“Father, I’ve found something I want to do.”

I want to see Clara. Every day, I want to see that beautiful smile. I feel like I can breathe again that way. Dylan suppressed the words welling up to his chin and spoke again.

“I want to buy Willingham Riding Grounds.”

His sharp mind quickly created a plausible excuse to get his opinion approved in one go.

“Like a trophy for overcoming your fear……”

Count Berkshire muttered, interpreting his son’s decision favorably.

“Very well. How do you plan to buy the riding grounds?”

“I intend to study real estate investment thoroughly. I’ve already tried investing with the money I’ve saved, and if you could lend me a bit more, I think I could make it grow even larger. Until then, I plan to keep visiting the riding grounds.”

Count Berkshire’s brow furrowed slightly.

He seemed to wonder why his son needed to visit the riding grounds and spend money there. Sensing his opportunity, Dylan recited something his father had once told him.

“……Didn’t you teach me that if there’s something you want, you should keep watching it and seize the opportunity when it comes?”

Count Berkshire’s wrinkled lips tightened. It was a satisfied smile.

Having obtained permission and returned to Willingham Riding Grounds, Dylan felt his field of vision broaden.

Not because he could now look directly at many horses. Rather, he began to notice not just Clara, but also the gazes directed at her.

“Isn’t she pretty?”

“Who?”

“That blonde over there, the one with long hair.”

How dare they look at my Clara with such impure eyes. Dylan felt rage rising. He wanted to walk right up to them and throw punches.

“Oh, she is pretty.”

“Right? Should I write her a love letter? Girls fall for that stuff.”

“Yeah, and then knock her down.”

The noble boys snickered, enjoying their lewd wordplay. Dylan glared at them. He wanted to cripple them, but they were nobles too. Besides, causing trouble might get him scolded by his father and banned from the riding grounds.

So Dylan devised a petty trick. If they were embarrassed, they wouldn’t come back here.

By now, Dylan was more familiar with the riding grounds’ structure and facilities than anyone. He secretly removed letters placed in Clara’s cabinet and put laxatives in those dirty fellows’ drinks.

There were no variables. They made the mistake of being unable to hold their bowels while riding, and after that, they never returned to the riding grounds.

But Dylan couldn’t stop keeping an eye on Clara’s surroundings. Though the guys he’d dealt with were particularly bad, there were still other males drooling over her.

Why hadn’t he noticed before? Dylan tore up yet another love letter from someone and habitually threw it in the trash. This way, Clara could focus solely on horseback riding.

‘I’ll protect you.’

Dylan smiled quietly.

And so another daily routine was added.

“Nyx, well done!”

Meanwhile, Clara remained unchanged. Bright, clear, kind, and beautiful. After finishing her ride, she always kissed her beloved horse Nyx.

Dylan sat on the terrace, pretending to drink tea while admiring Clara. Staring openly was rude and a bad habit.

But his gaze kept moving on its own. Like a sunflower looking at the sun, this one-directional gaze performed for survival wasn’t something he could control.

Time continued to flow, and Dylan turned twenty-three while Clara became twenty-one.

He continued secretly protecting her. It became even easier after he purchased Willingham Riding Grounds six months ago. He separated the pathways by gender, making it so men and women could only encounter each other in terraces or rest areas. And he accommodated everything for Clara’s convenience. As a result, membership at the riding grounds increased, and satisfaction improved.

‘She’s still the same……’

Dylan inwardly admired Clara as she moved with consistent regularity.

Though she appeared delicate at first glance, the contours of her firm muscles showed through her form-fitting riding clothes. Clara removed her hat and loosened her disheveled hair before tying it up again. Holding the hair tie between her plump lips, she raised both arms to touch her long hair.

Her raised arms, fully exposed armpits, and the outline of her swelling chest… An impure shock struck him.

When did she become such a woman? While he had been secretly protecting her, Clara had become a full-fledged woman in reality.

“Yawn……”

Clara yawned after she finished tying her hair. She covered her open mouth with her hand, but couldn’t hide the small teardrops that leaked from the corners of her eyes.

His mind quickly became messy. He wanted to touch her elastic skin. He wanted to burrow into her narrow crevice. With his impolite horn that showed no signs of subsiding, he wanted to press against her delicate flesh, push through it, trap her in his arms, and leave teeth marks on her soft, swaying, full br*asts while burying his face in them.

Why are you so pretty when you cry? I want to make you cry. Should I make you cry beneath me? As if a demon had entered his mind, lewd and vulgar imaginations continued endlessly.

These sinister fantasies eventually invaded Dylan’s nights as well.

‘You’re sweating a lot.’

The words the young girl had spoken when showing kindness in childhood became familiar through repeated dreams. But the actions of Clara, now a full-fledged woman, changed.

‘Beads of sweat keep forming here?’

Clara’s gaze, accompanied by a bright smile, fell on the center of his rising lower body.

Dylan hurriedly lowered his gaze. Somehow his body was already n*ked, and his c*ck was fully *rect. Clear liquid was bubbling up from the hollowed gl*ns. The beads of sweat Clara mentioned were pre-c*m.

‘Should I wipe your sweat for you?’

This time, instead of a handkerchief, Clara offered her br*asts. With her round, large br*asts supported by both hands, she approached and……

“Gasp!”

Waking from sleep, Dylan first checked his c*ck that had been tormented by Clara’s fair br*asts. His c*ck, teased not by reality but by fantasy, was fully aroused from the morning. More s*men than usual had leaked from his *rect c*ck, soiling his underwear and bedding.

‘Ah, she used to be my little girl, but why.’

Was he going crazy? His excitement showed no signs of subsiding. His crotch was swollen and painful. His body, drenched in sweat from head to toe, made it harder to escape the dream.

Dylan wanted to cry. He was consumed by guilt for having strange fantasies and dreams about an innocent woman. But in the end, he succumbed to his instincts. When night came, he couldn’t sleep as last night’s dream came to mind.

That night, Dylan finally stroked his c*ck until the gl*ns was raw. While calling Clara’s name.

Clara’s afterimage became blurry only after he masturbated. But that was temporary. Dylan floundered in the vivid afterimages that visited him like a succubus every night. His unripe desire ripened in this way.

After that, everything flowed naturally, as if riding a current. He would masturbate thinking of Clara, go to the riding grounds to peek at her, tear up and dispose of any letters he found, look at properties to buy and sell, go to auctions to work and study—a continuous series of such daily activities.

Dylan rationalized and accepted himself this way. That the direction of his desire had changed, that his emotion had transformed from simple admiration to dirty and obscene desire.

Yes, I’m just watching. I’m not touching her, just watching while dealing with strange guys……

As always, Dylan sat on the terrace, pretending to read a daily newspaper while listening for Clara.

Today, her friend had visited after a long time. It was quite unusual. The conversation that started with trivial matters like horoscopes quickly moved to marriage issues. Specifically, about Count Brock considering a recruitment notice for a fiancé.

“It’s time to get married now.”

When Clara’s friend said that, Dylan crushed the edge of the newspaper in his hand. Their topic soon shifted to ideal types. It seemed her friend was trying to find and connect Clara with a man.

“Still, the most important thing is being good at riding, right?”

“Of course. I’d prefer someone who can enjoy horseback riding with me.”

Clara answered with a bright smile to her friend’s question.

Dylan felt as if his heart was dropping.

It wasn’t just watching. He actually knew. Since Clara had said from a young age that her ideal type was a man who rode horses well, he had only peeked at her while pessimistically thinking he couldn’t meet her only condition.