Hiya– It’s Me, The Runaway Female Lead - Chapter 4

The one small mercy was that I was the only person for whom Claude ever bothered to use somewhat ‘softened’ language.

“Think I’m joking? Do I have to slice it up and feed it to pigs for you to finally believe it with your own eyes?”

The fact that this was his filtered version was frankly disheartening.

More than anything, I knew better than anyone that he had both the power and the means to turn any joke into reality whenever he wished. So instead of provoking him further, I quietly rolled my eyes around, racking my brain for a way to make him let go of that imaginary rival in his head.

The reason Claude’s language had gotten so foul was probably because he’d been thrown into bloody fields where people dropped dead left and right before his mind had even finished developing.

Most servants agreed it had simply become a habit. After all, he had grown up in a world so harsh that the only language spoken was the coarse tongue of the battlefield. But… every now and then, I wondered if that was just his personality problem.

His obsessive possessiveness, too—excessive to a fault—must have come from the special training meant for the heir of a ducal house.

To hone him not like a man, but like a beast. So that no one could ever take what was his. To sharpen his survival instincts and competitive drive to the limit, that’s what the training was said to be.

Because of that, Claude, whom I’d watched from up close, felt like a predator. One endlessly sharpened by constant turf wars and feeding frenzies.

So razor-edged, it seemed like he’d snap any moment from sheer tension alone. Just watching him made me anxious.

That someone like him could find even brief relief through my body. Well, it was somewhat rewarding for me too.

And I had a decent idea of how to soothe him when he got worked up like this.

Even so, one thought that had suddenly crossed my mind made me choose not to comfort him on purpose.

“You’d better wise up, Ayla. Do you really think, at this point, that some two-bit bastard could ever catch your eye? Or are you actually dying to see what it’s like when I clean up a corpse?”

When I didn’t respond at all, Claude only stoked his own fury with his words, pacing and ranting as if driven by the heat of his own temper.

Even as I watched him carry on like that, I stayed quiet, deliberately letting him escalate into even harsher language.

His vicious glare and twisted expression would’ve made any grown man flinch, but the actual target—me—wasn’t that bothered.

No matter how wild the beast, if you see it every day, you build immunity.

I was already naturally thick-skinned, and now, with nearly three years of rolling around in bed with Claude under my belt, I had developed the mental fortitude to snore through even his most aggressive verbal assaults.

“You probably got spoiled by that first taste of c**k and can’t even tell anymore. But you won’t find another man like me in this damn Empire, no matter how deep you dig. You’d better know your place, Ayla.”

The ‘know your place’ part almost rubbed me the wrong way, but everything else? He wasn’t exactly wrong.

“Of course. You’re absolutely right.”

Since his remarks had zero real impact, I nodded without resistance. I could feel his agitation and frustration spike from my calm reaction.

“Then again, no one but a lunatic would go near someone like you.”

Except for the fact that he was that lunatic… Aside from that small contradiction, it was a solid argument.

“After tasting my c**k once, you probably think you could handle anyone’s if you felt like it, huh? That’s delusional, Ayla.”

Delusional? Honestly, the only thing excessive around here tonight was the size of his d**k.

“You still can’t even take mine properly, and you think— F**k…”

Without even realizing it, I yawned. It wasn’t on purpose, but it certainly did the job. Claude looked even more pissed off now.

That, I could live with. The real problem was that it wasn’t just him getting riled up.

His other half was getting fired up too.

Even as he hurled every scathing word he could think of, he’d started grazing my chest with those sharp teeth, kneading with his mouth. And that unwavering hardness, which hadn’t waned once since earlier, was slowly rubbing itself between my thighs. Now his hands were squeezing at my b*****s too.

“As a bed partner, you’re the f*****g worst. So don’t go getting any funny ideas. Got it?”

Young Master, please… just try aligning your words and actions for once…