19:
Clue
The Langston that Vivianne rode delivered her to a magnificent estate. It was only after crossing long pathways flanked by angular lakes that they finally arrived.
Only when she stepped out of the car did Vivianne understand the Duke’s words about how, in the forests of the western empire, the wind made the trees sway in a scene worth seeing. The beautiful evergreens behind the modern, grand mansion seemed to welcome her, rustling in the breeze.
Vivianne glanced around, then took the small bag the mansion had provided and tapped on the window of the Langston limousine. The glass slowly rolled down, revealing a man wearing a hat pulled low.
“I’m sorry… this isn’t my home.”
“Then whose home do you think it is?”
Vivianne studied his face in confusion. This was not the driver who had been waiting when she and the Duchess went to the gallery.
The window slowly began to roll back up.
Vivianne called out to the driver frantically with her small hands, tapping on the glass, but he was unyielding.
Soon, the car reversed, changed direction, and sped toward the distant gate. As the car neared, the iron gates swung open, only to close firmly behind it.
Vivianne slumped into her seat. She pinched her cheeks, convinced she must be dreaming. Everything felt unreal, astonishingly so.
Surely such a beautiful place couldn’t exist in the world. She must have dozed off in the car.
Slapping her cheeks to clear her mind only made stars dance before her eyes. Then she heard the sound of a door opening behind her.
A foreign woman dressed in the attire of the Darto Empire spoke in a language of the eastern continent. Vivianne didn’t understand and could only repeat that she didn’t comprehend.
“Miss.”
When the woman pointed at Vivianne and spoke in the imperial tongue, Vivianne nodded.
“Yes.”
“House.”
The woman pointed toward the mansion. Vivianne nodded more vigorously.
“Yes, that’s right. The mansion.”
“Your house.”
Vivianne shook her head.
“No, it’s not my home.”
Yet the woman stubbornly grabbed her arm and tried to pull her into the mansion. Unable to resist the strong grip, Vivianne was forced across the threshold. The cool shadows cast by the colonnade brushed against her.
She tried to convince herself that the woman meant no harm, perhaps only trying to feed a helpless, granddaughter-like stranger milk and cookies, and ignored the sound of the door locking behind her.
She intended to ask if she could use a phone.
Inside, like any grand stone mansion, the air was cold. Vivianne followed the woman, looking at a hall even larger than the Duke’s, before ascending the staircase leading to the second floor—the left side of the bifurcated stairs.
Recalling the paintings she’d seen at the gallery, she realized this place might have hosted countless debutante balls in its past, its splendor almost matching that of the artworks themselves.
Vivianne walked the vast corridor, glancing at the paintings. The mansion’s owner seemed to have a collector’s taste, displaying only rare pieces—works once thought forgotten by the world.
Though she had already seen countless sculptures that day, the plaster statues here were all exquisite.
Soon, the woman stopped in front of a room. When she opened the door, Vivianne froze.
It was a bedroom, not a reception room.
For a moment, Vivianne wondered if this could be the mansion of an underworld boss. As she tried to back away, confirming an escape route, the woman’s firm hand shoved her inside again and locked the door.
Vivianne, gripped by intense fear, searched for a phone in vain.
She looked for anything to throw out the window but found no curtains. Even lifting the mattress revealed only a sheet. She explored the adjoining rooms—the study, dining room, and private hall—yet nothing seemed throwable.
Then, an idea struck her. She returned to the starting point, pulled the sheet, and inhaled. The scent was familiar, as if she had slept here just yesterday.
It was the scent of that man.
“Do you know that my nephew’s perfume lingers on you? Even if you try to erase it, it faintly remains,” she thought.
Perhaps it was a trap to reassure her.
Vivianne cautiously sat on the mattress, smoothing the sheet. It didn’t feel new; it had been used. Satisfied, she got up.
Her steps returned to the study. Among the rows of thick books, she pulled out one labeled Economics and flipped it open.
Her heart pounded.
Edmund Hiard Colt
The handwriting…
Vivianne had seen the agent sign a check once. She didn’t remember clearly, but the handwriting in this book was identical.
She flipped through several books, confirming the consistency. Even the agent’s disguise had been perfect down to these details. She tried to calm herself. Could handwriting really be so flawlessly identical?
Looking around, scattered books lay in disarray. Memories of the Duke’s mansion slowly drifted back.
Vivianne, weak in the legs, slumped down, unable to rise, when the door opened. Footsteps approached, and a familiar shadow appeared. Kneeling beside her, he exuded the same scent she had traced on the mattress.
When his fingers brushed her chin, Vivianne went numb.
No, it couldn’t be.
A paper fluttered nearby, breaking her thoughts.
Vivianne received it with effort.
It was a brief letter from the Rex family demanding annulment, signed by the head of the family and Ludovic himself.
Ludovic’s handwriting stated the reason: “Doubt regarding the fiancé’s fidelity and morality,” each character carefully inked.
Reality struck.
Vivianne tried to suppress her suspicions and laughed at herself for still refusing to accept the agent’s death.
The same man, capable of using what had happened in the storage room to his advantage, yet also reminding her of that kind agent…
“…My legs are weak, Count.”
Even admitting the agent would never return couldn’t settle her mind.
Edmund silently lifted her toward the bed. She buried her face in the soft mattress, feeling sorrowful.
She needed to forget—but couldn’t. She sought evidence of the agent’s presence, wanting to believe in it, if only briefly.
She had loved him enough to kiss the Count at the Duke’s mansion and vow revenge on the underworld boss. Yet these misdirected feelings could not stir another whirlwind inside her. What remained here was only a cruel man demanding her to beg for love.
When his hand touched her ankle, she flinched. Edmund removed her shoes, then slid down her white lace stockings to her knees.
Vivianne shivered with shallow breaths. The words he had spoken at the Duke’s mansion—the promise to hold onto her irrevocably—did they mean he was sincere? Previously, she had restrained herself in front of his father and uncle to survive, but now she didn’t need to hide her feelings.
Still, she wasn’t terrified; she had already seen and touched his body, threatening yet benevolent.
His jacket fell to the floor, vest buttons undone. Black leather gloves lay beside the jacket and shoes. His bare hands brushed against her thighs, and her body reacted. Her heated breath recalled his touch.
Vivianne found it strange that her body warmed against her own feelings.
As he climbed onto the bed and positioned himself between her legs, exploring with his fingers, she closed her eyes, trying to resist, but her legs inadvertently squeezed him closer. His stern expression softened. Before she even registered it, he leaned in and kissed her.
The kiss was gentle, as if to soothe her. When she awkwardly accepted his saliva, he allowed her to breathe before resuming, whispering into her ear:
“This time, I’m here to give you what you want.”
“….”
“…Now, wrap your legs around me.”
“…Count.”
“We’re not finished, and I did this because I needed you. If you behave here, you’ll see what happens.”
He brushed hair from her face and cupped her cheek. As she tried to rise, his hand gripped her thigh again.
“Use your legs, Vivianne.”
She stiffly moved her legs and wrapped them around him. The heat she had once felt at her fingertips pressed her down. As they adjusted, their bodies pressed closely together, clothes separating nothing.
He slowly rubbed his body against hers, fully revealing himself this time.
Vivianne recalled the sensations in the storage room, remembering her vow when leaving the Duke’s mansion. She hadn’t told her parents anything yet, and if he truly abandoned her now, she would be alone…
Embarrassment made her squirm, and he loosened the restraint slightly. She crawled to the edge of the mattress, needing to follow procedure—after all, the Rex family had sent the annulment document.
His hand grazed her waist, bringing a cold shiver against her heated skin. Before she could react, he embraced her from behind, his shadow covering her.
“…Even when I try to be gentle, you keep hiding even on the bed.”
“….”
“You tease me like this, then make me like this.”
His voice by her ear was chilling, far different from the gentleness before. Vivianne felt a spine-tingling fear unlike anything Ludovic’s intimidation had ever caused.
Not answering, she felt his arms tighten around her stomach.
“Mergover, can you see the paper over there?”
Vivianne nodded. Edmund’s low voice continued near her ear.
“You should answer.”
“Yes.”
“You still haven’t annulled the engagement?”
“….”
“Now that it’s done, it’s settled.”
“….”
“Was that just an excuse?”
Each word sounded like the whisper of a madman. She shook her head like a small prey, paralyzed.
Warmth… a pulse at her thigh. Vivianne shivered at the unfamiliar sensation. She tried to look back but was instead pulled by the neck.
He released her briefly but continued. His solid body, the rough veins on his hands brushing hers, made her body respond against her will.
Time passed in silence until his hand covered her with warmth. Vivianne glanced at the paper in the distance, realizing why Edmund had to leave the Duke’s storage. Her breath escaped in gasps.
Her lips parted, exposed to cold air, then warmed by his body. She shivered at every drop, her saliva marking the mattress.
“I think this proves how much I cherish you,” he murmured. She gripped the sheet tightly, knowing this act wasn’t only for his satisfaction.
“How does it feel? Ready to beg a little?”
Still wrapped around him, he whispered in her ear:
“Engagement annulled. Reason: doubt in fiancé’s fidelity and morality. …Hard to argue now, isn’t it?”
The boundary between predator and prey was clear. She was the warmed little prey, and he intended to devour her whole.
“Edmund.”
Vivianne staggered, clutching the last thread of reason, calling his name. She wanted to ask once more, even though her hypothesis from the study was fading. Knowing he was not the agent, she called out the agent’s code name, one last time.
She traced the prominent veins on his hand, trying to hold it.
The gestures, the manners, even the handwriting—everything was like that person.
Recalling her earlier deductions, Vivianne realized that even the Duke couldn’t confirm Edmund’s presence during the agent’s active period. Photos of her accompanying him at the hotel were sparse. And the lavish spending she had observed could only make sense if he had knowingly drawn from his own accounts. The mansion, the art—it all reflected the Count’s wealth, explaining the agent’s previous behavior.
Seeing the handwriting, piece by piece, she recalled the agent’s past injuries. If they had been a disguise, he would not have been “injured” superficially. She remembered the warmth of his cheek when she applied medicine.
Warmer than his breath now at her ear.
“Thinking this makes you feel better? That your agent is the one you had to ask for mercy from, or to accept an engagement proposal?”
“….”
“Answer me, Vivianne.”
“…Why so late, agent?”
Vivianne tried to sound composed, but a sob crept into her voice.
“Impossible to reason with you.”
A sharp pain made her focus on breathing. If he were truly the agent, he wouldn’t hurt her like this—everything felt strange, overwhelming.
“Hngh… I like you, Edmund… hngh.”
Tears blurred her words. She trembled, clutching his hands around her stomach.
“Good, I like you too.”
“Edmund… Edmund.”
“But I want to hear you say I was wrong.”
He paused, brushing his lips against her ear. Every movement made Vivianne feel him vividly. Despite all the evidence, the hope that had briefly brightened her life faded.
“Edmund, ugh.”
Her jaw trembled; she could not speak.
“You mustn’t speak carelessly. I’m showing you a point of no return.”
Their bodies intertwined completely. Vivianne held his hands, leaving no marks, for he could be the man she once cared for—the agent she had protected. She adjusted her legs to make him comfortable.
The voice at her ear remained cruel.
“…Do you feel like calling me Count now?”
“Alright… I want to see you… Edmund.”
“You’re so small, yet fearless, huh? Even though it hurts like this.”
“Edmund…”
“A clever lady, weren’t you?”
“…I like you, Edmund.”
“….”
“I like you, I like you, I like you, Edmund. I wanted to see you… how much I… how much…”
Ignoring her, Edmund removed her day dress. Being behind her, he could undress her completely.
He seized and teased her beautiful body, kissing even the faint bruises, driving his actions forward. After a while, he paused, letting the intensity fade from his eyes.
Yet he kept her frail body pressed to his, releasing a year’s worth of desire.
When she could no longer endure, he held her tightly, giving in to his lust until she weakly begged him to stop.
Only then did Vivianne stop calling him Edmund, whispering instead: “Count.”
Hearing her consent to the engagement, he stroked her thigh again. Her fair skin was soft in his hands, slick with sweat.
“Engagement, huh.”
Edmund murmured slowly.
“Was that your choice, Mergover?”
“….”
“Even if you marry someone else now, or roll with the underworld boss, your first is mine. You’ll come to me.”
Vivianne lay panting. Edmund adjusted his clothing and moved beside her.
“Just as you chose your agent, I chose you.”
“….”
“So, if you don’t like it, at least remember the face you care for.”
He let her hand touch his cheek. Her tear-streaked eyes lit up briefly. Edmund watched silently, expecting hatred or fear.
Even after he let go, Vivianne lingered, tracing his skin, feeling the rough yet vivid lines, then covering his face with her palm, letting her warmth embrace him. She kept her gaze fixed, lips moving slightly as if seeing the finest thing in the world.
“I love you.”
When she finally let go, those words left her lips.
“…I loved this face very much.”
So no matter what His Excellency does, it would be alright.
Vivianne met his gaze again, shivering, yet comforted by his expression.
