I Have No Choice but to Run Away

No wonder.

She had thought the head maid had been summoning them unusually often. Of course, Beth was not the only one being questioned. Every servant who had entered and left Sveta’s bedchamber was being called in.

She had already sensed as much, which was why she had been careful with her answers.

But that was all.

In truth, Beth was not particularly worried.

‘Beka Smiden’ was the very embodiment of a diligent life.’

Orphaned at fifteen, Beka had walked a tearful road before earning recognition for her laundry skills as the washerwoman of a blind baroness. She had lived single-mindedly, doing nothing but work from dawn to dusk.

That was precisely why Beth had approached her.

No acquaintances. No family. Not a single blemish on her records—a perfect shell.

As long as she did not misspeak, she would remain safe.

“I heard the master ordered it himself.”

“Why?”

“How would I know? Who can understand what goes on in the master’s mind?”

“Oh, come on, Amy. You don’t even know for sure.”

After glancing around, Amy lowered her voice.

“But I think… maybe the master can’t accept that the young lady ran away on her own. Maybe he loved her too much. So he’s taking it out on us instead. Ugh… what if we get misunderstood and thrown out?”

‘As if.’

Beth let out a quiet scoff.

Wasn’t he the kind of man who regarded Sveta as little more than a bed slave? He was probably enraged that his slave had dared to betray him.

‘Even so, there’s nothing to gain from provoking a wounded beast.’

Beth muttered under her breath.

“We really should lie low for a while.”

By her judgment, Aiden Strilland was a relentless man. The way he had obsessed over Sveta alone proved that his possessiveness was far from normal.

‘Poor Sveta.’

As was her habit, Beth felt a fleeting pang of pity for Sveta, even as she tuned out Amy’s nervous prattling and sank into her own thoughts.

‘Thank goodness I put Sveta on that fruit merchant’s wagon that day.’

The money-hungry merchant had testified that she had been with him.

True, Beth had been forced to hand over every coin she had saved as hush money, but in the end, her alibi was spotless.

‘That’s right. There’s nothing to worry about.’

Just as she neatly organized the turmoil in her mind, an irritating remark slipped from Amy’s mouth.

“But about Lady Noma… do you really think she did it herself? Things feel so ominous lately.”

“She must have jumped on her own. What—do you think someone pushed her?”

At Beth’s sharp question, Amy flushed.

“Hey, why are you snapping at me? I’m just worried.”

“Worried about what? Your job?”

“That too, but… I’m worried about Lady Noma as well.”

Beth scoffed again, and Amy muttered softly,

“Everyone says Lady Noma isn’t the type to do something like that. I just hope she wakes up soon and clears things up.”

‘How tiresome.’

Swallowing her rising irritation, Beth answered lazily,

“Yeah, sure. Me too.”

By then, they had left the servants’ hall and entered the narrow corridor leading down to the laundry room.

As the space tightened and their bodies drew closer, Amy sniffed the air.

“But Beka, what’s that scent? Are you wearing perfume?”

“Huh? Oh. Yes.”

“It smells like roses. I feel like I’ve smelled it somewhere before.”

“Where else? I bought it off the street, so you must’ve smelled it on the street. It’s cheap perfume.”

“Is that so?”

Tilting her head, Amy rounded the corner and stepped into the laundry room.

Beth lingered behind, intending to slack off for a moment. She set the basket down carelessly and muttered under her breath.

“Why did she have to survive… She should’ve died that day.”

***

“Master.”

The head maid bowed deeply. Each night, it was Mariette’s duty to give Sveta her sleeping draught and see to her bedding.

Reclining in the armchair, Aiden slowly sipped his wine, its scent faintly tinged with unripe fruit.

“The medicine?”

“She took it without leaving a drop. I just confirmed that she has fallen asleep.”

“…You’ve done well.”

Mariette lowered her head further and waited for him to rise.

After draining the last of his glass, Aiden adjusted the robe that had fallen slightly open. Once satisfied with his neat appearance, he crossed into the adjoining bedchamber with measured, unhurried steps.

The darkened room was silent.

Sveta’s eyes were swollen and raw, as though she had wept all evening. Aiden lay down carefully and drew her into his arms.

“Berry…”

Another nightmare, it seemed.

Her forehead—round and pale as the moon—was damp with sweat. As she murmured the same familiar sleep-talk, he cradled her head and whispered,

“Hush… It’s all right.”

He had no choice but to give her medicine to help her sleep through the nights she spent crying. And yet, even then, she never seemed to fall into true rest.

All night long, Aiden held her as she muttered faint, fragmented words.

It was the same day repeated.

When morning came, she struggled desperately to slip from his arms. When he entered with her midday meal, she avoided him, hiding somewhere out of sight. By the time the moon rose, she would collapse into sleep with inflamed, reddened eyes.

Through all of it, Aiden asked nothing.

He could not understand why she had run away after confessing her love so tenderly—nor why she had cherished even the single flower he had given her as though it were something priceless.

Not what “Berry” meant.

***

Another full month passed.

A cold draft slipped through the cracks of the shuttered windows with the winter wind, and Sveta coughed softly. She must have awakened early.

Careful not to make a sound, Aiden added a few more logs to the fireplace.

It was then that she sat up slowly and, for the first time in two months, spoke.

“Your Grace.”

Crackle, crackle.

The firelight painted his blond hair in shades of orange as it flickered against the flames.

Watching him, Sveta spoke weakly.

“I have a request.”

Her voice sounded small even to her own ears, yet Aiden seemed to catch every word.

Still kneeling by the hearth with one knee on the floor, he rose slowly.

“What is it?”

“Promise me first that you’ll grant it.”

His red lips formed a cool reply without the slightest hesitation.

“If I deem it reasonable.”

“Then I won’t say it.”

“Why?”

“Because you won’t grant it.”

His approaching footsteps were silent.

The quiet, deliberate movement was terrifying—like the tread of a predator closing in on its prey.

Her pale blue eyes trembled.

“I will make an effort.”

He said gently as he came near, a soft smile curving his lips.

That, too, was likely the leisure of a predator.

He was only kind now because he was in a good mood.

If something displeased him again, he would surely lock her away somewhere and watch her suffer without intervention.

The thought drained the courage she had forced herself to gather.

“Please… let me go.”

“To where?”

At that moment, the sound that slipped past his red lips was unusually low and rough.

Like the growl of a great beast.

Sveta shrank without meaning to, her shoulders drawing inward.

“Anywhere.”

“No.”

Aiden sat down on the bed. The mattress dipped deeply toward his weight.

“Then at least let me go outside.”

“That is not possible either.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s cold.”

“……”

It was a ridiculous excuse.

She thought of the knight standing guard beneath the window, and of the door that would not open no matter how hard she pulled or pounded.

‘Because it’s cold….’

Was that not far too flimsy a reason to justify months of confinement?

Perhaps this man truly thought of her as such a thing—someone who would believe whatever nonsense he uttered.

A foolish mistress. A trivial bed slave…

“Ask for something else.”

He smiled again. His slightly narrowed eyes seemed to pierce straight through her thoughts, and her heart began to pound violently.

It felt as though he had seen through her intention—to make an unreasonable request first, only to obtain what she truly wanted.

Clutching the blanket tightly where he could not see, Sveta spoke.

“I don’t want to take sleeping draught anymore.”

“……”

“It’s too bitter. It makes my head ache.”

“…Very well.”

“And please call Lady Nora as well.”

“If you dine with me at noon.”

“……”

One meal.

It was the same meal he brought her every day anyway. That much, she could endure.

His deep green eyes—dark as a marsh—fixed steadily upon her. Urged by his silent insistence, Sveta gave a small nod.

“Every day.”

“No. I won’t agree to that.”

“You may meet that maid whenever you wish.”

He climbed onto the bed and drew closer, lifting her chin with his index finger.

His dry gaze slid slowly over the long line of her neck. Her mouth went dry with tension.

“Why don’t you answer?”

“You’ll do as you please anyway.”

“……”

“Even if I meet someone I choose, you’ll assign guards to watch us.”

She retreated, sitting precariously at the edge of the bed as though she might fall, deliberately avoiding his eyes.

As if he would not tolerate her evasion, his arms—solid as carved timber—reached out and pulled her back. Against such overwhelming strength, resistance was meaningless.

He laid Sveta down in the center of the bed and drew the blanket over her before whispering,

“Do not hide anymore.”

“……”

His conditions continued.

“And do not attempt to run.”