Chapter 8: Isabel (1)

Three signals for love.

Telling me you love me.

Kissing me gently.

And treating me warmly.

Perhaps these signals, straight out of a romance guide or ladies’ gossip sessions, were just fantasies? Weren’t all wives, enduring the same beatings and the same miserable treatment from their husbands, just putting on airs at tea parties to save face?

This was a worry I’d always had, ever since the first time my husband slapped my cheek. He was interested in my appearance, but seemed to have no interest in me as a person. He paid more attention to my chest than the wounds on my face, and spent more time demanding I spread my thighs or asking what my family could do for him, rather than whispering sweet nothings.

It had been a very long time since my family had contacted me. This was because the man my eldest sister married was a relative of a hero. A disgraced official, retired due to bribery, was less valuable than a hero’s relative. The letters they occasionally sent stopped, and the monthly living expenses they used to provide were cut off.

When the money runs out, people become even more violent. Believing he had no more strings to pull, he started spending his time beating me, raping me, going out drinking. Sometimes, my face would be bruised. He would hit me with his belt, and throw punches at the slightest provocation.

Every time I was beaten, I would recall memories from when I was called ‘Young Lady’.

[You’re such a beautiful young lady, you’ll surely meet a good man.]

Lies.

[They say he’s a promising official in the capital. He’ll treat you well, and even though he’s a bit older, they said he’s a good man.]

Lies.

It was all lies. Even when I married a man much older than me, I told myself it was for the family. When he hit me, I endured it for the sake of the family. Believing someone would save me someday.

[You’re truly beautiful, Young Lady! Oh, I’m so envious. I wish I could marry into a family like that too!]

Lies.

I really tried my best. I suppressed my anger, believing a better day would surely come. But ever since I was relegated to the countryside and faced the reality that my family had abandoned me, nothing stirred within my heart. Perhaps I had given up. Maybe I had prematurely concluded that there were no heart-pounding love stories in the world.

In the end, wasn’t everything just someone else’s business? Even if the hero saved the world, or the Demon King died, or I prayed to God, nothing changed. All the glory belonged to others, while misfortune was always by my side.

And then, Evan appeared before me.

Evan. A gentle child with messy brown hair and blinking blue eyes. Seeing him reminded me of a lamb. A docile lamb that would just keep grazing, even if you stroked its head. A slave, just like me, who was his stress relief doll, and was beaten even more harshly than I was.

I felt sorry that Evan took the beatings for me, yet secretly felt relieved. After all, wasn’t that kind of misfortune also someone else’s problem? Being happy for someone else’s happiness doesn’t make me happy, but getting involved in someone else’s misfortune makes me unhappy too. Perhaps that’s why I deliberately ignored Evan so thoroughly.

If I told him not to hit Evan, he’d hit me. If I got caught giving Evan something, he’d hit me again, accusing me of having an affair with a slave.

I never thought Evan was pathetic. Because his life, like mine, was equally miserable.

Do you know the term ‘miserable life’? My life was completely dictated by him, making it no different from a miserable slave’s. What difference was there between Evan’s life, clinging to the bottom of this mansion to beg for daily sustenance while being beaten, and my own life, where I ignored everything, telling myself that the life of a beaten lady of the house was better than being a beggar on the streets? We were equally miserable humans, equally destined to die bound by the cycle of misfortune.

One day, when he decided to wield a sharper weapon, or wanted to try more sadistic acts, or perhaps if he was in a particularly bad mood and I happened to fall near the corner of a desk, I would die. I had only ever imagined life after death, never life after liberation.

That child.

Until Evan kissed me and whispered of life.

I was nothing but a corpse.

“I’ll protect you.”

So that day. The day everything changed, I encountered the three signals of love for the first time. A voice whispering that he would protect me. The gentle movements of his tongue as he kissed me. And the look in his eyes hinting at love.

My heart pounded. Evan kept injecting me with the lewd things I had despised. He touched my breasts, intertwined his tongue deep in my mouth, and tapped my sensitive spots with his fingers. It was an utterly vulgar affair, but I liked it.

Whenever Evan kissed me, my husband always fell asleep as if hypnotized. The three bothersome and noisy servants fell silent as if dead. Ever since Evan started using his strange powers, a truly serene peace had descended upon the mansion.

My husband sleeping regularly, and kissing a slave right before his eyes. The situation, stimulating enough to make one wet just reading it, continued to confuse me. His hands, which had been caressing my breasts, soon grabbed my buttocks, and then pressed against my thighs with his knees or traced them with his fingers, constantly making me restless.

At some point, I realized that a single kiss was no longer enough. I wanted something deeper and hotter. I craved more vulgar and lewd acts. I wanted him to heat and stir my lower body. I wanted him to hold me anew in the very place he had assaulted me, and make me Evan’s woman.

It didn’t matter that he was a slave. The stigma of being a slave didn’t suit the person who saved me. From the moment I entered this mansion, my life had been as good as dead. If he breathed new life into such a life of mine, wouldn’t it be right for me to dedicate everything I have to him?

The reason I hadn’t actively pursued Evan until now was because of Elena. Elena. A kind girl who always prayed that I wouldn’t lose my dignity as a noble lady. A frail child who always devoted herself to me, but ultimately couldn’t prevent his violence. I didn’t want to show her myself having sex with a slave. Because she was a proper maid from a noble family. When she realized that the person she had maintained as a noble lady until now had fallen irredeemably, how despairing would she be?

I didn’t want to see Elena sad. I didn’t want that virtuous child to experience even greater shock than this.

Yes.

I didn’t.

One quiet day at the mansion. Until I, searching for the lovely Elena, encountered her through the bathroom door. I had believed that she had truly lived a chaste and steadfast life for my sake.

Now, I sat in my room, rocking the chair as I recalled that time. It was probably not long after lunch. Wanting some tea, I searched everywhere Elena might be, from her room to the kitchen. Finding her nowhere in the mansion, the last place I arrived at was the bathroom.

Splash, splash, splash.

Hearing the splashing sounds from the bathroom, I called her name.

“Elena.”

“Euhit! Ah, sst…! M-Ma’am?”

Elena. You pretended nothing was wrong then, but I saw your neatly folded clothes on the bathroom floor, and Evan’s clothes carelessly tossed beside them. You, who pretended to be so noble and to protect the family, were ultimately just a lewd woman who slept around with men. Your efforts to maintain your nobility by keeping your distance from the slave were also just an act. While I was agonizing over nobility and chastity as a noblewoman, you were enjoying yourself with Evan behind a mask. So, I think I was a little bit annoyed.

“Elena. What are you doing?”

“Ah…! Th-That is……! Sst…! I-I was cleaning……! Ah…! Oh…!”

“Oh, you were cleaning. You must be busy, shall I help you too?”

I grabbed the doorknob then, but I had no intention of opening the door. But perhaps you were afraid I would actually open it, because you splashed loudly.

“Ah, no! Ma’am! Ah, ng…! Hhng…!”

Hearing those whimpers, those moans, did you really think I wouldn’t notice?

“Alright. I understand. Then I’ll be going.”

I only said that and didn’t move. But you must have truly thought I had left, because you relaxed and started having sex with Evan.

“Ah! Ngg! Hhht! Haang! Ang!”

Splash, splash, the spray of water echoed.

“If Ma’am hears, ah…! What will we do…! Hhng…! At…!”

Splash, splash

“You like it too, that’s why you’re squeezing so tight.”

Splash, splash

“Ah! Aah! D-Don’t stab there…!”

Splash, splash

“Ah……! Aaaaaah! Aaaaaaaaaa……!”

The sound of sinking into the water, gurgle. Blushing, I suppressed the urge to open the bathroom door.

And now, I sat in my room, rocking the chair, indulging in lewd thoughts. This time, when Elena left the mansion to shop at the market, and Evan stayed behind with me to guard the estate. I was devising a plan that could only be executed during this time. I wanted to cross the line like Elena, and fall into pleasure. I wanted to be held by the person I loved most and taste happiness.

So, I opened the door and called Evan’s name.

“Evan.”

Evan, as if knowing what I was going to say, came down from downstairs with a smirk. Blushing, I said in a haughty tone:

“Come up to my room.”