Chapter 13 – Conquest

Aaron checked his reflection in the full-length mirror multiple times, meticulously arranging his clothes.

In an hour, he had an appointment to meet a businessman about laying railroads in the North. At least for today, it would be best to set aside thoughts of the wild witch.

‘…Didn’t I just tell myself that?’

Aaron gazed at his reflection in the mirror with a tired look.

His jet-black hair was styled neatly with not a single stray strand; his face, annoyingly handsome, had caused him much trouble, yet inspired trust; his straight posture was flawless.

Everything was perfect—except for one thing. The sudden bulge below his waist.

“D*mn it, this again!”

Aaron cursed.

At some point, his body had started to assert itself in a troublesome way. The intensity of the urge was enough to drive him mad.

No one had caught him yet, but if it started interfering with his daily life like this, it was a problem.

“Ha, seriously…”

Aaron let out a long sigh and glared at the air with resentful eyes. If it were smaller, it wouldn’t be an issue, but unfortunately, Aaron’s manhood was rather formidable, so he couldn’t go out like this.

He put his hands on his slim waist and agonized, when a knock came from outside the dressing room.

“Your Grace!”

His aide, Dagon, raised his voice to announce himself before opening the door as instructed. Aaron quickly turned toward the door, frowning fiercely.

“Are you not ready yet? Should I come in and help?”

“No!”

His reply was full of annoyance. Dagon tilted his head for a moment, but he knew well that Aaron disliked being touched by others.

“Yes, then please come out within twenty minutes. The carriage is waiting below.”

“Got it.”

Aaron answered calmly so Dagon wouldn’t suspect anything. Dagon left without further comment.

“Haaa.”

A long sigh escaped his elegant lips. Below, he was still out of control.

Aaron stared down at himself.

At this point, there was no helping it. It would only take five minutes to resolve. He felt like a mindless beast, which didn’t feel good, but he forced down his self-loathing.

Aaron carefully unbuttoned his sleeves and rolled his shirt up to his elbows. Then he sat on the bed and grasped his *rect member.

“Mm…”

He adjusted the pressure of his grip and slowly stroked the shaft. Maybe because he wasn’t used to doing this, it didn’t feel as stimulating or shameful as the dream.

His manhood only stiffened awkwardly, unable to move to the next stage. His desire didn’t rise much; at this rate, even thirty minutes wouldn’t be enough, let alone ten.

Aaron bit his lower lip gently. If he didn’t finish quickly, Dagon would surely come into the room. And then…

‘He’ll see this.’

He’d had enough shame in his dreams.

‘This… this, I can’t help.’

Aaron consoled himself that a little fantasy was necessary for self-pleasure, and thought of the witch’s soft skin.

He imagined her sitting astride him, recalling every detail. The imagined sensation was blissful. It was a shame he couldn’t picture her face because of that strange blindfold.

“Haa, haa.”

Soon, his ears and cheeks flushed, and hot breaths poured out. He imagined burying his face in her large, soft chest until he could barely breathe.

Thud, thud-thud.

His hand moved faster. His swollen, veiny shaft twitched, and his tight t*sticles seemed ready to help him cl*max at any moment.

But Aaron couldn’t finish.

It was as if something blocked him, like a carriage wheel stuck in a rut. Like wearing a ring, his prostate felt tightly blocked.

Unable to release, Aaron felt suffocated and frustrated.

“Ha, d*mn it…! D*mn it!”

Unresolved primal desire made curses spill from between his teeth.

Then, suddenly, someone flashed through his mind. Surprisingly, it was Neria Warwick—not the witch with a cursed face.

The imagined Neria smiled at Aaron, seductively and n*de.

‘Duke.’

“Mm…”

Her fragrant chestnut hair would softly wrap around his fingers if he touched it.

He knew it wasn’t right to imagine a real woman this way. It was cowardly. But he couldn’t stop. The thrill was enough to smother his guilt.

Aaron patiently undid the complicated buttons on her dress in his imagination. The soft flesh trapped in her underwear was freed.

Her white lace stockings had a hole at the bottom for easy access. Aaron imagined throwing himself at the now-n*ked Neria.

“Ugh! Haa…!”

His hand gripped his flushed, veiny member, moving in a rhythmic beat. Aaron squeezed his eyes shut and gave a final spurt.

“Ah, ah…”

After climaxing, a wave of self-loathing washed over him. At the same time, a thought crossed his mind.

The witch who’d tormented him in dreams—a strange woman whose face he’d never seen… looked so much like Neria.

***

The next day, Neria met her friend at the High Town Coffeehouse, her face lively and bright.

Her close friend, Betty, complimented her, asking what cosmetics she’d been using, saying she’d become so pretty lately. Neria just smiled innocently.

“Maybe it’s because I’ve been thinking good thoughts.”

“Oh, come on~ If you don’t want to tell me, just say so!”

Neria replied that it was true, giggling. Inside, she was secretly chanting, ‘Naughty thoughts, naughty thoughts!’

“By the way. Neria, you know…”

Betty looked around and lowered her voice. It was obvious what she wanted to talk about.

“You met the Duke, right?”

As expected. It was about Aaron Denicar, whom Neria had clashed with a few days ago and then strangely met again at the temple.

When Neria gave a wry smile, Betty ordered extra coffee and dessert for her.

“Tell me. Was he really as the rumors say?”

Neria, after devouring her sweet cake in three bites, dabbed her glossy lips with a napkin and began her story.

“When I first saw him, I thought some ancient god had stepped out of a myth…”

Her chest, trapped in her jacket, was silently screaming.

Neria restrained herself from sharing too explicit an impression. She didn’t mention the temple meeting, nor the secret dream.

She told it like a fan meeting a celebrity, with a little embellishment. She deliberately left out any bad stories. Given her personality, she’d already forgotten most of her resentment.

“…So I was rejected. It didn’t feel good at the time, but it’s all in the past. Besides, our family isn’t really on the Duke’s level anyway.”

Mixing in a self-deprecating joke, she admitted she’d been dumped, so Betty bought her another plate of cake. Neria gratefully accepted the kindness.

“Did he contact you afterward? I heard that even though the Duke rejected her, he sent flowers to the Marquis of Beverland’s daughter as an apology.”

Neria wanted to say, ‘That was probably the work of his efficient aide, not the Duke himself,’ but held back.

“Neria, don’t be too down. The Duke is famously prickly. I didn’t know, since he always smiles at the New Year’s party.”

“He was pretty cold and negative.”

“He doesn’t trust people easily, that Duke.”

“Did he get scammed or something?”

Betty, who was good at collecting gossip, scanned the surroundings again. In that neighborhood, you always had to check before talking about others.

After surveying the area, Betty leaned forward. Neria instinctively followed suit.

Betty whispered,

“The Duke… before he became the Northern Duke, he was a prince, right?”

“That’s right.”

“He was sent up to the North, practically exiled from the palace. And apparently, he was betrayed by a trusted friend there.”

“What kind of betrayal?”

“His retainer and friend tried to use the Duke as a pretext for rebellion. The Duke personally beheaded him in front of the northern castle. The public story is that he executed him for being caught with a noble lady, but…”

“Ah…”

Neria knew he’d punished a retainer harshly, but hadn’t heard that he’d personally beheaded him.

“Isn’t it terrible? That sort of thing was only done by lords a hundred years ago. Nowadays, it’s always the executioner, right? Even if he was a criminal, beheading a friend must have been emotionally devastating.”

“My goodness, such a thing…”

Betty gazed leisurely at Neria’s shocked face, as if enjoying her reaction, and continued speaking.

“Well, maybe there are more reasons why the Duke doesn’t show interest in any lady. But it’s certain he doesn’t have much peace of mind these days. Anyway, don’t tell anyone about this story. Got it?”

Betty quietly cautioned her, and Neria nodded.

“I had no idea… about any of that.”

“It’s such a hush-hush story, hardly anyone knows, and even if they do, they rarely talk about it. So it’s understandable not to know.”

‘But you just told me?’

Neria held her tongue. Thanks to people like Betty, who are always in the know, those like herself—often left out of the loop—can get a lot of useful information.

Of course, in exchange for that information, Neria’s story about her match with the Duke would probably spread all over the social circles.

‘But the really interesting stories are the ones only I know, so it’s fine.’

Neria smiled slyly and raised her cup to her lips.