“Yes.”

He nodded and stood up, striding toward her. Rochelle held her breath. The look in his eyes as he stared at her was openly mocking. Ivan nodded at her.

“I came to find the runaway noblewoman. But then, someone brought me a rather interesting story.”

“……”

“I wanted to hear it from you directly, to see what’s really going on.”

Rochelle clenched her hands on her knees. Her wrists, bound for so long, ached dully.

When she looked down at the strange emptiness, she realized the ropes that had tightly bound her hands and feet were gone. Carefully, Rochelle pressed her knees together and drew her right leg up toward her stomach, then stretched it out again. It was a freedom she thought she would never enjoy again in her lifetime.

Rochelle lifted her gaze once more. Behind the man, she saw a large door.

…Could she escape?

‘No, impossible.’

The hope that briefly flitted through her mind quickly disappeared. Instinct reminded her of reality. Beyond that door, countless revolutionaries, armed with matchlock rifles, would be standing guard.

Maybe dying with her body riddled with bullets wouldn’t be so bad. Like a beehive.

But her honest body kept holding her back.

‘Don’t do it, Rochelle. Wait for Yevgeny, you can survive.’

Even thinking about death filled her with fear, and her reason kept soothing her. Her throat, scorched by feverish breaths, felt raw.

Frowning, Rochelle replied in a small, cracked voice.

“…What story?”

“The rumor that you and my brother, Rochelle Kotov, shared both body and soul.”

“……”

“Is it true?”

Ivan raised an eyebrow as he asked. Rochelle, curling her lips in defiance, nodded.

“What if the rumor is true?”

“……”

“Yes. I did, with Yevgeny.”

Yevgeny.

As she spoke his name again, almost savoring it, Ivan approached with a bright smile and slapped her across the face. The sound of skin tearing rang through the room.

Rochelle numbly raised her hand to touch her cheek. Her skin, long neglected, felt rough like peeling tree bark. Blood from her cracked skin soaked her palm. Pain followed.

“Ugh…”

As a faint whimper escaped her lips, Ivan, as if annoyed by the sound, grabbed her face roughly with his large hand and forced her to look at him.

“You have quite a pretty face. With your pitiful past and skinny frame, sure, anyone would feel sorry for you. But Rochelle, how long do you think that foolish pity will last?”

“……”

“What, did you think it would last a week? Is that why you sold yourself to him? Begged him to hide you from the revolutionaries, from his brother? Did you think Yevgeny was different from us? Ha! Not a chance!”

“…He is different.”

“For someone who’s been abandoned.”

“I wasn’t abandoned.”

Speaking firmly and lifting her chin, Ivan seemed to feel insulted and slapped Rochelle again, then grabbed her hair and smashed her face into the wooden table behind him.

In pain, Rochelle pushed hard against the table with both hands and screamed. No, no! Blood from her wounds smeared all over the wood. Even at her chilling scream, Ivan relentlessly pressed down on the back of her neck.

“Mmgh, mmgh…!”

She couldn’t breathe. Her face turned pale as she grabbed the man’s rough hand around her throat, twisting her body. She was reaching her limit.

Just as her resistance began to weaken, Ivan yanked her head up by the hair.

“You stupid woman. Let me tell you a truth.”

“Gasp, gasp…!”

“If you really believe he loved you sincerely, you’re gravely mistaken. That bastard doesn’t know what sincerity is. Yevgeny just pretended to be a kind man who couldn’t ignore others’ suffering.”

“……”

“Or maybe you two pathetic rats, with your similar circumstances, conspired together for some scheme?”

Rochelle, her focus scattered, gasped desperately for air, trying to fill her lungs. As cold air rushed in, her shrunken lungs ached as if pricked with needles. Not long after, Ivan again squeezed her thin neck and slapped her hard with his other hand.

“Agh! Hrk, ugh!”

Ivan laughed heartily as he watched her eyes roll back. Her feeble resistance was so weak it was almost amusing. As her body began to slump, he grabbed her hair again and pulled her face up.

“Tell me. What did he say to you? Did he whisper love in your ear? Or did he promise you a reward if you helped him? What did he want, tell me now!”

“Ugh…!”

He showed no sign of tiring, demanding answers from Rochelle, who trembled in terror. No matter how hard she tried to endure, guttural moans kept escaping her lips.

Ivan repeated the same actions again and again. If there had been even a faint hope of escaping the revolutionaries, Rochelle might have said anything to end this pain, to return to her parents and a life of eternal peace.

But what helped her endure the humiliation and pain was the little pride she had left as a noble, and the vivid, brief memories of Yevgeny.

At that moment, a man who had been standing behind the door cautiously approached Ivan and Rochelle.

“Sir Ivan… Nothing’s been decided yet, but it’s possible that General Bledoneur might accept his request…”

“What is it, Kaiten?”

“There’s no benefit to us if her body is covered in wounds.”

“Ah, so you mean I should only hit her where it won’t show? Dealing with a noble is such a hassle.”

Rochelle, pale as a corpse, slumped under the table, staring into space. Her body was already in ruins. White foam bubbled from her mouth, and her limbs trembled uncontrollably.

Ivan’s black hair fluttered in the breeze, then softly fell across his forehead. He laughed heartily at the pitiful sight of the woman, now one step closer to death. He seemed unable to hide the joy welling up from deep inside, laughing loudly and boldly. Yet his eyes raged with fury, as if he might snap her neck at any moment.

***

Who in the world was General Bledoneur? She didn’t know, but ever since his name started coming up, the revolutionaries stopped torturing Rochelle.

That didn’t mean she was given a comfortable place or food. They still threw her into the prison cell, watching her in shifts, keeping her close in case she tried anything strange.

From the constant hunger, Rochelle began to see hallucinations. Sometimes, her dead parents appeared; other times, her nanny Marie; and sometimes, even Yevgeny, whom she loved, would appear and embrace her gently.

Rochelle would stretch out her arms to the empty air and cry out, “Take me away, please, take me far away. I really feel like I’m going to die…”

But when she opened her eyes, she was alone again. Gasping, she would clutch the cold wall and collapse onto the floor. Her legs trembled. When would she be able to escape this place? What was Yevgeny doing now? When would she finally find peace?

Half out of her mind, Rochelle began grabbing the revolutionaries who came in on shifts, sobbing.

“Let me go, let me go, or just kill me!”

But the men only stared at her from a distance with displeased expressions. Some of them even waved their arms as if she were dirty. Pushed by their force, Rochelle fell to the floor again.

Lying on the cold ground, gasping for breath, Rochelle finally burst into tears. Then, worried about wasting what little moisture was left in her body, she quickly stopped. Her whole body twisted like a dried matchstick.

Another day passed. Now, living or dying no longer mattered to her as she began to pant with thirst.

“Water, give me water, please, please!”

‘Rochelle rolled on the floor, crying out. No one will come to save you. See, there’s no one by your side even now.’

She desperately tried to suppress the wave of despairing thoughts that flooded her mind.