The next morning, whether thanks to the medicine’s effect or not, her body felt light as a lie, but the space beside her was already cold and empty.

“…Hah.”

Adela reached out and felt the warmth-less empty spot, then let out a short sigh. Her body was light, but one corner of her heart felt hollow.

Leon’s declaration that he would take her all night was no empty words. He drove relentlessly until just before dawn, and Adela lost consciousness twice in the process.

Every time she came back to her senses, Leon was still pressed against her. He could not let go of Adela, like a starving beast.

Adela’s body responded willingly to Leon’s desperate hunger. The fact that she was the one making him this ravenous, and the sensation of being alive and sharing his breath, was a greater joy than anything else.

With careful sounds of movement, maids brought water for washing and tea.

Startled by the unexpected entrance, Adela hurried to pull her robe toward her, but she was already fully exposed without a stitch on. Adela suppressed her shame and took a sip of tea. Then a maid bowed her head and conveyed the message.

“We will bring your meal shortly, Lady Adela.”

“……”

In her past life, these same people whispered that she was Valent’s slave or a witch, and to her face she was nothing but a lowly ‘you.’

Perhaps that was why.

Being called her own name with courtesy felt strangely unfamiliar and awkward.

“No need for a meal. I have no appetite.”

When Adela indicated her refusal, the flustered maid quickly added.

“The master ordered that you must eat, my lady.”

“…All right.”

Adela nodded weakly, and the maid slipped out of the room without a sound.

Left alone again, Adela only then noticed her body was not sticky. She was certain she was soaked in sweat and disheveled, yet her skin was strangely clean and smooth.

‘…After sweating that much?’

On top of that, Leon spent all night leaving greedy marks all over her body. Only then did Adela recall that once night fell, no one was permitted to set foot near her bedroom on the second floor.

“Good heavens……”

There was no doubt Leon personally washed her while she was unconscious. The moment that thought crossed her mind, her pale face flushed red like a ripe pomegranate.

They already bared everything to each other, but him wiping down her defenseless sleeping body was an entirely different matter. Imagining his hands, more careful than necessary, made her feel more ashamed rather than less.

“…Hah.”

Adela shook her head in embarrassment, and her gaze landed on her own gaunt, thin arm. The night before, Leon ran his hands roughly over her bones several times and scolded her with evident displeasure.

The thought of Ingram Kasvah’s full figure crossed her mind, and Adela’s brow furrowed faintly. She already knew well that the two were engaged in childhood.

‘Is my figure too poor for seduction?’

Her mood souring for no good reason, Adela moved to bite her lip out of habit and stopped herself. If she left a mark, Leon would surely erupt in anger and lecture her again.

“I should get dressed quickly.”

Adela pushed herself up from the bed and reached for her chemise.

Her reflection in the mirror was nothing short of wretched. Purple bruises bloomed here and there, and the fresh handprint from yesterday remained vivid and red.

Anyone else who saw it would take it for unmistakable evidence of *buse. Only then did she understand why the maid’s eyes trembled so precariously earlier.

She reached out and touched the marks on her nape and collarbone, and the sensation of Leon’s long thick fingers spreading ointment there the night before came back to life.

He was angry throughout, but the fingertips tracing her wounds were clearly trembling in small, faint shakes.

That subtle wavering was surely a good sign.

Adela finished putting on her chemise and stared hard into the mirror.

In her past life, she only ever saw marks like these as shame, but now it was different.

‘Your heart is wavering too, isn’t it, Leon?’

Leon’s rough possessiveness was the most certain proof that he could not let go of her.

Adela ran her eyes over the bruises in the mirror and made a quiet vow.

That someday she would turn even that hatred into longing for her.

‘First, I need to get rid of Ingram.’

She had no interest in any more discord between the two of them. Adela lifted her chin, and her green eyes shone cold.

* * *

Ingram Kasvah’s mood was not too bad that morning.

When she heard that Leon visited that wretched woman’s bedroom again the previous night, rage rose to the top of her head, but a quiet report from the attending maid eased her anger.

‘She was covered head to toe in purple bruises. It seems she suffered terrible *buse through the night.’

The Leon she reunited with was colder than before, but he was still a man who had not lost the dignity of a distinguished family. Adela, once the Princess of Valent, was now nothing more than a lowly slave of Urcheka.

Between two people with a deep-rooted grudge between them, there was no room for anything like affection to slip in. Ingram was certain.

“He’s simply using her to vent.”

Unable to resist the urge to see it with her own eyes, Ingram summoned Adela.

When Adela came to stand in the middle of the bedroom, Ingram, reclining at an angle on the bed receiving a massage, looked Adela over from head to toe without any attempt to hide it.

“…Strip that woman’s shawl off and put her hair up.”

Before Ingram’s order was even finished, two maids grabbed Adela’s arms roughly. When the shawl was forcibly removed, the deep purple bruises and the vivid marks from the night before were laid bare across her white, slender nape.

They were clearly marks of *buse, yet they were proof that Leon’s hands touched her. Perhaps even Leon’s lips.

Ingram shook off the maid’s massaging hands and climbed down from the bed, looking Adela over like a spectacle.

“Women like you are called wh*res, aren’t they? A cheap thing who sells her body to beg for her life.”

“Lady Kasvah, please show mercy.”

Watching Adela tremble finely and plead with difficulty, deep disgust and contempt settled in Ingram’s eyes.

“Even a wandering beggar from the capital would have more dignity than you.”

Ingram raised her hand high, and frightened, Adela pressed her hands together and begged desperately.

“My lady, please… not a wound. Count Fershtein will……”

The name of Leon from the mouth of a lowly woman made Ingram lose her reason and snatch Adela by the collar roughly.

“How dare you mention his name with that filthy mouth!”

Ingram yanked at the collar in a frenzy, and her sharply kept nails raked deep down Adela’s delicate nape.

“Ah……!”

With a short cry, Adela was shoved backward. Along with a burning pain, hot blood gushed down the line of her neck. Over the deep marks Leon left, the ugly nail scratches Ingram made overlaid in red.

“You deserve to be beheaded this instant, just like your parents!”

Unable to contain her rising fury, Ingram lunged again, and the nanny standing nearby hurried to block her.

“Miss, you must restrain yourself! What is there to gain by dealing with such a lowly slave? Get that woman out of here at once!”

Collapsed on the floor, Adela looked down at the bloodstain soaking her dress and let a faint smile cross her face where no one could see it.

‘…That’s enough.’

When she was told to leave, Adela staggered out into the corridor. Hoping the blood running down her neck would catch Leon’s eye, she moved her feet slowly.

* * *

The tip of Leon’s pen stopped as he skimmed through documents. In that instant, ink spread across the paper and made a black stain.

Just a few hours ago, the lingering image of Adela beneath him, pale and gasping for breath, kept covering the words on the page.

He was certain he meant to vent his anger, yet he was the one who clung with relentless desperation.

Self-loathing mixed with irritation, and Leon crumpled the stained paper roughly.

Since leaving Valent, he never let any woman close. So the reaction of the night before was nothing but pent-up desire finally breaking free.

He deceived himself that way.

Leon let out a sigh and looked quietly down at the hand holding the pen.

Then the sensation of his own fingertips trembling faintly while spreading ointment on Adela’s cheek came back to him. What if that cunning woman saw it and misread it as a sign that he still had feelings left for her?

Unable to hide his displeasure, Leon furrowed his brow and set down his pen with irritation.

Just then, the strategist’s polite voice came from outside the door.

“My lord, it is Hardt.”