Chapter 9
[Forget that illegitimate princess and become the partner of our First Princess instead.]
His head rang, and everything felt dizzy. He couldn’t understand how someone who pushed his own daughter into hell could say something like that with such a kind smile.
[Excuse me?]
[Become the First Princess’s partner. I’ve always thought highly of you.]
[…]
[I’ve always thought it was a waste to give a count like you to a bastard like her.]
Why was she the illegitimate one? It was all the king’s fault. Not hers. But being called a bastard was a burden she had to carry her whole life… even though she never chose it.
[So, what do you think? Becoming the First Princess’s partner.]
[…I…]
[Oh… good.]
It felt like he could hear miserable, desperate crying in his ears. He clenched his fists, rough dirt and sharp stones digging into his palms and nails. This kind of pain didn’t matter.
Elena… the only thing he feared was the pain she would go through.
He hated himself for not being able to do anything.
[I…]
Elena… I’m sorry I can’t save you even though you’re so close.
[I will never become the First Princess’s fiancé.]
Never forgive me. For serving a king who could throw away his own child so easily. For being the kind of man who can’t save you and can only sit here in despair…
[Never.]
Hate me.
***
“How is my heart being called presumptuous, Your Grace?”
“You still can’t let go and desire a woman who’s already married. That’s why.”
Eyes burning bright red, like they could set everything on fire, stared at Lucas. He could clearly feel the killing intent directed at him, but he didn’t step back.
It didn’t matter who Elena married or if she had children.
As long as her last was him… as long as he was the last man in her life… nothing else mattered.
“It seems her heart isn’t with you either, so calling it presumptuous doesn’t quite fit.”
“Then keep that feeling safe.”
[…]
“So it doesn’t shatter when you see her standing beside me, a feeling that will never be returned.”
Those sharp words stabbed into Lucas’s chest.
Yeah… it made no sense. Saying he didn’t care who she married or had children with… that was a lie.
Every day, he wanted to kill the Grand Duke and take Elena away into his arms.
“Then you should also hold onto your feelings tightly.”
[…]
“Because you won’t receive even the slightest bit of affection from her.”
“Count Müller.”
“How could she love the enemy commander who almost destroyed her country?”
[…]
“To her, Your Grace is nothing more than a thug who keeps her trapped. Nothing more, nothing less.”
Lucas smirked as he walked past the stiffened Grand Duke. He spoke boldly, but he knew.
The way Elena looked at the Grand Duke… her expression, her eyes…
It shocked him, because he thought he knew her best.
“Damn it.”
Blood dripped from his tightly clenched hand onto the floor. The fact that her heart had already left him… and that night he failed to save her… it hurt deeply.
***
Elena ran toward the banquet hall, holding up her dress.
The king had called for her.
He hated being kept waiting. Even a small delay meant harsh scolding or punishment—starvation, thirst, or kneeling for hours while enduring verbal abuse.
But when she arrived, the servants said the king had already gone back to his chambers, so she hurried there instead.
Her breath was ragged, but she had to keep moving. Her body, trained her whole life, moved before she could even think.
“Hah… hah…”
Only when she reached the king’s chamber did she try to steady her breathing.
The knights guarding the door looked at her with disgust, but that didn’t matter. She just needed to get inside quickly.
“Please announce me.”
When she spoke, the guards informed the king.
“Your Highness, the Grand Duchess has arrived.”
Her hands trembled. Sweat formed as anxiety rushed in.
What if he got angry for her being late? What if he hit her again?
“Princess.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“It seems the Grand Duke treats you well.”
“…Yes, he does.”
“That’s why you’ve become so insolent.”
[…]
His calm tone was fake—his words were sharp like blades.
“How dare you run out of the banquet hall? Who do you think you are?”
“I-I’m sorry, Your Majesty… I’m sorry…”
“You think becoming a Grand Duchess means you can shame your father like this?”
Why was leaving the banquet hall shameful? She didn’t understand.
But her body moved out of habit—she dropped to her knees and begged, trembling.
What kind of princess gets treated worse than a slave by her own father?
Sorrow and fear mixed together, making her dizzy.
“That Grand Duke has ruined your manners! A woman should smile sweetly beside her husband!”
[…]
“You make that miserable face, get served instead of serving, and then run out and shame me for raising you poorly! How dare you disgrace me!”
The abuse poured down, but Elena didn’t resist.
She had grown used to this—years of insults and violence.
No one ever saved her. And she had learned that resisting only brought worse punishment.
While she trembled, kneeling and bowing, a guard’s voice rang out.
“Your Majesty! Grand Duke Leonid requests an audience!”
“…You’re lucky. Get up.”
The king snapped at her quietly.
Her legs, numb from kneeling so long, almost gave out, but she forced herself to stand.
“Open the door.”
The door opened, and Ian entered.
He glanced between the king and Elena, then bowed slightly.
“Your Majesty, it’s time for the Grand Duchess to take her medicine and rest, so I came to escort her. My apologies if this is rude.”
“Not at all. We were just talking after a long time. I didn’t realize it got this late.”
“Thank you for understanding.”
“Take her with you. Elena, serve your kind husband well.”
Hearing her father’s gentle tone for the first time made her skin crawl.
“Thank you for your kind advice, Father. I’ll follow it sincerely.”
“Grand Duchess, let’s go.”
Ian took Elena’s hand and led her out.
Her legs were still shaky, but he supported her naturally.
They walked through the dark hallway in silence.
“You must be tired.”
“…Yes, a little…”
“You should rest as soon as we return.”
As the numbness faded and she could walk normally again, Elena tried to pull her hand away.
But Ian didn’t let go.
“Your Grace.”
“…Yes.”
“Please let go now.”
He stopped walking.
“What do you mean?”
“…Your hand.”
“I want to keep holding it like this.”
[…]
“Is that not allowed?”
“Your Grace…”
“You won’t even allow me that much?”
She couldn’t answer.
She craved affection—but she didn’t want to beg for it.
She wanted genuine love, not something forced or out of obligation.
“Did any of this ever happen with my consent?”
[…]
“None of this—nothing—has ever been my choice.”
“Elena.”
His low voice sounded like a warning, and it scared her.
But she was too angry to stop.
“Being dragged into your tent… marrying you… living while watching your lover—no one ever asked me.”
[…]
“So it doesn’t matter.”
“Elena.”
His voice echoed in the dark hallway, and it made her heart tremble—something she hated.
“I don’t care how you treat me or how you see me.”
[…]
“So… Your Grace.”
She pulled her hand out of his.
His warmth still lingered on her skin.
She didn’t want to lose herself in it anymore.
“I don’t care about you. So please… do whatever you want.”
[…]
She walked ahead without looking back.
Ian didn’t follow.
Watching her disappear into the rose-scented garden, he smiled.
Beautifully. Brightly.
But also dark and obsessive.
“Thank you, Elena… for allowing yourself to me.”
