Chapter 1.18

There had been countless men who desired Liz.  

She had always refused, resisted, or fled.  

The reason was simple: Liz didn’t want them.  

But what about Valentine Winchester?  

Liz stared blankly up at him.  

The scent from their first meeting in the attic, the kiss they shared in front of everyone, and the hands that untied her ropes—all of it belonged to Valentine Winchester.  

“Of course…”  

Liz struggled to gather herself and responded.  

“Of course not. I’m just a maid.”  

The story of maids and nobles always ended in tragedy.  

In the end, Liz knew she would be the one left broken.  

“Oh, because I’m a noble and you’re a maid?”  

Valentine raised one eyebrow in displeasure.  

Liz nodded hesitantly under his gaze.  

Valentine chuckled lightly and snatched the contract from Liz’s hands with his finger.  

“In that case, there’s no need for a contract like this in the first place.”  

Valentine tore the contract in half, then in half again.  

The shredded pieces fell to the floor.  

“I could just give orders like a proper noble. Isn’t that right?”  

Liz stared blankly at the fluttering scraps of paper before snapping her head up.  

She shook her head vigorously and shouted.  

“No, I can’t accept that…!”  

“Don’t desire me. That’s an order.”  

Valentine whispered softly into her ear.  

Liz’s eyes widened.  

“…What?”  

Valentine continued calmly.  

“Between Myra and Winchester, the one holding the most advantageous position is you. You have nothing to lose and everything to gain, don’t you?”  

“What on earth does that mean…?”  

Valentine turned gracefully and pointed to the door connected to his bedroom.  

“That door doesn’t open from your side. I trust you understand why.”  

“…I have no idea.”  

Liz’s voice trembled faintly. Valentine smirked in response.  

“Then you’re simply foolish.”  

Valentine pressed his finger against Liz’s forehead as he spoke.  

His finger trailed down from her forehead to her eyes, cheeks, and finally her neck.  

“Myra must be desperate. That’s why he tried to kill you.”  

Valentine mimicked slashing her neck with his hand.  

The terrifying memory from the previous day resurfaced, sending chills down her spine and freezing her body.  

“He likely thinks he’s dealt with you now, so Myra will grow even bolder. He might subtly suggest that Isabel Myra’s disappearance was my doing. And then…”  

Valentine lifted Liz’s chin with his hand.  

“The perfect Lady Winchester will make her grand entrance.”  

The perfect Lady Winchester.  

Once again, the word “if” began to consume Liz’s thoughts. 

If Liz were truly Isabel.  

The Duchess of Winchester, adorned in precious jewels and dresses, would step into the ballroom.  

In the center of the ballroom, Valentine would be waiting.  

Valentine would extend his hand gracefully.  

• You’re beautiful.  

He would say, his gaze fixed not on red hair, but green eyes.  

Not Isabel, but Liz.  

Liz bit her trembling lip. Her heart raced.  

Valentine seemed to sense her unease and whispered leisurely.  

“Imagine it. The sight of Count Myra’s shock. You must have your own grievances against Myra, don’t you?”  

Liz avoided his gaze and shook her head.  

“That’s… not entirely true. After all, he has helped me a lot.”  

“My, Lady Winchester, you have such a kind heart.”  

Valentine chuckled mockingly before continuing.  

“You are, by far, the most threatening chess piece against Myra. You could testify to his attempted murder, or, if things go well, you could become the true power behind Winchester, turning Isabel Myra into a hollow shell.”  

“True power? What do you mean?”  

“If you come to me and bear my child.”  

“How could you say such a thing!”  

Liz’s face flushed bright red.  

“In front of Myra—or rather, in front of all the prominent figures of Holt’s social circle—I will show them the possibility of such an event.”  

Valentine spoke with ease.  

“That you could carry my child and become my mistress.”  

Mistress.  

That word pierced Liz’s heart.  

Even in lies, Liz’s limits were clear.  

A shadow-dwelling sinner. A worthless being who could never rise above her station.  

“Now you understand why I keep the door locked.”  

Liz cleared her throat and asked carefully.  

“Was saving me yesterday also because of that? Because I’m useful?”  

“Of course.”  

Valentine nodded without a hint of hesitation.  

Liz looked up at the ceiling. Tears pooled in her eyes but struggled to fall.  

“Queening. It’s a chess rule.”  

Valentine explained calmly.  

“You’re a lowly pawn, but under my command, you could become a queen capable of checkmating Myra. But even that is my decision. I won’t allow you to recklessly run across the board and claim the crown for yourself.”  

Liz realized once again.  

Valentine didn’t see her as a person.  

She was merely furniture to be used as needed.  

Liz composed herself and spoke quietly.  

“In that case, you’ll have to pretend to love me from now on.”  

Valentine nodded readily.  

“That won’t be difficult.”  

Liz replied firmly, her gaze steady.  

“I doubt you could fool anyone with that attitude.”  

Valentine chuckled and lifted her chin with his right hand.  

“Didn’t I tell you? Your shell is quite impressive.”  

“Such words… Hmph!”  

His lips captured hers.  

Liz froze in shock.  

While Liz hesitated, his lips sucked on her lower lip and bit it lightly.  

It was nothing like the brief kiss they had shared at the wedding.  

His tongue brushed against the seam of her lips.  

Liz tried to turn her head away, but Valentine’s hand gripped her cheek firmly, refusing to let go.  

“Hnn, ngh…”  

Her squashed cheek ached.  

Even as her pained whimpers escaped, he didn’t stop.  

Instead, as if he had been waiting, his tongue slipped through the gap of her parted lips.  

The soft muscle filled her mouth entirely.  

For someone whose words were so sharp, his tongue was surprisingly gentle.  

Liz tried to push his shoulder away, but the moment she did, his tongue dragged along the roof of her mouth.  

“Mmngh…!”

Liz trembled, letting out a strange whimper.  

The hands she had tried to use to push him away slid helplessly down his chest.  

Perhaps pleased with her reaction, Valentine rubbed her palate like candy and prodded it with his tongue.  

“Haa… Ha…”  

Liz’s eyes closed on their own.  

His tongue, wrapped around hers, sucked so hard it hurt, but she no longer felt the urge to push him away.  

She didn’t even feel the hand that had been gripping her jaw tightly.  

Instead, all she could sense were the sticky sounds of his lips sucking hers, the overflowing heat of his breath.  

Only those sensations felt hazy and dreamlike.  

The moment Liz unknowingly swallowed his saliva—  

“It seems I’ve deceived you.”  

His lips moved against hers as if concluding something.  

Liz’s startled eyes snapped open.  

The gaze Valentine fixed on her burned with unfulfilled desire.  

It was as if he were truly bewitched by her.  

“Just as I suspected… If the counterpart is someone like you, I can immerse myself fully.”  

But the words that followed left Liz’s mind reeling.  

It felt as though someone had poured cold water over her face.  

“Ah, your acting skills…”  

Valentine glanced down.  

At some point, Liz’s hands had tightly gripped his collar.  

“You needn’t worry about them.”  

Valentine chuckled lightly as he straightened his collar.  

Liz’s hands fell limply onto the bed.  

“Then I’ll consider the contract finalized.”  

Valentine smiled faintly and nodded.  

“Isabel Winchester, my dear wife.”  

With that, Valentine turned and returned to his room.  

The torn contract fluttered under his feet, crumpling as it landed.  

With a click, the door locked shut.  

“How could…”  

Tears finally streamed down Liz’s face.  

She wiped them away with her fists, but the tears wouldn’t stop flowing.  

Last night, Liz had felt salvation in him.  

She had seen heat in his breath and allure in his gaze.  

But it had all been a delusion.  

The beautiful dresses like fairy wings, the sweet wine that moistened her lips, the blade that decisively cut through her bindings.  

The fleeting kindness that brought her presumptuous excitement—it was all a summer night’s illusion.  

Liz’s gaze landed on the display case.  

Inside the glass case sat the blue shoes that symbolized the bride.  

The shoes Liz had worn until yesterday were the only blue object in that blood-stained room.  

Liz approached the display case, suppressing her pain.  

The bright blue shoes were spotless, without a speck of dirt.  

Yet the person who had worn them was covered in wounds.  

It felt as though the shoes were mocking her.  

What Isabel had left behind.  

What had torn Liz apart with pain.  

And yet, what remained beautiful.  

Unbidden, Valentine’s blue eyes overlapped with the image of the shoes in her mind.  

Liz stared at the shoes for a long time before suddenly opening the display case and taking them out.  

She limped back to the bed, shoved the shoes deep into the drawer beneath it, and closed it.  

As if by magic, her tears stopped.  

Liz vowed never to let those shoes weigh on her heart again.