Tak.
There was a small sound as the butler, who had meant to announce morning, closed the door again. But in the bedchamber thick with lewd heat, no one noticed it.
The instant Ezekiel opened his eyes, he dragged Olivia’s body into his arms. On the slender, white nape he had left clear prints of his mouth and teeth.
He had indulged himself to his fill last night, yet at morning his desire swelled full again. And there was no reason to restrain it.
He pulled her frail body closer and lightly rubbed her belly. Perhaps because she had been subjected to him without pause, there was no flesh to feel—only a flat, narrow belly and waist that trembled like a spasm when he stroked them with pressure, rousing the exhausted sleeper. Sleeping or not made no difference, but it was more enjoyable if she woke, so he bit her collarbone, hard enough to hurt.
“…Nnh.”
At last Olivia woke with a sound of pain. A dazed glaze drifted across her beautiful aquamarine eyes, and the instant they met Ezekiel’s, they twisted.
Ezekiel chuckled, but inwardly grew tense. This woman truly made him strange. Forcing down what someone hates has its own pleasures, yet every time Olivia’s hatred of him was plain to see, something hot surged up in his chest.
“Am I grotesque to you? A monster?”
“……”
“What can you do. Accept it. You belong to that monster.”
Olivia said nothing. Rage flared in Ezekiel; pressing on her throat, he glared.
“Forever.”
“……”
Even so, not a word spilled from her lips.
It had been three months since he took her captive. In all that time, Ezekiel had not heard a single word of hatred. Whether he gave pain or gave pleasure, all he ever got were short, involuntary moans when she was driven to the edge of what she could endure… and each time, Ezekiel burned with an ungovernable fury. The physician said she seemed to have lost her speech from shock, but Ezekiel felt she was resisting him.
She was a woman who would not be bent to his will. She stoked his temper this much, and yet he found no desire to simply break her and throw her away.
No matter how he slaked it, his hunger did not know satisfaction. By now he should have been sick of it, yet touching this woman’s skin and rummaging inside her was never enough.
“Treat her gently. If her heart opens, her mouth will naturally open as well.”
Grumbling at the notion of lavishing such care on a mere plaything, he nevertheless recalled the physician’s advice and, with a soft gesture, took her cheek and made her look at him.
“What are you thinking about?”
Olivia shut her eyes. True, asking questions was pointless to a woman who could not speak.
Ezekiel exercised patience and pressed his lips to hers. There was no response to the kiss, but they were warm and sweet.
It was then.
A commotion rose outside the door. The butler’s voice boomed loud enough to carry through the thick oak.
“You mustn’t!”
“If there’s nothing to hide, why shouldn’t I go in!”
Bang—!
With Roella’s sharp voice, the door flew open as if kicked.
Ezekiel, who had just been groping Olivia’s groin and pushing his index finger into her entrance, flinched. Roella froze at the sight of the two entangled, then in the next instant flew at Olivia like a madwoman.
“You shameless whore!!!”
“Roella!”
Ezekiel had not expected Roella to cast aside even the bare minimum of dignity and rush them; his movement was a beat late. Roella seized Olivia’s hair with both hands and yanked, hard.
Olivia did not even scream. Dragged as Roella pulled, she tumbled off the bed. Ezekiel, not even thinking to pull on clothes, grabbed Roella’s arm and twisted.
“Aagh!”
“What do you think you’re doing?”
He glowered at Roella, face dark. Roella thrashed like a fury. He flung her aside to the floor, then lifted Olivia and sat her back on the bed.
Roella watched, stunned. She had thought—surely not, surely not. She had heard rumors that Ezekiel kept a mistress in his bedchamber and handled her like a candy stick, but she had not believed them.
And yet it was true. And it was Olivia. She shrieked in frenzy,
“What do you think you’re doing! Our wedding is next week! Have you lost your senses, bewitched by that hussy?!”
Ezekiel pulled a sheet around Olivia’s body and answered,
“My private life is none of your concern, Roella.”
Keeping one or two mistresses was no great matter. He always had. Roella’s outburst was what felt strange. But Roella, oblivious even to her makeup running, burst into a ruinous sobbing fit.
“How is this private! I’m about to be your wife! And Olivia—how can it be Olivia of all people…!”
“Take Bia somewhere quiet.”
Paying no mind to Roella’s screeching, Ezekiel entrusted Olivia to the butler.
Seeing that, Roella began to weep with an even more shocked expression. Donning a gown with irritation, Ezekiel said to her,
“The false princess has already been recorded as dead. There’s no one to prove who that wench is, and no one to help her, so stop fretting. She’s just a toy.”
So he said, yet Roella would not stop crying. He had had other mistresses before, and Roella had not intended to compete with such women. He was a man equally unfeeling to all, and whoever he drew into his bed, it would only be a game anyway.
But Olivia was different. Not because she was a rival.
Roella knew the way he looked at Olivia. She knew it perhaps better than anyone.
Because Roella herself looked at him the most ardently—so keenly that she missed not a single glance, gesture, or word.
All Olivia heard from the corridor was up to that exchange. In truth, she had no need to pay attention beyond it. It was not her concern.
For the moment, the butler who led her to another room placed a gown over her shoulders and spoke with formal courtesy.
“Let us go to the annex. I will have a bath and a meal prepared there.”
Olivia nodded and, following him, slowly crossed the Schwaben ducal manor.
'At last.'
This time it came sooner than she had expected.
The annex had been put in immaculate order. The butler had likely tidied it from the start with an eye to moving her there.
Between Roella and Ezekiel, the hierarchy was clear: Ezekiel above, Roella below. From the beginning, Roella’s mother had been trained by the Schwaben household to stand in for the empress and sent to the emperor’s side.
Even so, one could not wholly ignore Roella, a princess and the empress-to-be. And so, to soothe Roella’s feelings, Ezekiel sent Olivia to the annex.
It was the same every time. This was the third.
And this time too, she endured it. Every night and every morning, she endured as the man she hated trampled her mercilessly—waiting for the day she would come here.
Standing still in the cozy, beautiful parlor of the annex, she waited for the butler to withdraw. As he left, he locked the parlor door.
It did not matter. Striding quickly to the parlor fireplace, she looked over the small, pretty antiques arranged there—mere ornaments.
She picked up one she could hold in one hand: a small jewelry box. Set along the lid were two long rows of tiny jeweled buttons.
With this alone, she could begin again.