Chesterfield Mansion: The House of the Man Who Hates Me - Chapter 29

Regardless of her will and feelings, Celian belonged to Izer. Whenever Izer wanted, she was there.

Sometimes Izer thought Celian was the only person in this house closer to him than to his adoptive father.

When such thoughts occurred, he would summon Celian regardless of the time. If Celian tried to avoid coming using Percy as an excuse, he would personally ask Percy’s understanding and drag the governess out.

On days when Celian didn’t obey his words readily, rough retaliation invariably followed.

Saying Percy would worry if he heard his teacher’s screams, he would gag Celian’s mouth with various things including his c**k, and he questioned his own sexual preferences. Then, realizing his bizarre position, he would laugh heartily and accept his own nature.

The woman’s reddened eyes as she struggled to breathe properly, the muffled groans begging him to stop, and occasionally even apologies for nonexistent wrongs — these scenes of Celian struggling in distress were Izer’s pleasure.

Just then, Celian twisted her body and let out a cry of ecstasy. It was her third climax. Feeling the wet inner walls, Izer also pleasurably released his seed.

He lay down, still embracing the woman from behind in that position.

Her sweat-drenched nape was damp. Her waist and chest, held tightly, breathed sharply. She seemed worried that any unnecessary movement might stimulate him.

Izer stroked Celian’s hair and murmured.

“I won’t do more. Move comfortably.”

“……”

Despite the permission, she didn’t move. It seemed she didn’t trust the words of the man who still had his shaft inserted between her thighs. Izer, unconcerned, asked.

“I heard you were granted permission for an overnight stay today.”

“……Yes.”

“Why did you come back?”

The answer came after a brief pause.

“Because I had nowhere to go.”

“Don’t you have a friend you left your sister with?”

The man’s tone, having regained his senses, instantly changed to polite. Of course, only the tone. The content and the speaker’s actions were far from polite.

“I’m not close enough with that friend to stay over.”

Celian hadn’t particularly said this to please Izer. She knew that telling this one truth among countless lies, that she wasn’t particularly close with Owen, wouldn’t change anything in her relationship with Izer.

Anyway, whatever answer she gave, Izer’s reaction would have been the same. A reflexive moan escaped through Celian’s teeth when she felt her shoulder being bitten.

A low voice was heard from behind the breath buried in her nape. By now, Celian had grown accustomed to offering her br*easts to Izer’s hands.

Izer continued his actions, which, though familiar, could never be without excitement, and asked,

“Does that friend think the same?”

“You seem very interested.”

Celian answered through gritted teeth. To hide her trembling voice every time the broad palm playfully caressed her flesh.

Since the day she first came to the capital, Celian had never spent the night at Owen’s house where he lived alone. And she never would. She still had enough conscience not to cut off all the marriage prospects coming to the young doctor with a bright future.

Of course, her reasons probably weren’t that important to the man. A languid voice flowed down her spine.

“I don’t have a hobby of sharing one woman with others. It’s dirty, isn’t it?”

If words had a form, the words Izer Chesterfield spoke while laying Celian in his room would be like jelly that failed to set due to poor concentration control. Sticky like syrup or honey, but unpleasant to be simply sweet, and the most important — failed in the manufacturing process.

“If you accidentally get pregnant, we’d have to make sure whose child it is, too.”

“……”

“You’re probably being careful because you wouldn’t want to carry the seed of someone like me.”

By now, Celian was also accustomed to removing emotion from her words. A voice without intonation answered,

“Don’t worry, I won’t ask you to acknowledge me as your mistress even if I have a child.”

“……”

“I won’t block your future by asking to be taken in as a concubine either.”

No matter how diligently Celian took contraceptives, she couldn’t be completely at ease. As Izer said, a baby might suddenly appear.

If a baby were to come, she would silently abort it. Celian’s ultimate goal was to completely disappear from Izer’s life. In the place where she disappeared, Izer should suffer alone, and Celian should find her freedom.

Izer was silent. It seemed her answer was somewhat different from what he had thought.

Celian understood his confusion.

Generally, when a mistress became pregnant, rather than aborting outright, she would demand money. This blackmail was particularly effective on nobles who maintained outward appearances.

Besides, the other party was a ‘Chesterfield’. Izer was a member of a family revered as upright even by the despicable Harris Chesterfield. Now that Izer’s honor was Renée’s honor, a son who loved his mother wouldn’t choose to harm himself.

The silent man opened his mouth.

“Sometimes I think I don’t understand what your intentions are.”

“……”

“You hate me, yet you obediently listen to my words. I thought you might be trying to extort money, but you say that’s not it either.”

His voice, lowered further, rippled.

“You act as if you exist just for me. Have you started feeling sorry?”

The woman’s eyes blinked.

Blink. Once her eyelids closed and opened, her view was filled with the ornate floral wallpaper.

Blink. The next time her eyes opened, she saw the cross-shaped shadow cast on the wallpaper. It was an image created by the window bars.

Another blink. The clear patterns and shadows began to blur. If she moved her hand to wipe away tears, it would reveal that she was moved.

Celian quickly blinked to dry her tears and answered.

“Think as you like. My thoughts aren’t important to you anyway, Young Duke.”

“……”

“Do as you please. I’ll stay still.”

At those words, the man instantly climbed on top. Celian tightly shut her eyes.

Thus, she didn’t see what kind of face Izer was making as he looked at her.

* * *

The rising steam covered the mirror. Among the fine water droplets suspended in the air, the black hair that had been submerged in the bathtub emerged above the water.

The black hair, which had been curly and drooping when dry, now hung limp. Today, the left hand’s role was to brush back the hair sticking to the face. The left hand that completed its task was granted the right to rest on the marble bathtub.

The man slid into the bathtub. The temperature, hotter than his usual bath water, jolted him awake.

‘If she marries Doctor Owen, she won’t have to work as a governess anymore.’

He thought the woman might have changed after facing the harsh reality. But while Izer was twisted, Celian remained the same.

‘No, she didn’t use to say things like ‘think as you like’ before.’

It was Celian who had thought as she liked. The naive noble young lady only knew the world to be beautiful. Izer paid the price for not distinguishing between the protective barrier surrounding her and the real world.

‘Looking at it that way, she has changed.’

Environment shapes a person. The moment a clear goal is set, everything else gets pushed out of focus.

Izer’s goal was to become the Duke of Chesterfield. What was once unimaginable had become his goal. Only then could he repay all those who had reduced him and Renée to this state.

His right hand emerged from the bathtub, dripping water. The fingers that had been exploring the woman’s p*ssy just ten minutes ago moved elegantly, splashing water droplets.

Izer thought,

What could be her goal?

Living day by day, taking responsibility for her sister. In Celian’s current situation, it was impossible to dream of anything more.

‘And yet she says there’s no need to acknowledge her as a mistress……’

Celian Berienne… does she see her past self overlapping with her current image? Is it the thought of maintaining her pride even if she becomes a broken doll? Or is it her intention to deny with a pitiful face when someone asks if the rumor about her being the young duke’s mistress is true?

Or is it a declaration that even if she lies on the bed whenever he calls, she will never give her heart?

‘I didn’t particularly intend to ask for it anyway.’

It was unpleasant just thinking that Celian had imagined such an absurd future.

Izer irritably splashed water on his face. The skin touched by the hot water turned bright red.

It was when he returned, shaking off the water. The man’s eyes, heading towards the bed, sank coldly.

That was the end of the rest of the woman who seemed to have fallen asleep, looking unconscious. The body, heated by the water and burning hot, swallowed her screams.

* * *

Something’s odd about the young governess. Marsha’s eyes narrowed.

Born with a naturally kind and meddlesome nature, Marsha’s observation of ‘something’s odd’ wasn’t necessarily all bad. It meant there was some change, and thus a state that needed care.