do you like wine?”
The languid question fell. His voice followed, soft and murmuring.
“In the Windsor family, everyone—men, women, young, and old—loves wine. What about you?”
“I inherited my mother’s taste for it. She enjoyed it often when she was alive.”
“…Charlotte, was it?”
Charlotte nodded.
“That blood runs deep. Even your preferences mirror each other closely.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes. The presence is unmistakable—just as I recognized you as a Windsor the moment I first saw you.”
As he said. The Windsor blood truly ran deep.
Even in appearance and minor preferences, the very blood her own father despised so intensely flowed thickly within Charlotte.
“Do you have a place to recommend?”
“What kind of place?”
“You asked if I liked wine.”
“Do you usually go anywhere specific?”
Benjamin neatly buttoned his shirt without fuss. His gaze slowly trailed after her.
Charlotte held her breath once more. Something felt tightly constricting her chest.
Perhaps it was his immaculate movements—she nearly forgot he was even injured.
Charlotte waited until Benjamin finished putting on his jacket before answering.
“There’s a tavern owned by Roskella—famous for its wine.”
It’s the very place your subordinate managed in my past life.
Benjamin’s hand stilled. He lifted his head, met her eyes, and then carefully smoothed his jacket sleeve.
He was strikingly different from the first time he’d stepped into the Windsor mansion—now impeccably composed.
“…Have I been there before?”
“No. I plan to go today.”
Benjamin silently stared at her for a few seconds before turning away.
“The Ailia wine there is excellent. A thirty-year vintage should satisfy even the Windsor palate.”
With those words, Benjamin fell silent. Why? His distant, downward gaze felt unusually heavy.
Charlotte answered with a faint smile in her eyes. Benjamin departed, receiving only a light farewell.
As Charlotte watched his retreating figure, Benjamin seemed to sense her gaze and slowly turned back.
“See you again.”
We both sensed it—this wasn’t the end.
“See you again, Your Highness.”
That day, Benjamin left after only treating his wound. The Windsor estate returned to quiet.
As if forgetting Benjamin ever existed, no one even spoke his name. They were already accustomed to such routines.
“Charlotte.”
After Benjamin left, Aster called Charlotte aside to speak.
“Did His Highness say anything else?”
“He only said he’d see me again.”
“What do you mean, ‘see you again’? What exactly does he plan to see?! Does he even realize who he’s—?!”
“Yes?”
“Never mind. Forget it. I was just worrying over nothing.”
When Charlotte asked what he meant, Aster simply brushed her off: “He’s just a bad sort—don’t associate with him.”
[This is the timeline separator]“Miss!”
Someone knocked on the carriage door. The coachman made his presence known outside.
“What could you possibly be thinking about that you didn’t hear me calling?”
Charlotte cast her gaze far beyond the carriage window. She must have dozed off briefly.
“We’ve arrived.”
Charlotte opened the carriage door and stepped down. She didn’t need to look around—this path was familiar.
It was right before the same route she’d taken once before.
The horse shook its head with a soft snort. As the coachman calmed the animal, he asked her,
“Are you really returning alone?”
“Probably. At least, that’s my current plan…”
That was why she’d gone out alone, wearing a beret.
“I won’t be late, so you may leave first.”
Charlotte replied with a nod. Once she confirmed the coachman had gone, she touched her lips.
“Is this the right place?”
The narrow alley felt familiar—it was where she’d met Benjamin.
The very person her own father hated most—the future sovereign of the imperial house.
That man stood right before her now.
His mere existence made her father foam at the mouth, grow hypersensitive, and curse him to death.
The one branded a moral degenerate, a traitor to family ethics.
Even if he were a moral degenerate, so what? It wouldn’t matter. Even if he carried moral flaws, it wouldn’t matter.
As long as those flaws didn’t affect me personally—what if they did? What would it matter?
His being despised by my own father is reason enough.
That alone is sufficient reason to thrust my head into the serpent’s jaws.
‘Roskella’s Tavern’
It had been Benjamin’s intelligence hub outside the palace, managed by his advisor.
He’d also encountered Benjamin near this very spot.
‘I think we bumped into each other somewhere around here…’
Then this must be the place.
She carefully regulated her breathing. Her chest slowly settled, as if expelling the chill that had seeped deep into her lungs.
The narrow alley was barely wide enough for one adult man to pass through. Beyond it stood a tavern. Honestly, her memory was hazy—she was retracing faint recollections—but this seemed about right.
Charlotte removed her beret and looked up at the sign.
‘Roskella’s Tavern.’
It was a modest establishment. As she opened the door, a small bell chimed.
-jingle-
The rich aroma of wine filled the tavern. A man wiping a glass turned at the sound of the bell.
“Oh? So you’re a customer?”
Charlotte stood at the threshold, glancing around inside.
“Yes, I am. May I sit here?”
She placed her beret on the table and pulled a chair to sit at an Irish-style table.
“The menu’s over there. Take a look and order whatever you—”
“One glass of wine made from Ailia grapes. It must be thirty years old.”
The man wiping glasses was Franz, the bartender.
“A customer seeking Ailia wine? Huh? Are you some rare connoisseur, miss? Are you alone?”
“For now, yes.”
“We also have fruit cheese that pairs wonderfully with wine—would you like some?”
“If it has raisins, please leave those out.”
“What? Why leave out raisins? They’re the most important part! You’re drinking Ailia wine but skipping the raisin fruit cheese?”
Franz brought out the Ailia wine and fruit cheese. Since she’d asked to omit raisins, he served fruit cheese made from dried apples.
The cheese melted gently in her mouth. She swirled the wine lightly in her hand and took a sip.
“Where’s the owner?”
“Oh, you know Lord Roskella?”
“Not personally. But the tavern’s named after him, isn’t it?”
“Ah, right! I nearly forgot.”
“The wine quality is excellent. I didn’t expect much, given how tucked away this place is.”
She took another sip of wine. Just then, a shadow fell behind her. He covered her head with a robe, as if already knowing who she was.
“Charlotte.”
Benjamin leaned down, bracing himself against the table edge.
“We meet again.”
The one who would ruin me.
“You said we’d see each other again—did I come too soon?”
“Earlier than expected, yes.”
We quietly studied each other. And instantly recognized it—we needed one another.
He calculated Charlotte’s usefulness, his sharp gaze dissecting her thoroughly.
Yes. You must have felt it too, right then.
We would roll together in the mire.
And I’ll gladly tumble into that filth.
Charlotte took a sip of wine and rolled her eyes slightly. Her breath fogged the glass.
“Did you tell Aster you’d come here?”
“My uncle doesn’t know I’m here.”
“So you came alone.”
“I plan to return alone as well.”
As Charlotte finished her wine, Benjamin took the glass from her.
“The Windsor bloodline truly is obsessed with wine.”
Benjamin clicked his tongue.
“How did you find this place?”
“Isn’t it rather famous?”
“Roskella does collect fine wines well.”
“Yes. The quality is superb. I drank the Ailia wine you recommended.”
Benjamin scrutinized her intently. He was mentally calculating—what to do with you? That was the look in his eyes.
As she brushed back her curly hair, the door opened again. Franz called out.
“Lord Roskella, is that you?”
“Tch. Why’s there rain right when I’m almost here?”
Roskella grumbled as he shook off the dampness clinging to his clothes.
“Master, your umbrella’s huge—why walk alone? You refuse to share it with a man, is that it? Ugh! My undergarments are soaked through! You truly have no heart or tears! Have you forgotten the day I stitched your shattered forearm back together, stitch by stitch?”
“Lord Roskella, there’s a guest seated ahead.”
Roskella’s eyes widened as if just noticing Charlotte.
“Franz, prepare a seat for her inside.”
She turned her gaze toward the entrance. The sparse sound of raindrops could be heard.
[This is the timeline separator]“Here’s a hangover remedy. Drink it all.”
Roskella handed her a green bottle of hangover cure.
“If you talk to His Highness while intoxicated, you’ll be tossed around like a leaf.”
Charlotte accepted it and barely dipped her tongue in. A sharp minty bitterness spread. Though she hadn’t drunk enough wine to warrant a remedy, she drank it all anyway—his aide wouldn’t offer it without reason.
“Sigh. Even stone-cold sober, he’s hard to keep up with—and our miss here is careless…”
Roskella clicked his tongue, glancing at Benjamin.
“Your Highness, you can’t treat her like one of your men.”
“You’ve said enough. Leave.”
“Sigh! Can’t you be a little kinder to me?”
She set down the empty remedy bottle and gave Roskella a meaningful look.
“You two seem rather close, don’t you? Your Highness, isn’t it unkind to treat so poorly the one who stitched your shattered forearm, stitch by stitch?”
Roskella turned to his superior with a plaintive expression.
“Your Highness? Did you hear that? Even this stranger here sympathizes with me—isn’t this going too far? I stitched not just your forearm but even the inside of your thigh, stitch by stitch, and you—!”
“Roskella, you’re noisy.”
Benjamin dismissed him. Charlotte glanced at Roskella with renewed curiosity.
‘He’s different from what I expected.’
In her past life, Roskella had been ruthless and resolute.
‘He was the one who compiled the death ledger beside the deposed Crown Prince.’
The current emperor had long been bedridden with severe illness, and the palace was in chaos. No one except the Empress could even approach him.
The deposed Crown Prince’s slaughter of his own family and relatives to seize the throne would happen years from now.
Benjamin would purge opposing factions to strengthen imperial authority—and Roskella, holding that death ledger as his strategist, would be the one to carry out the purge.
“Then rest here for a while, Miss Charlotte.”
After Roskella left, Benjamin sat with his fingers interlaced.
“Charlotte.”
That nickname sounded this familiar—did it mean she’d grown this accustomed to him?
“Aren’t you being too reckless?”
“Have I been?”
“You lack caution entirely.”
Charlotte shrugged. It was true—she’d let her guard down in front of him. Naturally, Benjamin would be the first to notice she’d dropped her defenses before the very person she should fear most.
“You…”
Benjamin murmured slowly.
“…should be a bit more cautious.”
She was beginning to understand why Aster had called him ill-tempered.
“So that’s why he gave me the hangover cure before leaving.”
Let your guard down, and you’re easy to manipulate.
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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