Episode 13 – Before the Storm Hits
Solra’s heart was pounding like crazy.
He knew this was the part of the story where the infamous villainess (the Duchess) would start doubting his gender and try to strip him.
He didn’t remember every detail of the scene or the exact lines, but he clearly recalled this much: just before he was forcibly undressed, the Duke would appear and save him.
And at that moment, the male lead would also show the first cracks in his cold heart.
“Yeah… that’s how it was supposed to go.”
That meant—if he didn’t obey the Duchess’s command to take off his clothes, she’d end up tearing them off by force.
Grabbing the front of his shirt with both fists, Solra shouted:
“No!”
The Duchess’s voice was cold:
“It’ll be less humiliating if you do it yourself rather than have it done for you.”
Solra fired back, his voice shaking but defiant:
“Are you really the Duchess? Ordering a young page like me to do something like this?”
He wasn’t sure if those exact words were in the original story, but it felt like the kind of thing that would really get under the villainess’s skin.
Taking a few steps back, Solra gripped his shirt tighter.
His secret couldn’t come out now.
The first person who discovered he was actually a woman had to be the male lead—the Duke.
The Duchess narrowed her eyes.
“Truly insolent.”
At her finger’s command, the maids lunged forward and grabbed Solra by both arms.
He kicked and twisted, but there was no escape.
“The Duke should be arriving any moment now!” he thought desperately.
But instead, he was thrown onto the floor, his arms pinned down.
The head maid pressed a knee into his arm and started unbuttoning his shirt.
“Please stop, Madam!” Solra screamed, thrashing his body as hard as he could.
All he needed to do was hold out until the Duke came to save him.
He managed to twist enough that the maid couldn’t get the buttons undone, so she ordered the others to turn his body back over.
Solra almost thought about biting their hands to make them let go when—
“What on earth are you doing?!”
The study door slammed open. Lady Roze appeared.
Solra froze.
It wasn’t the Duke who had come—it was her.
He felt like the world had just slapped him across the face.
Fine, I get it, Violetta thought.
Nobody wants to cooperate when they’re being forced to strip.
But the way this page is fighting me off isn’t just shame—it feels like something more.
“I asked what you’re doing.”
Lady Roze’s voice cut through the room like a blade.
She stared at Violetta (the Duchess) with sharp, accusing eyes.
Violetta stayed perfectly calm and didn’t answer.
Even if she said she was only trying to check if Morant (Solra) was a woman, Roze would twist it and paint her as some crazy noblewoman abusing her servant.
Silence was better than saying something that could sound like an excuse.
The maids froze, hands still clutching Solra, uncertain what to do.
Violetta finally pointed at Solra, who was on the floor, sobbing.
“Keep going.”
“How could the Duchess of this house—oh my heavens!” Roze gasped, horrified.
The maids faltered even more.
Annoyed, Violetta grabbed Solra by the shoulder and spun him around herself.
“Y-you—oh my!” Roze stuttered, face drained of color. She looked ready to run off and call the Duke.
So Violetta simply ripped open the last few buttons.
Solra cried out, trying to cover himself, but it was too late.
Beneath the loose shirt was a bandage tightly wound around his chest.
It wasn’t perfect—his chest still pressed together enough to form the faint line of cleavage.
“Explain yourself, Morant. Why are you wearing this bandage?”
Violetta demanded, looming over him.
Shaking, Solra stammered, “I-I… I’m hurt… it’s for an injury…”
Roze stepped closer, staring at the bandages. Her jaw dropped.
“Good heavens… what is this?”
Solra only cried harder, saying nothing.
The sight infuriated Violetta.
So… this page thought he could fool the Stroud household? Did he think we’re that easy to trick?
Her hand trembled with anger as she glared down at him.
“Give me a blade.”
The head maid quickly handed her a dagger.
Violetta pressed it forward, intending to cut off the bandages completely and expose the truth.
Solra screamed and struggled frantically—
Then a voice thundered:
“Everyone, stand down!”
The Duke, Ryan Stroud, had entered.
The entire room froze.
Violetta didn’t move, still straddling Solra on the floor, but she met her husband’s eyes with icy calm.
“I said stand down, Violetta.”
Solra’s sobbing grew louder, almost hysterical, thinking his savior had finally come.
The Duke’s face was twisted with fury.
He marched forward, struck Violetta’s arm aside, and shoved her away.
She fell to the floor.
Then he helped Solra up. The boy’s legs gave out, and he collapsed weakly against the Duke’s chest.
“You’re all dismissed.”
The maids who had taken part in the stripping paled, trembling.
Violetta rose and snapped back coldly:
“Managing servants is the mistress’s duty.”
The maids looked between them nervously, not daring to breathe.
Ryan glared at his wife like she was poison.
Holding Solra protectively, he asked, “Was it so unbearable to let me keep a page by my side?”
His voice shook with rage.
“You’re suffocating, Violetta. Truly suffocating. Just looking at you makes me feel like I can’t breathe.”
Violetta stared at him in stunned silence.
He walked out, clutching Solra tightly to his chest.
She could only watch his back disappear from sight, unease clawing at her.
She had revealed the fraud, and yet… something still felt wrong.
Solra buried her face against the Duke’s chest as he carried her to his office, wiping her tears on his shirt.
Her thoughts were a tangled mess.
No… this isn’t how it was supposed to happen.
The Duke was supposed to be the first to discover I’m a woman.
The Duchess wasn’t supposed to find out first!
Even worse, Roze had appeared out of nowhere, completely changing the sequence of events.
Now, Solra had no choice.
Once they reached the Duke’s office, she would have to confess.
It wasn’t what she wanted—it wasn’t what the story originally said—but there was no turning back.
The Duke’s voice rumbled above her head.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Solra looked up, eyes wide. He was staring right at her.
“You had plenty of chances to say you were a woman.”
Solra’s voice cracked.
“I… I had to. For my little sister. I needed to earn as much money as I could.”
She dropped her gaze again, clutching the loosened bandages at her chest, and pressed her face into his shirt.
She could hear his heartbeat—steady, strong, unshakable.
And despite everything, that sound made her tremble with nervous excitement.
At least this much was still like the story: the Duke carrying her away, holding her close, heart pounding, as if they were heading toward something inevitable.
Her mind wandered—soon, in his office, it would be just the two of them.
Maybe he’d finally give in to those repressed emotions and claim her lips like in the scene she’d loved so much before.
She dared a glance up at him.
His deep blue eyes looked endless, like the sky itself.
Eyes that promised a love that could last forever.
Later, when the maids finally entered the Duke’s study, they were stunned into silence.
Everyone already knew the rumors: Morant was actually a woman, and the Duke had taken her away.
Now the office was a mess—papers scattered, quills broken, a shirt and torn bandages on the floor, and an atmosphere far too intimate for a workplace.
The maids quietly cleaned, whispering nothing, but their faces said everything.
It was the silence before the storm.
And that night, on Violetta’s balcony, lay the gift box she had refused earlier.
It was empty, but it wasn’t really the box that mattered—it was the reminder of who was now beside her husband.
She held the box tightly and cried until dawn.
