Chapter 39

With Dylan in front of him, Roche strode across the garden to the gate.

Oscar Crestwell stared at them, his chin raised in arrogance.

“Open the gate.”

His tone was commanding.

Roche glared at Oscar over the grate.

He vaguely knew that Oscar only acted this way towards Marlena.

In front of everyone else, he wore the mask of a perfect gentleman.

He had a feeling he’d known this man before. The shadow of a familiar face loomed over him, as if from a lost memory.

It made him sick.

Oscar Crestwell . A shudderingly contemptible human being.

His gaze lingered on Roche for a moment. Sparks flew in the air.

Unable to speak over the grate, Dylan opened the door.

As if distracted by the sight, it was Oscar who stared first.

He ordered Dylan as if he were his butler.

“Bring in Countess Balthus.”

“I was not informed that you would be visiting today, My Lord.”

Dylan tried to politely dismiss Oscar.

‘He is not a man to be dismissed on good terms.’

As Roche had predicted, Oscar made no move to back down.

Irritation crept into his voice.

“Tell her to come out at once. Something very unpleasant has happened, and I want to hear the Countess’s apology.”

The ‘unpleasant’ Oscar referred to was clearly the event where Marlena confronted the ladies at the café’s outdoor terrace yesterday.

“My Lord, may I inquire about the nature of this incident? I will inform the Countess and make sure to contact you later today.”

The unspoken part was undoubtedly, ‘Please leave now.’

Roche nodded his head slightly in agreement.

Since Marlena wasn’t under Oscar’s authority, there was no reason for her to respond to his sudden visit.

Dylan’s response was ideal. Polite yet firm, he was a model butler.

However, the problem was that Oscar, their intruder, was not someone who appreciated such decorum.

In fact, he was well aware of the etiquette among the nobility. But when it came to Marlena’s involvement, his eyes rolled back in his head, and he lost his temper.

“Your master has been spreading rumors about me.”

Oscar chewed his words and spat them out. Dylan, unable to think of a quick response, kept his mouth shut.

Then Oscar took a step toward him.

“You peasant, do you not know who I am? I have royal blood in my veins. Do you dare defy me? Bring me Marlena Balthus, at once.”

As Oscar boasted about his noble lineage, Dylan grew increasingly flustered.

But to wake Marlena here and bring her before Oscar would be a disgrace to his master’s honor.

Meanwhile, Oscar was getting angrier by Dylan’s principled response.

‘How dare this inexperienced servant from the countryside challenge him like this!’

He hadn’t been treated this way since the last time he’d corresponded with the bank about Marlena’s loan.

In fact, whether at the bank or now, it wasn’t so much “disrespect” as it was a sensible response…

As a royalty and high nobleman, Oscar has always been above common sense.

Such exceptional treatment was so commonplace that he was offended when he was treated the same as everyone else.

“Do you not understand words?” Oscar’s voice lowered menacingly.

Dylan’s face began to pale before him.

But he held his ground.

Finally, Oscar gritted his teeth and raised his hands above his head.

Dylan closed his eyes in anticipation.

He was expecting a vicious punch, but…… felt no pain.

Dylan cautiously opened his eyes.

Roche stood soundlessly in front of him, gripping Oscar’s arm firmly.

“Good morning, Your Grace.”

Roche’s voice was low, almost sweet.

“For the second time.”

Oscar understood what Roche was saying.

The day he’d chased Marlena in front of the security station.

The moment he had tried to forcefully pull her out, Roche had intervened just like this.

So today was the second time Roche had stopped Oscar from using violence.

The red glow of humiliation began to dawn on Oscar’s face.

His pride was wounded by the realization that he was no match for Roche’s power.

But Roche didn’t just stop Oscar, he opened his mouth.

“Do you resort to violence every time things don’t go your way?”

Oscar was speechless.

Of course, he was a man of violent temperament.

He knows it’s unbecoming of a nobleman, a lowly character.

So he only dared to raise his hand against those he deemed beneath him, like Serwen, a former slave.

Oscar glared at Roche, his face flushed with shame.

Marlena’s bodyguard, a man of unknown origin.

Blood of unknown provenance is dirty blood.

The bearer of such dirty blood took a jab at Oscar.

In a manner far more aristocratic than Oscar’s at this moment.

‘I must subdue him immediately.’

If his feelings toward Marlena were ones of discomfort and anger, his feelings toward Roche were ones of crisis.

Oscar tried to avoid Roche’s calm gaze, but Roche kept his eyes locked on him.

Oscar forced strength into his eyes, even as his lips trembled unnaturally.

“How dare you touch the body of royalty. Get down on your knees now.”

“You are not my master.”

The cold reply came back.

Oscar shook Roche’s hand away. Roche obediently let go of Oscar’s wrist.

‘D*mn, it’s throbbing.’

How strong is he?

Oscar’s once forced smile disappeared, replaced by a twisted expression.

“If you will not summon Countess Balthus, I will have no choice but to educate you accordingly. With that ‘violence’ you speak of.”

Oscar curled his fists, ignoring the pain in his wrists.

There would be no harm in punching this ignoramus a few times in anger.

Marlena might get mad, but that’s not a bad thing either. She’d come running to Oscar herself soon enough.

Roche glanced toward Oscar’s fist.

A cold voice drifted from his lips.

“Duke Creedwell, are you certain you can handle it?”

“What?”

“Can you handle the aftermath of your violence against me?”

What would be the aftermath?

The aristocracy has merely “educated” an unknown bloodline.

Public opinion in the capital is still Oscar’s.

The other nobles would say, ‘The gentleman Crestwell must put this insolent fellow in his place,’ and the other nobles would feel sorry for Oscar.

He was confident.

And yet, strangely enough…….

He couldn’t strike Roche’s face, which was cold and grave as it looked at Oscar.

A primal fear, rising from some unknown source, gripped his ankles.

He had never felt anything like it.

Dylan’s eyes widened as he stood behind Roche’s back.

For a moment, Oscar, the unstoppable predator he’d heard so much about, seemed so small.

His voice dropped from its ferocity, and he spoke softly.

“I’ll back off for now.”

It was a voice that was impossible to smooth over.

As if he knew it, Oscar tried to bluff his way out of it.

“Countess Balthus will pay the price. If it comes to that, I have my own ideas.”

Roche didn’t even reply; he just continued to stare at Oscar.

Oscar backed away.

“It might be better to wait for another opportunity. It’ll be too late otherwise.”

His lips were dry with pity.

Unable to stand it any longer, Oscar turned and walked quickly. He gritted his teeth as he walked as fast as he could away from Balthus’s estate.

He would make him pay.

Marlena’s face flashed into his mind.

It wasn’t the one he’d seen before, clinging to him with a sickening grip, or the one he saw now, pushing him away with an easy smile.

She was flat on her back, terrified. Just like Serwen.

The thought of such a future was gratifying.

Oscar vowed again and again that he would choke Marlena, and then tear that Roche bodyguard to shreds.

Meanwhile, Roche, after watching Oscar’s back without letting his guard down, returned to the main building with Dylan.

Dylan was a man of few words, but he couldn’t help but rant now.

“I don’t know why the Countess chased after that guy in the past…….”

Roche was in complete agreement. He nodded briefly.

Curiosity was followed by these thoughts.

‘If I were the Countess’s husband… At least I would have been a better spouse than that.’

The sentence came to him as naturally as running water.

Then, in the next moment, Roche realized what he had thought and was startled.

His face flushed as if on fire, and he took a big step forward.

Dylan, who was walking next to Roche, tilted his head.