Aisha shivered at the lewd smile on Vincent’s face. She could see all too clearly what his flaring nostrils and staring eyes were suggesting.

“Mmph! Mmmph!”

Her struggles grew more frantic, but the man holding her only tightened his grip, leaning in to breathe a damp, foul breath against her ear.

“Well… judging from what’s been said, it’s obvious enough. With a face and body like that, she’s more than worth it. If that bastard Ian is hesitating, then the rumors must be true—she’s had more than one man. A little touching won’t be anything worth talking about.”

Such vile thoughts came easily to him. The men laughed crudely as they appraised Aisha, treating her like an object. It wasn’t the first time. Whenever they were drunk, they would find someone to prey on — especially women — and harass them in ways that left no trace.

Their depravity was exacerbated by the fact that such acts, committed where there were no witnesses, left no evidence. If word did get out, it was the victim who would be saddled with the worst rumours. More than five women had suffered at the hands of Vincent’s group, but only one case was ever made public. Even then, it was quietly dismissed due to a ‘lack of evidence’, and because the victim was of mixed noble and commoner birth.

“Enough scaring her—time to give her some punishment. Jamie, gag the little wench with this.”

If they touched her the way they would a girl from the streets, she would surely cry and recoil in terror. Imagine Aisha’s face, filled with shame and fear. Vincent loosened his cravat and tossed it to one of his friends. Like a hyena licking its lips at the sight of meat, the man caught it and took a step towards her.

“Hold still—ugh!”

The moment the cloth began to be shoved between her lips, Aisha lashed out with the only freedom she had left—her leg. Her kick landed squarely on his shin, making him bend over and stumble back. Clicking his tongue, Vincent snatched the cravat from him.

“Tch. Can’t even manage that? Move.”

He rubbed the fabric between his palms as he stepped toward her. Aisha shook her head violently, teeth clenched against the sheer contempt in his approach. But she couldn’t stop his hand from coming.

Thud.

It was just as Aisha’s resistance refused to cease. There was a sharp swish of air—then a dull impact. Startled, she stilled and lifted her head.

“W-what the—!”

The man she had kicked earlier was staring in shock. Beside him, Vincent lay sprawled on the ground, eyes rolled back and tongue lolling, so still he might have been dead.

“Eek!”

The man holding her let out a ridiculous squeal and released her. Then, in front of him, a voice, thick with fury, fell alongside the blow of a fist.

“Beasts in human skin—how dare you…!”

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Striding along the garden path, Ian halted the moment he caught sight of the colonnade leading to the hall.

‘Damn it…’

His expression twisted into a deep scowl as he raked a hand through his fine blond hair. The neatly parted, well-groomed style was already in disarray, but he didn’t care. Ian ran his hands through it again and again.

‘…I can’t just let that bastard Albert go.’

If things had gone according to plan, Aisha would never have found out about the wager. There would be no positive outcome if she did. If the Parden family found out about it, it would cause nothing but trouble.

But the damage was already done: she had heard the result from his own mouth. As he considered his next moves, he saw a small white flower at his feet, which he kicked in irritation. The petals scattered as it crumpled halfway under his shoe.

He was about to grind it completely into the dirt when he suddenly stopped. It was just a weed, yet for some reason he no longer felt inclined to crush it. Releasing his pent-up irritation with a sharp kick at the ground, he sighed and looked around for somewhere to sit.

Not far away was a long marble bench. Rubbing his brow, Ian started towards it, but stopped at the sound of voices coming from behind the bushes.

“What if… someone comes?”

“Everyone should be in the hall. What’s there to worry about? The only ones wandering the garden now are either drunks or lovers like us.”

“Ugh, that’s so corny.”

The voices, both male and female, were occasionally punctuated by moans. Recognising them both, Ian’s expression turned incredulous. As far as he knew, there was no reason for the two of them to be meeting in secret here. They were both married, and yet…

He grimaced in disgust at the continued moaning and turned away.

While gossips might have lingered to watch such a scene unfold, Ian had no interest in it. He simply wanted to leave this sordid place as quickly as possible, so he started walking back towards the colonnade. However, as he reached the steps, he stopped short when an idea struck him.

Just as the couple entangled behind the bushes had said, the only people likely to be wandering the garden now were either secret lovers or drunken men. And the latter were far from safe.

He recalled an unpleasant rumour about a young lady who had recently arrived from the countryside. During the Count Iren’s banquet, she had foolishly wandered the garden alone and been accosted by drunkards. Would anyone be brazen enough to commit such a crime at a palace banquet? But it wasn’t impossible. The social scene always had its fair share of vile men who lost all reason once drunk and became little more than beasts. Ian could name more than ten such men — hardly a small number.

“Damn it!”

The worst-case scenario leapt to mind. This time the curse left his lips aloud. In his mind’s eye, Aisha’s tearful face flashed again and again.

Without another thought, Ian turned and began to run. His heart pounded, his mind gone white, yet a flicker of reason rose to ask why he was running.

‘…If anything happens, I’ll have to take responsibility.’

Forcing himself to believe that was the reason—that it was because he’d be responsible if something happened—he pushed his legs harder. But the only things on his face were worry and unease.

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Sophia lifted her brows, glaring at the man before her. He had suddenly dragged her into a lounge—what if someone noticed? Still, despite her primly arched brows, the corners of her lips had curved ever so slightly upward.

‘…Well, I suppose it means he’s missed me that much.’

The man standing before her was Sophia’s secret lover. They had been together for two years now, and yet, with each passing day, she found herself liking him more.

Her lover, with his striking black hair and green eyes, didn’t have the muscular build of the knights who trailed after her, but he was tall, and the scholarly air about him was irresistibly appealing. When he drew close, she even liked the faint scent of dry paper and ink that clung to him.

‘…That doesn’t mean I’m going to forgive him.’

Today, she had no intention of throwing her arms around him or speaking to him first. While dragging her to the lounge might have been endearing, it was also careless — and, more than that, he had danced with another woman at the banquet tonight.

Just as she looked up at her lover with an almost sulky expression, the man who had been silently watching her finally spoke.

“Sophia.”

It was strange. He was usually reserved, yes, but never had he called her name with such a cold voice. The unease of it made her forget her earlier resolve to sulk in silence.

“Arthur?”

Arthur Parden’s face hardened further. His expression was as frigid as his tone, and Sophia instinctively reached out, taking hold of his arm.

“Arthur, what is it?”

His face twisted at the concern in her eyes. Unlike his brothers, who liked to say she had a spiteful nature, the Sophia he knew was kind and gentle.

“You…”

That was why it was hard for him to believe she could be the source of the malicious, filthy rumor about Aisha. He knew she disliked the woman, of course—but the Sophia he’d seen had always confined herself to sharp words, never crossing the line. Pressing his lips together, Arthur shut his eyes for a moment, then opened them again to meet hers.

“Was it really you?”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“There’s a vile rumor going around about Aisha—one not even fit to repeat. And they’re saying you started it.”

At his words, Sophia felt her heart drop. She had already been growing uneasy over how the rumor she’d begun had swelled far too much lately. Swallowing hard, she stepped closer to him with feigned innocence.

“Who would say that? I—I’d never do such a thing!”

“…So it was you.”

Arthur was certain now—Sophia was the source of the rumor. She had never been good at lying to his face. A wave of crushing despair hit him, and he pressed his hand to his forehead, his voice sharp with anger.

“Why would you do that? Do you have any idea how deadly words like that can be in this society?”

“I told you, I didn’t! And why are you the one yelling? The one who should be angry today is me! You broke your promise!”

Startled by his anger, Sophia faltered—then suddenly lashed out herself. Arthur’s brows arched, his green eyes taking on a frigid gleam, unable to make sense of her words.

“You were dancing with a woman. Why didn’t you keep your promise?”

He had only danced once tonight—and his partner had been Aisha. He had noticed Sophia glaring daggers at them while she danced with Ian, but this was her reason? Arthur pulled his arm from her grasp and stepped back.

“A woman? Aisha is my twin sister.”

“A sister is still a woman. If you promised not to dance with other women, you should’ve kept it!”