Chapter 31
He deliberately didn’t even glance toward his mother. Even so, the image kept searing into his eyes. Her fingers curled inward, the wrinkled hem of her skirt, the slender calf revealed beneath. The afterimage was burned into his retina.
The night he had been overcome with unfamiliar happiness. The two legs that had wrapped around him, kissed him countless times, now stood forcibly exposed, pitifully violated. He didn’t want to see it. More accurately, he didn’t have the confidence to look.
His mind was in chaos—there was no way the letters and numbers he was forcing into it could register. Hitaon lost the flow of the lesson several times after that. No sound of hitting came. As he thought—his mother wasn’t certain either. It was just a threat, using her as—
Crack! As if mocking his thoughts, a frosty friction split the air. Hitaon’s hand, which had been rolling the quill, stopped. He felt as if he had been struck himself, not her. His head throbbed from the shock. It wasn’t… just a threat?
“Young master. Please continue.”
The tutor, unwilling to tolerate any lag, issued a warning. Crack— Another sound tore through the air, like the price of negligence. It felt as if his head were being smashed in real time.
Still? For how long? How much longer did he have to endure this idiotic farce? Was his mother still suspicious? Or had she already figured everything out and was deliberately driving the situation to extremes…
“Hngh…!”
Having reached her limit, Luirene, who had been enduring well, let out a tearful moan. Caught by that moan, Hitaon’s head turned.
The smooth calf, once free of any blemish, was no more. Several red lines were drawn across the white skin, and blood trickled in thin streaks from a split in the flesh.
“Does it hurt?”
The Marchioness asked. Luirene, standing on the platform, thought that voice was chillingly cold. She could feel the sharp malice that had abused her leg, directly and fully.
This was a kind of warning. That she was receiving punishment for daring to covet the precious young master. The line she had felt while looking at his noble silver hair—the uncrossable line—as if reminding her of it through corporal punishment.
In truth, the moment Luirene heard that the Marchioness was summoning her, she had sensed things would go this way. No, she had sensed it from the moment Hitaon had stopped visiting, just in case.
The burning wound felt deserved. She had secretly stolen and tasted a beautiful, noble fruit she shouldn’t have been able to touch—so it was only natural, in a way, for heaven to be angry.
“It’s, it’s fine….”
The pain was so great even her tongue throbbed. She forced the answer out with strength in her voice. Her grip loosened and her skirt slipped down. The fabric touched the wound—the sting was maddening. So painful that her eyes already red, she clutched the skirt.
She was terrified of being struck again. But she was more afraid of making a fuss here, refusing to endure, eventually exposing the relationship, and causing the young master to suffer harm. Her plan was to force herself to endure and get past this situation. Once she got past this crisis…
Crack!
“…Ngh.”
Crack!
“Hah, haah.”
The more the beating continued, the more her body trembled like an aspen. No scent of tea lingered now. The only thing in this room was the smell of blood. She hadn’t known the area—which had only ever itched pleasantly when receiving undeserved affection—could be this fragile. So fragile that she kept wanting to give everything up.
“Ugh…!”
Finally, Luirene couldn’t withstand the pain and collapsed forward. The platform fell with her, tumbling to the floor. Blood droplets dripped and soaked into the carpet beneath her.
“Oh dear, blood…”
“Hah, hng.”
“If she’s left like that, the carpet will get stained. What are you doing instead of helping her up immediately?”
It was the first time another person’s voice had felt so terrifying. Luirene’s mind grew hazy from the hands grabbing her arms. Just as she was being almost forcibly lifted—
Bam!
A rough impact echoed through the room.
“Hita. What’s wrong?”
“Is this truly for the sake of my concentration?”
“Are you saying it isn’t?”
“You bring a complete stranger before my eyes and demonstratively turn her into a bloody mess—and that is truly the reason?”
Hitaon, sneering coldly, approached and reached out his hand.
“Give it to me.”
“What do you mean?”
“The switch.”
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