The attendants, too, seemed struck with the same shock, for the shop fell instantly silent.

What was this? Unexpected, unimaginable… All manner of adjectives and adverbs rolled uselessly through Rene’s mind.

Startled back into her role, she quickly bowed her head.

“…It is an honor to receive you, Your Grace, Duke of Strilland.”

With flawless composure, he inclined his head and stepped inside the shop.

The attendants hurried to lock the doors and draw the curtains.

“Will you be able to prepare a gown to be worn in ten days’ time?”

“Ah—of course, Your Grace…!”

Rene answered at once, then belatedly began her calculations.

‘A gown for the duke’s mistress would have to be dazzling, and such finery would demand enormous labor.’

And with that face, that beauty—it would require an abundance of jewels to match. Which meant her entire staff would have to work sleeplessly for ten nights straight.

Despite her tangled thoughts, Rene forced a bright smile and signaled to her employees.

“What style does Your Grace prefer?”

At once, the staff brought forth three of their most expensive gowns.

Betty lifted a black dress.

“This is the current fashion in Terris. Regal, isn’t it? The design features bold, thick golden vines in an intricate pattern.”

“Next, this gown was imported from Swenia, the land of art. The fabric is light and flowing…”

But when the duke’s gaze tilted ever so slightly, it was clear he disliked the deeply plunging neckline.

Rene, flustered, gestured sharply, and the gown vanished from sight at once.

“The fashionable color in Prisada these days is sky blue. As for this fabric…”

The duke lowered his gaze to his mistress’s petite face. Seizing the moment, Renée also scrutinised her closely.

Her large eyes, set with delicate sky-blue irises, gave her a bold appearance. The straight, high bridge of her nose matched current ideals of beauty perfectly.

Below that, her apricot-coloured lips looked soft and plump. Overall, her features were balanced and flawless.

‘Where could he have found such a beauty…’

The duke wrapped an arm around the slender shoulders of his mistress and said.

“The last gown suits you best.”

Pressing close to him, she lifted her face. Her sensuous lips moved with gentle grace.

“Does it? But I want them all.”

As she lifted the corners of her mouth, her rounded cheeks gleamed with a soft, pearlescent lustre.

The Duke of Strilland gave a faint chuckle. Though his smile vanished quickly, its trace lingered, enthralling all who saw it.

Regardless of the shopgirls’ dazzled faces, he looked down at his mistress with approval.

“If that is your wish.”

At his nod, Rene quickly signaled to her staff.

A single one of these gowns would equal half a year’s revenue, yet the duke did not even ask the price.

‘Three gowns…!’

She could not let such an opportunity slip.

Renée smiled sweetly and hurried to escort the mistress behind the screen, keen to prevent her from changing her mind.

“I’ll take your measurements. This way, miss.”

Her hands moved as quickly as her tongue usually did, measuring with practised ease while her eyes roamed over the woman repeatedly.

Rene was certainly kept busy. This was a body that required adjustments and allowances here and there.

Each time Rene called out a number, the attendant, Betty, jotted it down diligently.

Each time the tape brushed over her, the mistress’s long lashes fluttered like butterfly wings.

They were black, so at odds with her hair color.

‘Ah… dyed.’

Rene’s sharp eyes deduced that the duke’s mistress must naturally have dark hair and lashes.

‘With a face like this, did she truly need to dye her hair to catch his eye?’

Feeling deflated, Renée let out a small sigh.

The Duke of Strilland was such an exalted figure that she could not even dream of him. Seeing the woman beside him made him seem even more unattainable.

‘And those movements…’

Wherever Renée touched her, the woman recoiled like the leaves of a mimosa. This had the power to torment any man with longing.

Her movements seemed to be both avoidance and invitation, making one ache to pursue and seize her.

These strangely provocative gestures drew an unwilling admiration from Renée.

This could well be called a talent for seduction.

“…Finished?”

The gentle question snapped Rene from her daze. She scrambled to answer.

“Ah—yes. All done.”

She felt lightheaded, as if bewitched. Perhaps she had pulled the tape too tight. Perhaps she had stood far too close to the duke’s mistress.

Startled by her own behavior, Rene quickly stepped back.

“I’ll need to step into the lounge for a moment. If you would kindly inform His Grace.”

“Yes, I will.”

She had the mannerisms of a demanding noblewoman. She held her chin high, adopting a lofty demeanor. Yet, rather than seeming irritating, she appeared elegant.

“Ah.”

She stoped, turning her gaze toward a row of gowns along the wall.

“What are those?”

“These emphasize mobility. They’re imported from Prisada as well. The green that was in fashion fifteen years ago has become popular again recently.”

“Tell His Grace I want all of those too.”

“All… of them, miss?”

She gave the slightest nod.

What a woman—bold enough to spark affection where none had existed before.

“At once, miss.”

Swallowing down her urge to clap her hands with delight, Rene bowed her head with elegant restraint.

◯◯◯

As soon as Sveta entered the lounge, she locked the door behind her. She staggered briefly before leaning heavily against the wall.

Having the measuring tape bound around her body felt like being shackled all over again. The suffocating pressure gnawed at her from head to toe.

Bound and beaten — again and again. The memories clawed back mercilessly.

She hastily tore off her gloves and dipped her hands into the basin of cold water set to one side.

“Haa…”

A chill spread through her, steadying her racing heartbeat.

A soft breeze wafted in, bringing calm.

She breathed out slowly and took in her surroundings.

As befitted a high-class boutique, the lavender curtains shimmered and swayed gently in the breeze. Beyond the window stretched a view that could only be described as art.

The Brimiya River sparkled in dazzling ripples of light.

“…Beautiful.”

She started towards the window, but then—

— a lanky man suddenly appeared from behind a nearby screen.

The closer he came, the more her instinctive terror intensified.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it? Leather Doll. How has life been treating you? You’ve got prettier.”

That jaunty voice—etched into her forever—belonged to Jace Gould.

It was as if nails had been driven through her feet; she could not move.

‘I should run… I have to run…’

He smiled, raising one cheek. A strip of cloth, mottled with dark stains of dried blood, was bound there.

The wound Aiden had given him was just as large, just as grotesque, as she had imagined.

“So the duke’s mistress with the orange hair was you? I thought it was Beth.”

“….”

From his words, Sveta grasped two truths: that Beth was alive, and that she was no longer with Jace.

Relief flared briefly—only to drown in the suffocating menace standing before her. Her body trembled.

“Beth isn’t at the ducal house.”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. And what’s this ‘Beth’? You should call her Master. You’re a slave, aren’t you?”

“….”

The contrast between his cheerful tone and the madness gleaming in his blue-green eyes sent shivers down her spine.

She stumbled back.

“What, trying to leave?”

His long fingers coiled around her arm like a snake, gripping tight.

“Let go of me…!”

“Seems you’ve forgotten your place. Wearing fancy clothes, you think you’re human now? Hm?”

“I’ll scream.”

Jace tapped the tip of her fragile ankle with the hard toe of his boot once and then again.

As he watched her falter and limp backwards, he laughed like a devil.

“You won’t.”

A brutal hand clamped over her mouth as he leaned in to whisper.

“Go on. Try.”

Fire sparked in his wild eyes.

“It’s been too long since I heard you scream. Don’t disappoint me now.”

His hand tightened as if to crush her jaw.

“You said you’d scream. You’re good at that, aren’t you? Do it. I love the sound of you crying—ticklish, obscene. It thrills me.”

“….”

Sveta twisted her head as hard as she could, but she was powerless to stop him.

He kept rambling relentlessly.

“You always resist. You talk back at every turn. You’re stubborn to the bone. It’s as if you provoke my defiance.”

“….”

“No, that’s not it. It’s sadism! Yes, sadism—that’s the word.”

“….”

“You’re the one who makes me this way.”

Jace Gould’s exaggerated expressions and overly playful tone served only to emphasise his cruel nature.

Sveta shuddered, but summoned her remaining courage. With trembling hands, she gripped his wrist tightly.

When his hand brushed her jaw, she sank her teeth into it with all her might.

“You little—d*mn…!”

Jace hissed through clenched teeth. In an instant, his face darkened with rage.

He spat foul curses and raised his hand, ready to strike.

“You filthy wretch—!”

Sveta rushed towards the door and gripped the handle with trembling hands. At that moment, there was a dull, heavy knock on the door.

Thump, thump.

“Sveta. May I come in?”

The duke’s voice.

Jace froze immediately. She could see him slowly calculating behind his shallow eyes.

“I never want to see you again.”

Sveta whispered. Her words were both a warning and a plea for him to run.

If he were caught, her true identity would be revealed. However, Jace was not the sort of person to think things through.

Then the duke would look for Beth.

‘And Beth… might die.’

The thought choked her breath, strangling her chest.

“Go. Now…!”

Jace tilted his head, then smiled brightly.

“You don’t ever want to see me again?”

“….”

“Well, that’s not up to you, is it?”

“Please. For Beth’s sake…”

“Ah, Beth. Our Beth. My daughter.”

Her chest tightened with panic, the word daughter ringing sharp in her ears.

Another polite knock followed, along with the duke’s voice.

“Sveta, are you well?”

Jace’s lips slowly curved upwards, but his expression immediately twisted in pain at the wound on his cheek. Although it looked foolish, it wasn’t enough to make her laugh.