Chapter 15. The Attendant Servant
âYes. Iâll take my leave.â
Only then did Klein stagger to his feet. As he turned his head slightly, he glanced at Hugray.
âHa, seriously. What kind of state are you in? Can you even see like that? Why not just take off your glasses?â
Now he could guess why Klein had been fussing with his hair so much.
As usual, Klein was wearing thick glasses that covered nearly half his face, the kind that made him look stifled. But now the lenses were fogged over, so clouded that it was questionable whether he could see anything at all through them.
âN-no, itâs fine. I can see.â
Even as he said that, Klein raised his arm and wiped his glasses.
âYou look like an idiot.â
Wiping the lenses with his damp forearm only made things worseâthe glasses became slick with moisture and completely smeared.
Realizing they were now stained with water, Klein lifted his upper arm all the way up to his face and rubbed the lenses again.
He looked utterly foolish. Was there anyone else who would clean their glasses like thatâwithout even taking them offâbesides Klein Riden?
Still wearing the ruined glasses, Klein staggered out of the bathroom.
Everything looked strange.
Everything.
His overly hurried footsteps.
The pathetic, clumsy way he had wiped his glasses.
Even the fact that his backside was soaked from slipping on the wet bathroom floor.
And those calves, running offâtoo smooth, too slender, and far too pale.
But strangest of all was the change in the air.
Only after Klein disappeared from the bathroom did Hugray finally feel like he could breathe properly.
While that guy had been inside, his scent had been so overwhelmingly strong that Hugray had been holding his breath, only sneaking in shallow breaths when he reached his limit.
Even if someone were seeing a woman with the same scent⌠could it really be that strong?
It wasnât even right after meeting her.
Ah⌠could it really be�
The possibility he wanted to deny kept raising its head as if it were the truth.
It was strange that someone else would have the exact same scent⌠but no matter how he thought about it, that scent seemed to belong to Klein Riden himself.
Not something he had picked up elsewhereâbut something he was emitting.
A scent so sweet it was maddening. So intoxicating it made him want to drink it in.
Dangerous. This is really dangerous.
He decided he needed to send word to Joyce to speed up the investigation.
He had to find the woman quickly.
At this rate, he might end up imprinting on that attendant servant.
Of course, that was absurd. A wolf that had already imprinted, imprinting againâand on someone of the same sex, no less.
But his current physical condition was just as absurd.
It wasnât just his sense of smellâhis entire body was reacting to that guy, Klein Riden.
He needed to find the one he had imprinted on. As soon as possible.
Returning to her room, Chloe stood there blankly, like a person who had lost her soul. She needed to change out of her soaked clothes, but she didnât even have the presence of mind to do so.
The image she had just seen kept floating in front of her eyes.
So thatâs what it was.
That.
That night, she had been tormented in the dark room until dawn. But because she had fled while the early morning dimness still filled the room, it was the first time she had truly seen it clearly.
Duke Hugray Wolfaz.
She had known he was perfect and imposing, but⌠did he really have to be that perfect and overwhelming down to every last detail?
Even a brief glance at his completely naked bodyârising boldlyâwas enough to leave one speechless. It was harmoniously proportioned, almost beautiful.
But the moment her gaze landed on what stood out at the very center, the overall image vanished from her mind.
Only one thing remained.
That⌠muchâŚ
No. Donât think about it. No recalling!
Chloe shook her head violently, trying to edit and delete the image from her mind.
But once a memory takes root, it stubbornly refuses to disappear.
Still⌠it didnât seem possible.
The more she tried to shake off the image, the more it brought a chain of questions with it.
I mean⌠that⌠and then⌠but how was that even possible?
She found it hard to believe all over again that she had done that with the Duke.
But it had definitely happened. If it had been a dream, her body wouldnât have ached like that for days afterward. The aftermath itself was proof it was real.
So thatâs why.
Only now did she understand why her body had felt like it had been beaten up for days after that night.
With that realization, the faint guilt she had felt toward the Duke began to fade away like mist.
No woman could possibly handle a man like that.
Maybe the reason he had avoided women so muchâenough to earn rumors that he was impotentâwas because he himself knew his condition and had a shred of conscience.
Honestly, did Sir Joyce even know what he was talking about when he got angry about âthe womanâ? Did he know what his lord was actually like?
At that level, hadnât she practically sacrificed herself for the Duke?
Thinking this far, Chloe even set a mental deadline.
The day either Sir Joyce or the information guild brought back results, she would leave the estate immediately.
The Duke had no right to keep her as an attendant servant based on baseless threats.
Until now, she had stayed out of guilt for deceiving himâand fear of being found out.
But now, regardless of what results they broughtâeven if it was revealed that she really was that womanâher desire to leave this place outweighed any fear of what would happen after.
If her disguise as a man was exposed, she would take responsibility for that.
But even if she had been the one to initiate things that night⌠afterward, there was no way she alone could have handled a man like that.
No. Impossible. Absolutely impossible.
So it wasnât entirely her responsibility, right?
Still shaken from what she had seen while attending his bath, Chloe finished rationalizing things to herself.
It wasnât something she alone had to bearâthe result of a mutually agreed night between two adults.
Waking up a full hour earlier than usual, Chloe rubbed her sleepy eyes as she prepared washing water and carried it to the Dukeâs bedroom, grumbling under her breath.
Things had changed too much.
Ever since making her attend his bath, the Duke had begun working her relentlesslyâhardly the same man who used to leave his attendant servant alone.
From preparing his clothes in advance, to helping him dress, to even assisting with meals he had always eaten alone.
Even during training at the practice grounds, she had to stay right by his sideâready to hand him water the moment he was thirsty, or a towel the moment he began to sweat.
Still, she couldnât exactly complain. This was, after all, what attendant servants normally did.
It was just that she had been living an absurdly easy life until now.
Well⌠aside from the fact that he had added tasks no ordinary attendant would do.
As if he couldnât stand seeing her idle, the Duke even made her translate books written in Tigris into the Empireâs language, Elayion.
Any spare time between attending him had to be spent on translation work.
Since she had been hired for her Tigris language skills, she couldnât refuseâand besides, he was offering extra pay for it.
In any case, from the moment he woke up, the Duke called for her constantly, forcing her to change not only her waking time but even her meal schedule.
Just wait until Sir Joyce arrives. Iâm leaving that very day!
Grinding her teeth, she entered with the prepared washing water.
The Duke was lounging on the bed, reading something leisurely.
Must be nice.
âYour Grace, the water is ready.â
Without replying, he merely nodded slightly, not taking his eyes off the paper.
Chloe could only wait.
Yesterday, she had been scolded for leaving to fetch clothes without holding a towel ready.
After all, handing over a towel when the master finishes washing was part of an attendantâs duties.
She had even heard that some attendants washed their masterâs face themselves.
Compared to that, her situation wasnât so bad.
The problem was that a master who had never cared about such things had suddenly changed.
It seemed he intended to keep tormenting her like this until that woman appeared.
Even though that woman would never be found.
Still, whatever. She just had to endure until Sir Joyce returned.
âGo bring my clothes.â
The Dukeâs voice cut through her thoughts.
Before she knew it, he had gotten off the bed and approached her.
âI need to hand you the towelâŚâ
âI have hands too. Iâll do it myself. Just go get the clothes.â
Oh really? And where was this attitude yesterday when he scolded her?
Grumbling inwardly, Chloe headed to his dressing room.
What should she bring?
The Duke didnât care much for elaborate outfits, preferring simple, clean styles.
Probably because his appearance alone was already striking enough to make anything look good.
She picked out one of his usual plain outfits and returned.
By then, he had already finished washing and was unbuttoning his sleepwear.
