Chapter 20

When only Karel and Selma remained in the hall.

Karel, who had never been able to be friendly with Randolph, had only taken a sip or two of the rare whiskey with his usual uncooperative demeanor. As a result, the man, relatively sober, looked down at the innkeeper with his characteristic aloofness.

A middle-aged woman with dark brown hair streaked with gray. The familiar, cheerful smile she always wore when greeting him and his subordinates, as well as her bright red lipstick, were absent, leaving her face looking pale.

And yet, here she was, with some business to discuss.

Yet, even after a long moment, silence hung between them. Her lips moved faintly, as though she were carefully choosing her words.

“…Please, I beg you.”

Selma finally spoke, just as Karel’s curiosity began to shift into mild irritation.

“Take her with you.”

“Her?”

“The girl you just summoned.”

“…”

Where did she think I was going? 

The irritation, stoked by the wait, began to grow.

Selma, unable to meet Karel’s gaze, fidgeted with the oil lamp as she continued.

“You know as well as I do, Sir. That girl’s beauty surpasses that of most noblewomen in the capital. That’s why you took her in, isn’t it?”

Surpasses most women? That face wasn’t something that could be described so simply.

It was the first face of a woman Karel had ever truly noticed, and it was also the face of the only noble being he served. The very reason he had devoted his life, and the reason he had been pushed into this absurd trap, risking his life.

However, the reason he had taken the woman wasn’t because of that face…

“A beautiful girl, with no money, no backing, and who has known a man once, is treated far worse than you might imagine, Sir.”

Perhaps you saw it earlier…

Selma’s voice trembled faintly.

Indeed, Randolph’s behavior toward the woman was etched into Karel’s memory like a vivid engraving. He hadn’t been able to drink much of the whiskey Randolph had offered—not solely because he didn’t enjoy alcohol.

But what did it matter now?

The sharp ache in his well-trained abdomen, Karel dismissed as nothing more than discomfort from the awkward situation.

“I don’t know what kind of person you are, Sir. Even if you take her, lock her away in a backroom, and never look for her again, it’s fine. It’s even fine if you grow tired of her and treat her coldly. Of course, it would be even better if you continued to cherish her as you have been…”

She wasn’t unaware of the faint bruises and marks left on the girl’s pale skin, nor of the fact that they hadn’t faded, even though they were not left carelessly. She knew the girl was nothing more than a maid who had to deal with countless men at the inn, and yet, she had tolerated the marks left on her.

Selma knew too well how harshly men treated women, and in her eyes, the traces Karel left were merely rough expressions of affection. There were no bruises from punches, no broken bones, no bleeding. Most importantly, she hadn’t died. Thinking of the faces of young girls who had married far away and whose fates she no longer knew, Selma desperately squeezed out her plea.

“…I understand the lives of those who remain here. And for her, being taken to the capital by you, even if forgotten and left alone for the rest of her life, would still be a better fate than remaining here.”

“…”

“She will suffer far more than you can imagine, Sir. Please, just take her with you. Show her mercy.”

Selma’s voice, trembling faintly, turned into an outright plea. She never once dared to meet Karel’s eyes.

“I can’t care for her forever.”

Perhaps I should have raised her to be strong from the beginning. Taught her to be resilient, so that even with such beauty, she wouldn’t be mistreated by rough men. Maybe I should have raised her to inherit this inn. 

Selma lowered her head, consumed by regret over the sleepless nights she had spent after learning that the girl had spent the night with Karel.

Karel remained silent.

When Karel ascended to the third floor, where his room was located, a woman wrapped in a thin shawl was shivering in front of his door. She must have slipped out as soon as she heard the sound of their return, but Selma’s conversation had delayed him longer than expected, leaving her waiting. Beneath the shawl, she wore nothing but a simple chemise dress. Perhaps she hadn’t bothered to dress warmly, knowing it would all come off in his hands and that his body heat would warm her.

The moonlight streaming into the hallway illuminated her silhouette through the thin fabric of the chemise with startling clarity.

What stirred in Karel’s gut at the sight was not desire but anger.

“You’ve come…”

The woman’s eyes, shining with innocent anticipation, looked up at him from her neatly swept-back bangs.

In truth, she was excited. It was the first time he had summoned her. Until now, she had always waited for him and sought him out first. The fact that he had called for her filled her with pure joy, which was evident on her face.

What’s there to be so happy about?

That, too, only fueled his anger. Without a word of explanation, Karel grabbed her wrist and dragged her into the room—the very wrist Randolph had so casually held.

“…Ah!”

Karel pushed the woman down onto the bed, her plump hips raised, and thrust himself into her flushed flesh.

“Ah… ugh… ah… ah…”

The muffled moans escaping her throat matched the rhythm of his rough movements. Even knowing they were sounds of discomfort, Karel silently gripped her hips and drove himself into her again and again. Her hips collided with his pelvis repeatedly.

The act, which had begun with him pulling her into the room and forcing her onto the bed, continued like a venting of his frustration.

From the moment he thought she would wait for him at his word, his body had been tense and ready. No, perhaps it was even before that—when he went to summon her. Or maybe it was when he realized she had been violated in the imagination of that middle-aged man. Perhaps it had started the moment she entered the village chief’s banquet hall.

Regardless, throughout Randolph’s tedious conversation, all he could think about was coupling with her.

To claim that face, which the old man had admired so lecherously, with his own. To embrace her body, which had been appraised with those lascivious eyes, as if to imprint her n*ked form into his memory.

His forearms bulged as he forcefully pulled her hips toward him.

“Ah… ah… ah…”

Unable to withstand the weight pressing against her, the woman buried her face into the pillow, sobbing quietly.  

Had I done something wrong?  

The excitement she had felt when he first called for her now seemed like a fleeting dream. Yet, in a way, she thought it was proof that he needed her, and for that, she felt relief. No matter how many women had warmed his bed before her, at this moment, she was the only one he wanted.  

Was it because he was drunk…?  

Clenching her teeth, she endured Karel’s relentless thrusts. Thump. Thump. Thump. Her entire body rocked violently in time with the rough sound of flesh colliding.  

He had never been gentle with her, not even once, but this was pure, unrestrained force. There was no caressing of her br*asts, no attention to the sensitive areas of her body. His sole purpose seemed to be driving himself into her, pounding her hips with his pelvis and striking deep inside her with the head of his manhood.  

“Ah! Ugh… ah… sob!”  

Even so, the repeated friction of his movements—over and over, night after night—began to create a slickness within her. The deeper thrusts sent a wave of heat pooling below her navel faster than usual. Karel would have inevitably noticed it too. Her inner walls, now slick and welcoming, clung tightly to him as though pleading for him to stay inside.  

Feeling the woman’s body respond so eagerly, he sneered inwardly.  

She’ll suffer? Nonsense.  

She could embrace her husband just as she embraced me now.  

‘Oh, the child is so obedient and well-mannered; they will surely be devoted to you and caring toward your children.’

‘Well then. I’ll be counting on you from now on.’

Lowering his gaze, he looked at the woman’s back as she lay prone before him. Her pale hips, the sharp curve of her waist that narrowed dramatically…  

His hands tightened their grip on her hips. Pressing down firmly, he pushed along the sleek curve of her back toward her waist. The already slender flesh of her waist seemed to shrink further under his pressure.  

That man had dared to touch this body. His yellow eyes had leered at her chest, her neck, her face…  

Every part of her that had been sullied by that gaze.  

‘How dare he…’  

And so, Karel had been furious all evening.  

‘Oh, so she’s a beauty unknown to the common rabble?’

Beauty, my as$…  

But Karel didn’t fully understand why he was so angry. The throbbing in his chest that had bothered him ever since he learned of her fate—to be married off to the third son of a lord not much younger than her father—remained unexplained.