Betrayal of Dignity - Chapter 21

Episode: 21

“Do you have anything else to ask for?”

“Who said you can ask questions?”

The butler’s lips were shut. Damien slowly approached and made eye contact with him. Damien’s hand fell off after tapping his shoulder once.

“Paul.”

“Yes d, duke.”

Paul stuttered involuntarily.

“I respect talented people more than anyone else. But the opposite is different.”

The appearance of the Duke, who shared his opinions while sharing a glass of wine with businessmen and the person in front of him looked different to the extent that they could not be said to be the same person.

“Let’s do things right in the future.”

Damien’s lips moved upward in an arc, but his eyes were not. The butler could tell it from his feelings that his master was now warning him for the first and last time.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

***

Chapter 09. Damien

Damien read the letter, which had been read quickly, slowly, once again. Chloe’s letter was no different from what she had sent so far. Her handwriting was neat and the use of words was appropriate.

There was no agitation anywhere in the content of reporting what happened in the territory and expressing gratitude to the Duke. At first glance, it seemed like a lot of rhetoric (especially in the part that praises Damien’s work), but even so, her personal feelings were extremely restrained and soulless. Except for one part.

He shed a small smile as he opened the office drawer and dropped the new letter into the pile of letters. The end of numerous letters she has sent so far has always ended with the same name.

“Chloe Verdier.”

Damien leaned against the window and smiled low. It was in this regard that she provoked him. The envelope of the letter clearly stated Duchess of Tisse, but the signature at the end of letter, Chloe had never written her last name—Tisse

Damien glanced at the newspaper a while ago, which the Marquis Isabella, who had visited him today, left. The “Red Veil,” which featured himself and Isabella on the front page, probably made a savoury profit.

What did Chloe think when she saw this? Perhaps she felt ashamed. Since she lives with dignity and norms, did she cry because she couldn’t stand this embarrassment? No. As usual, he must have held back the tears with his eyes wide open, like a spoonful of cream mixed with sweet chocolate. She didn’t even know that’s what stimulates humans like him even more.

Damien felt the taste of alcohol on the root of his tongue getting deeper and deeper. It was clear that the table of the person who exaggerated the appearance of him and Isabella would be abundant today. The story of the marquise, who became famous thanks to her dead husband who left a great fortune, and the young and capable duke, was a convenient device to attract people’s interest.

Palang. Demien turned over the newspaper and checked the back page. There was also a clear article about the recent scream in the basement of the royal palace. There was also a rumor that the maid and servants were dying with all their blood drawn.

No one openly read the third-rate gossip that he was funding. But at least all the aristocrats he knew kept this newspaper secretly in their homes.

After the war, farmers and merchants who had managed to make ends meet actively welcomed the provocative news of high-ranking people. The royal family had officially announced that those who print this newspaper will be severely punished for spreading unconfirmed rumors.

He was also well aware that the reason for not conducting a large-scale search was that Damien occasionally leaked news that suited the taste of the royal family.

Tuk, tuk. Demien thought of Chloe, his fingers were tapping on the desk where the newspaper was spread out. He wondered what she was thinking.

If he could understand the sequence of thought processes going on in her tiny head, he felt like he could do anything.

“I think the duke wants power.”

That woman, who always avoided or lowered her gaze, occasionally looked straight at him and threw out a few words, this made something boil intolerable in his stomach. He snatched the sheepskin gloves that were neatly placed on the table with his hands. Blue veins popped up on the back of his large hand as he clasped the glove, which got completely crumpled by his hand.

Whenever he thought of her, he had an urge to grab something. If he could, it would be best to grab her, but he felt like she would break if he grabbed her a little too hard. No. She would rather bend but won’t break easily.

Demien recalled the moment when he first saw her. When he had to retreat with a lot of injured soldiers, it was the day he managed to find one of the local landlords who were guarding.

At night when the moans of those dying in the barracks continued, Chloe was at the bedside of a soldier who was fluctuating from death.

He still clearly remembered what she said while holding the hand of a soldier who was calling his mother in a confused mental state in the face of death.

“My son. My proud son. Your mom loves you a lot.”

Chloe dared to play his mother for the dying soldier. It was absurd to think about it now, but what made him even more speechless was the fact that the soldier, who was wandering between life and death, endured the night and eventually woke up.

“Crazy.”

It was surprising enough to make him swear even now. Damien once again confirmed that human mental strength can exceed the limits of the body.

“I’m sorry, but I’m going to pass.”

That night, the woman who was busily passing by Damien, who had come to inspect the barracks of the wounded, looked young enough to think that she was barely over twenty. She was also visibly limping with her leg, even with a cane. It was then that strange emotions hit his stomach.

He was annoyed with that woman.

He was annoyed that she offered to help others with a physical condition that would not be strange even if she was mixed with the wounded, and the calm expression on her face even in an unwelcome situation offended his heart.

A few days later, when he saw her again in the forest, the reality of the strange emotion became clear. If her hand holding the basket had not trembled, Damien would not have been convinced that she was afraid of him. He became a little thirsty when he thought of Chloe, who never showed tears even if her voice was filled with tears.

Damien knew he had a thorough insight into her nature. At the same time, he was newly aware of the fact that he felt a hunting instinct for that kind of human being. For example, an upright type who does not seek sympathy no matter how much you step on them.

He remembered the small bedroom that looked just like her. The piano, which is old but not a single dust had settled on it as if it had always been swept and wiped. When he recalled the crime novel that lay side by side with a book of the ascetic philosopher on the table, he involuntarily started to laugh.

The old cloth doll, sitting quietly on the bed, was probably given to her by her dead mother. The patterns of curtains, bed blankets, and cushions on the sofa were slightly different in color, but the embroidery format was completely consistent.

A room where there was nothing without her touch. It was a small world that seemed to abbreviate Chloe Verdi’s life. In the room, the woman would have made a small deviation by playing the piano and reading criminal novels quietly while studying the conservative philosopher’s thoughts. She would have embroidered in a place where the sunlight came in and covered her small world that is filled with her own traces.

What did she think while embroidering Tisse’s pattern on his gloves?

Damien recalled the most pleasant memory that took place there. The appearance of her trembling and kissing him with contempt while shedding tears silently was one of the most enjoyable memories he had ever experienced.

The time when I felt a similar feeling was when I stabbed the heart of the enemy commander who shot me a few years ago.

But his little pleasure won’t last long.

He was originally a person who was good at objectifying himself. He’ll get tired of seeing a woman kneeling down and begging five or three times. But it didn’t matter. He has already gotten enough from this marriage.

The water flowing down from the barren mountain in the forest, the private land of Verdie, was gleaming strangely. If the source of the placer was a mine, it was a pity for Viscount Verdier, who was suffering from debt, but it was also the fault of that man who did not recognize the gold in front of him.

He has never failed to do what he intended. The same goes for marriage.

Damien opened his hand slowly and saw the glove crumpled inside. He moistened his dry lips with his tongue when he imagined the woman staring at the white birch pattern while embroidering the stitch one by one. She had a characteristic of slightly opening her lips when she concentrated. Next time, he thought he should lock her in the room and make her sew all day long. After she runs out of pieces of fabric to sew on, he might as well have her embroider his body.

Recalling her careful breathing as she stitched the wounds torn by the beast, Damien gently closed his eyes and then opened them. It was his last generosity to Chloe Verdier who left without spending the first night with him. It was a consideration not to break her small body.

***

Comments from Korean Readers:

You married the lady of a humble family, wanted to reassure the royal family but it was for the gold buried in that land!!! You thief!!!

Male lead is so sick!!!!

Lol the comment section is funny

I’m blown away by the comments.

Regrets? Revenge? Please I want it