CHAPTER 95……………………………………….
That day, Lloyd fainted.
When he woke again, it was because another assassin had come for him.
This time, there were two.
Crying for his life, Lloyd killed the assassins.
Then, as if she had been waiting for that moment, Priscilla appeared and again forced him to open the assassins’ thighs.
Inside, without fail, was one of Priscilla’s devices.
That went on until the day Lloyd finally left the mansion.
One by one, two by two… the number of assassins Lloyd dealt with grew.
By the time he no longer feared killing, Lloyd became terrified that he was losing his humanity — and surrendered.
“I… I was wrong.”
“At least you realize it now. That’s a relief.”
Priscilla patted Lloyd’s head as he begged for forgiveness.
After that, Lloyd began wearing a mask.
He hid the hair that reminded him of Priscilla’s.
It was still hard for him to go outside, but anything was better than waking in the night to assassins.
Fortunately, Priscilla, though displeased with the mask and wig, allowed it — perhaps because she knew fear could no longer control him.
Lloyd hadn’t yielded out of obedience, but exhaustion.
He lived following Priscilla’s orders like a toothless beast, like a puppet on strings.
Then one day, Priscilla informed him:
“I’m considering arranging your marriage with the princess.”
It felt as if a bucket of ice water had been dumped over his head.
From a toothless beast, to a puppet, and now to a stud horse?
If he had to live like that for the rest of his life, he would either go mad or kill himself.
If he had to live as a breeding tool, he at least wanted to escape Priscilla completely.
So Lloyd rushed to the Emperor and begged.
He pleaded to be freed from Priscilla — he would do anything.
The Emperor, amused, asked him:
“Anything, you say?”
As it happened, the Emperor had already grown wary of Priscilla’s growing power.
Lloyd didn’t know what words the Emperor spoke to her afterward — only that, against all expectation, Priscilla handed over her title of Grand Duke to him.
But that position was far too heavy for Lloyd.
He hadn’t wanted power.
He just wanted to disappear.
So, on the day of his coming-of-age ceremony, he made one more request.
“Please grant me a false identity and land. Once I marry Her Highness, I’ll have to pass on my title anyway. I plan to adopt an heir and give it to them.”
The Emperor agreed.
He had no reason to stop a Grand Duchy he disliked from collapsing on its own.
But when marriage negotiations officially began, Minerva suddenly raised an uproar, fiercely opposing the match.
The Emperor and Priscilla were disappointed, but Lloyd felt only gratitude toward Minerva.
If he could find a good heir, he wouldn’t have to live as a puppet or a stud horse.
He hadn’t expected to be saddled with errands from the Emperor — or that Minerva would be confined — but it didn’t hinder his plans much.
Minerva was quieter than expected, and so Lloyd could travel to orphanages freely in search of an heir.
That’s how he found Ayla — in a run-down orphanage in the countryside.
Lloyd still remembered their first meeting.
“You’re Ayla, right? I’ve heard you’re the smartest one here.”
“…No. That’s exaggerated.”
A timid face, a discouraged posture — everything about her reminded him of his younger self.
He couldn’t turn away from her.
And with her sharp mind, she’d have no trouble becoming a Grand Duchess.
So, without hesitation, he adopted her.
At first, he did it only to raise her as his successor.
But when he heard from Minerva that Ayla had been abused, his world flipped upside down — his blood boiled.
How was he any different from Priscilla?
He had given her material comfort but no warmth.
He had excused it by saying Ayla preferred distance — but that wasn’t true.
He had simply been too anxious, too impatient for her to grow up and take his place.
Ayla, like him, was quick to sense others’ motives.
She must have known, at least vaguely, that he was raising her with an agenda.
Once he realized that, he could never go back.
He felt guilty toward the child who forgave his indifference — and wanted to do better.
He wanted to give Ayla everything his younger self had been denied.
After they began talking more, he felt as though she were truly his own daughter, born from his heart.
So when Ayla defended him — even as Priscilla humiliated her — Lloyd’s body moved on its own.
“What do you think you’re doing!?”
Lloyd covered Ayla’s ears, as if to block her from hearing.
“What are you saying to my daughter, Mother?”
He had expected Priscilla might eavesdrop — but she wasn’t surprised. Fixing him with a cold stare, she commanded:
“Lloyd. Step aside. I need to correct this child’s insolence today.”
“I… I can’t do that.”
Though his trauma made him stammer, he couldn’t obey her — not this time.
Lloyd hid Ayla behind him, shielding her.
There was no reason for Priscilla to remain gentle with a disobedient son.
She reached out and ripped the mask from Lloyd’s face, throwing it aside.
“So, you finally act like a father — how cute. But to defy me? That I cannot forgive.”
Without his mask, Lloyd was usually a trembling fool — or so she thought.
But this time, though his eyes shook like an earthquake, he stared straight at her.
Directly.
“How dare you look at me with those eyes…”
It was unthinkable — that Lloyd would glare at her like that.
But he did.
Lloyd, who had lived his whole life as a toothless beast, a tamed slave — when had he grown so much?
Standing now, towering over Priscilla, he looked as if he could devour her whole.
“I told you not to touch Ayla.”
Had he always been… this tall?
Priscilla’s pupils trembled — slightly.
But only for a moment.
She was a Grand Duchess who commanded nobles. She wouldn’t cower before a defective son.
Regaining her composure, she pushed his shoulder.
“I said, move—”
But Lloyd didn’t budge.
The boy who used to stumble whenever she pushed him — now stood firm.
To Priscilla, it was as if the world had turned upside down.
“Lloyd, you… you dare…”
“Don’t hit my father!”
Before Priscilla could finish, Ayla leapt out from behind Lloyd and shouted at her.
Her eyes brimmed with tears — not from fear, but from anger.
Two pairs of blue eyes glared at Priscilla in defiance.
“I can tolerate your insults to me, but not toward my daughter. Leave the Grand Duchy. Now.”
Lloyd pointed toward the door.
Priscilla let out a short, incredulous laugh.
Leave the Grand Duchy? This was her land.
Of course his demand sounded absurd.
The veins in her neck bulged.
“This is my land! My castle — built by my hands! You grew fat on my fortune, and now you dare talk like that? Are you even my son?”
“I never once wished to be your son.”
“You’ve enjoyed every privilege, and now you talk back? Shameless! Yes, shameless enough to ask the Emperor to strip me of my title, aren’t you? Ha!”
Priscilla’s face flushed red and white with fury.
Having lived her whole life controlling everything, she couldn’t handle losing control.
Deprived of power, she was overwhelmed — unable to manage her rage.
Just as it seemed she might collapse from anger, a calm voice broke through the tension.
“Everyone, please calm down.”
It was Minerva, who had been quietly watching from outside.
