2. The Weight of Secrets
Ayla was tormented by Luke throughout the day. She ended up fainting and only awoke late into the night. Her breasts and core, which his large hands had mercilessly kneaded, were sore and aching. She had to spend a long time washing away the s€men that filled her inside.
Now even the household servants were whispering about her. The Countess who summoned the gardener to her bedroom the moment the Count disappeared—it was the perfect gossip for them to chatter about behind her back. Ayla held her spine straighter for it. With the Count gone, the master of this estate was none other than her, the Countess Soyer.
From the next day, she took her meals in her room again. She masked her gloomy face with her usual calm composure and forced down bread and soup, barely suppressing her churning stomach. It was the same type of soup Luke Blaine had fed her yesterday. The moment she saw that thick, white liquid, she thought of something she shouldn't have.
Luke's seed, poured into her until she overflowed. Bile rose in her throat. She glanced at the maid waiting before her, then gave an order, careful not to show her agitation.
"I'm done. Take it away."
"But my lady, you should eat a little more..."
"I said I'm full."
Ayla shook her head. The maid, Emilie, narrowed her eyes as she looked at her. The servants' gossip was already loud enough.
The Countess, who had always seemed quiet and fragile, had not only summoned the gardener to her bedroom, but also showed no tears over the Count's disappearance—it was bound to seem strange. Ayla noticed her gaze and shot her a cold look.
"What are you staring at? Didn't you hear me tell you to clear it?"
"Ah, I'm sorry."
Emilie quickly bowed her head and cleared the tray with the leftover food, leaving the room. As soon as she was gone, Ayla let out the breath she had been holding. Her hands were drenched in sweat from the tension. Fortunately, it seemed the Count's body hadn't been found yet.
How deeply had Luke buried the Count's body? Ayla wanted to see the spot with her own eyes. Only then would she feel at ease. She needed to confirm that no one would ever find the cold corpse.
Would Luke Blaine allow it?
Ayla caught herself mid-thought and froze. She was the master of this estate now. Why was she seeking permission from a mere gardener? She could simply order him to reveal where the Count was buried.
I can't. Not yet.
Ayla bit her lip hard. The fact that she couldn't frustrated her. The image of herself clinging to him, crying out like an animal, haunted her like a nightmare.
Who would believe the word of a mere gardener over hers? But then again, there was no need to stir up unnecessary trouble. Eventually, Luke would tire of her body. Just as the Count had clung to her for a month, after enough time passed, Luke would likely seek another woman, as men always did.
I just have to endure a little longer.
Then she would lead this estate in the Count's absence. With no heir, everything would naturally fall into her hands. After that, she planned to find some excuse to drive Luke Blaine out. She couldn't let herself be controlled by him forever.
Ayla rang a small bell. Emilie, who had been waiting outside, entered immediately. She spoke in an overly cautious tone, as if apologizing for her earlier rudeness.
"You called, my lady?"
"I need to change."
"Yes, of course."
Ayla chose a black dress that covered her neck entirely. The black made her pale skin stand out even more. Her long, disheveled hair was pulled up and coiled into a neat bun. At a glance, she looked almost ill.
After checking her reflection in the full-length mirror, Ayla dismissed Emilie. She wanted to at least maintain an appearance befitting her current position as Countess. If she wandered around in lavish attire while the Count was missing, the servants—and the people of the domain—would surely think ill of her.
It was the only useful thing she had learned from her impoverished, insignificant baronial family. Knowing how to read a room and gauge others' moods—she never imagined it would prove helpful in such a situation. Ayla stood before the mirror, repeating her resolve.
I don't want to go back to that hell.
The face of her monstrous father, who would strike her at any moment—so much so that she was ashamed to even call herself a noble—flashed before her eyes. After her mother died of illness, her father's violence only grew worse. Her younger brother, the sole heir, was treated with some decency, but Ayla was not.
If she were cast out of the Count's estate, there was only one place she could return to. That place. Or prison. Either way, the outcome was equally horrific. Ayla barely managed to calm her trembling body.
Today, she hoped Luke Blaine wouldn't come to her room. She didn't want to be tossed about by his hands, thrashing in that terrible pleasure. But she acknowledged how unrealistic and foolish that hope was.
He would come again today, without fail. Ayla sat on the luxurious sofa, closing her eyes with a heavy heart.
---
By afternoon, it had begun to rain again. The news that an unexpected visitor had arrived through the downpour made Ayla's heart sink.
"An inspector, you said?"
"Yes, my lady. He said he's here regarding the Count."
"I see. I understand."
Ayla barely managed to rise and made her way to the drawing room. Emilie quickly followed behind her.
An inspector?
Ayla rubbed her pale face several times. She had to steady herself against the wall as she walked down the corridor. Before entering the drawing room, she took several deep breaths. Emilie watched her strangely before opening the door.
A man sat on the sofa with his back to the door. The door clicked shut. Ayla steadied her voice and spoke.
"I heard you were looking for me."
A man with neatly combed black hair, similar to Ayla's, rose as if he had been waiting. From behind, she hadn't noticed, but he was quite tall and seemed solidly built. He met her eyes and spoke politely.
"Good day, my lady. I'm Inspector Eric Brisen. I'd like to speak with you regarding the disappearance of Count Soyer."
Ayla swallowed and took a seat across from Eric. She naturally lowered her gaze. Eric pulled out a small notebook and a quill from his coat pocket and asked again.
"We received a report that Count Soyer has suddenly disappeared. Were you aware of this?"
"...No, I wasn't."
Who had reported it? Ayla thought of Luke. It can't be him, surely. She stared at the teacup on the round table. Eric asked again.
"Why haven't you reported it yet, my lady?"
Her head spun. Ayla lifted the teacup to wet her dry throat before answering.
"He often... leaves the estate for days at a time. I couldn't just assume he was missing. And besides, who made the report in the first place..."
"But now that a report has been filed, we must investigate, my lady."
Eric cut her off firmly. Ayla clasped her trembling fingertips together. Only then did she meet his gaze. He was a rather handsome man. Though he seemed somewhat strict, his neatly combed hair and gentle eyes were appealing.
"When was the last time you saw the Count?"
Eric noted something in his book before asking again. Ayla hesitated for a moment. She had to think carefully about when to say to avoid suspicion. Feigning recollection, she answered as slowly as possible.
"Until the morning of the rainy day, I was alone with the Count."
"Where, may I ask?"
"...In my bedroom."
Ayla murmured in a barely audible voice. Eric reflexively closed his mouth, looking uncomfortable.
"I apologize for intruding on such a private matter."
"It's quite alright. You're just doing your job."
Ayla glanced at the clock. Evening was approaching. Soon, Luke would finish his work and come to her room with dinner. The moment she became aware of that, her core grew hot. Ayla pressed her red lips together tightly.
Eric seemed to ponder something for a long moment before speaking quietly.
"May I speak with the servants before I leave?"
"...Yes, of course."
Ayla answered, meeting Eric's eyes directly. She didn't want to give any unnecessary openings. Eric looked at her for a moment, then rose.
"Thank you for your time, my lady."
His tone was endlessly polite. Ayla only nodded. Eric opened the door and gestured for her to go first. As she nodded in acknowledgment, a familiar figure appeared at the end of the hall. Luke Blaine. The moment their eyes met, Ayla's shoulders stiffened.
"My lady, it's time for your meal."
Luke smiled and greeted her. Eric, who had been closing the door behind him, noticed him and asked.
"Is this one of the household servants?"
"He's the gardener."
Ayla spoke first, afraid Luke might say something reckless.
"The gardener wasn't at the estate that day. I had sent him out on an errand."
"...I see."
Eric stared at Luke for a moment before backing down. Ayla, who had been anxious that he might try to speak with Luke, finally let her stiff shoulders relax.
"Then, I'll see you again."
Eric gave a slight bow and disappeared down the opposite corridor. Ayla quickly brushed past Luke. He followed her like a shadow. The sound of their footsteps echoed loudly in the hallway.
Ayla walked quickly, entering her bedroom. The moment the door closed, Luke grabbed her arm and pulled her toward him. Ayla almost screamed but barely managed to stifle it.
"You were practically drooling, my lady."
Luke pressed his body against hers, teasing her nipple. His hot breath scattered over her slender neck. Ayla shook her head, looking as if she might collapse at any moment.
"That's not... true."
"You were staring at him like you wanted to be impaled on his co¢k right then and there. Are you disappointed he didn't take you in his arms? Hmm?"
Luke whispered in a low voice. Ayla's face, barely holding herself up, turned deathly pale. His hand had already moved past her chest, rubbing her lower belly. A fiery heat surged to the top of her head in an instant.
"Ngh, don't..."
Ayla twisted her body, but Luke held her firmly, only provoking him further. His hands roamed her waist and belly as he pleased, then he lifted her dress and began rubbing her over her undergarments. She was already wet. The corner of his mouth curved upward.
"Did you get wet looking at the inspector? How lewd."
"N-no...! Nngh!"
Ayla gasped at his touch. Luke didn't hesitate, stripping off her undergarments and whispering in her ear.
"Black really does suit you, Ayla."
---
Spring was passing. The afternoon rain soaked the muddy earth and awakened the garden. Droplets slid down the blue-green leaves. Ayla, lying face down on the bed, let out shallow moans as she gazed at the garden through the gap in the open curtains.
Outside was already a blue-tinged dawn, yet Luke didn't stop. From evening until now, he had tormented and embraced Ayla relentlessly, uttering crude words. Ayla wanted to run to the garden and wash out her ears with the falling rain.
Yet contrary to her thoughts, her body only grew hotter, releasing sharp moans. Luke, who had been clinging behind her and rubbing her nipples, thrust his member into her again. Ayla arched her back and cried out.
"Nngh, hah...!"
Luke laughed in a low, raspy voice. His laughter made Ayla feel shame. But soon, as he moved roughly, the only sounds coming from her dry lips were moans and sobs.
"Hnngh, hah... ahhn... hah!"
Ayla's frail body swayed with Luke's movements. Her mind, dizzy with pleasure, spun. Moans escaped her unintendedly, and her wet folds clenched and pulled his member deeper. After thrusting relentlessly, Luke moved his hips slowly and whispered.
"Did the Count ever hold you like this? Or did he treat you like a street whore?"
"N-no! Hnngh...!"
Luke's firm hand pressed Ayla's head down onto the bed. She tilted her head to the side to catch her breath, gasping. Luke, who had been moving slowly as if savoring her, thrust into her hard. Ayla clawed at the bedsheet, writhing.
"Did he treat you like a princess? Did he whisper sweet words with every thrust?"
"St-stop... it!"
Ayla sobbed. The sensation of his thick, heavy member leisurely piercing her was vivid. His shaft scraped against her inner walls as it withdrew, then plunged back in, over and over. Ayla swallowed her fractured cries. Luke grabbed her hair roughly.
"Do you get off hearing this? You're clenching so tight."
"N-no... ahhn!"
"Don't lie, you are."
Luke muttered darkly, his brow furrowing. Her hot inner walls clenched around him. He began to move his hips swiftly again, abandoning his leisurely teasing. As climax approached, Ayla's moans grew closer to weeping.
"Hnngh... h-hah! Nnngh...!"
"Hah, ngh..."
Luke let out a short groan and emptied himself deep inside her. Ayla felt her mind bleach white as her whole body stiffened, then collapsed. Luke, who had been pressing down on her, withdrew with a hot sigh. He didn't linger in the afterglow, instead picking up his discarded clothes and dressing.
Ayla watched him nervously, afraid he might come for her again. Fortunately, Luke seemed ready to leave. Ayla pressed her pounding chest and quickly covered herself with the blanket. The ordeal that had lasted from evening until now was finally over.
The Ayla who had been crying out in pleasure moments before was gone, replaced by one covered in resentment and hatred. She hid her shamefully marked body beneath the thick blanket, but it couldn't hide her wounds.
"Why... why are you doing this?"
Ayla glared at Luke with a face ready to cry at any moment. Luke, who had been buttoning his shirt, looked at her with chillingly cold eyes. His lips twisted.
"Who knows. Do I need a reason to fu¢k you?"
Ayla bit her lip hard. His humiliating words made her whole body burn, and she wanted to hide somewhere, but she barely held herself upright, clutching the blanket tightly. Luke looked at her for a moment in silence, then left.
Bang. The door closed, and Ayla burst into tears, hugging her knees. The sound of rain against the window muffled her sorrowful sobs.
How had things come to this? The regret that perhaps she wouldn't be suffering this way if she had just stayed still beneath the Count—that regret surged over her. She even thought that perhaps death would be better, but she stopped herself.
No. If I die, Luke Blaine will report my crime, and everyone will believe I killed the Count.
She was a noble, even if from an insignificant house. She couldn't end her life in such disgrace. She pulled her lower body slightly inward and wiped her tears.
There's no other way.
Yes, for now, she had no choice but to do as Luke wished and wait for him to tire of her. She lamented her situation, forced to bet on such an impossible odds. By then, the red sun of morning was rising.
---
In the end, Ayla couldn't sleep a wink. Despair lingered on her exhausted face. She dressed in black again today. The servants had begun whispering for a different reason.
The Countess in black, when the Count wasn't even dead yet—it was no different from her hoping he would never return. Emilie, who watched Ayla closest, also harbored such suspicions.
"Um, my lady."
Emilie, attending to her meal, spoke cautiously. Ayla's hand, barely lifting a spoonful of soup, paused in midair. She set the spoon back down and turned her gaze to Emilie.
"Speak."
"You met with the inspector, didn't you?"
"Yes."
Emilie paused for a moment, then continued, her eyes fixed on the floor.
"He's... looking for the Count, I heard?"
"That's none of your concern."
Ayla's fine brows furrowed. Emilie flinched and stammered.
"I-I'm sorry. It's just that strange rumors keep circulating..."
"Rumors?"
Ayla's fingers twitched at the word. What rumors now? That the gardener killed the Count? Or that the Countess did? A flood of terrible imaginations crossed Ayla's mind. Emilie watched her again before speaking.
"Rumors that the Count... might be dead..."
"Nonsense."
Ayla cut her off before she could finish. She picked up the neatly folded napkin and wiped her lips, which were untouched by food.
"The Count is not the kind of man to die. You know that very well. Anyone who believes such rumors might as well be the one who harmed him."
Ayla tried to keep her face composed, holding back her trembling. Emilie continued to steal glances at her. As a member of the Count's household, she might have strong loyalty to him. Or maybe...
"Why do you keep concerning yourself with the Count's affairs? Don't you think you're being too forward?"
"Th-that's not it..."
Emilie's face flushed red. Ayla nearly laughed out loud. The Count was a man who pursued women regardless of status, anyone in a skirt. It seemed Emilie had also found herself in that reeking embrace.
He probably whispered that he'd make her his mistress, if she'd just wait.
It was such a predictable story. A nobleman whispers sweet promises he'll never keep, spends the night, and by the next day, he's had the maid whipped and sent away. Ayla set down her napkin.
"I'm done. Clear it."
"Yes, ma'am."
Emilie, pale as if caught out, quickly took the tray and left. Ayla watched her hunched back until she disappeared, then pulled the blanket up to her neck. Her heart raced. She lay down, hoping to catch some rest, when someone knocked on the door.
Ayla's body stiffened. The fear that Luke had returned.
"My lady, Inspector Eric Brisen is here to see you."
Emilie announced the visitor. Ayla exhaled in relief, then tensed again. The inspector, back after only a day. She was gripped by an uncontrollable unease. But she couldn't refuse to see him.
"My lady?"
Emilie's voice came again. After biting her lips for a long moment, Ayla straightened her clothes with trembling hands and headed to the drawing room. Eric sat in the same posture as yesterday, in the same uniform. He rose as she entered.
"I apologize for coming so early in the morning, my lady."
"Not at all. What brings you here..."
Ayla asked cautiously, taking her seat across from him. She clasped her cold, trembling hands together on her lap. Eric paused for a moment, then slowly continued.
"A body has been found, believed to be Count Soyer."
"...What?"
Ayla's eyes flew wide open. Her heartbeat pounded so loudly she could hear it in her ears. She gripped her clasped hands so hard they lost circulation. How? Why? Seeing Ayla completely dazed, Eric looked uneasy. He added with concern.
"Yes, it seems the river swelled from last night's rain, and the body surfaced. However..."
Eric paused. Ayla wanted to grab his arm and scream at him to go on, but she could barely hold up her violently trembling body. She could almost hear Luke's mocking laughter somewhere.
He lied to me. He lied.
Luke Blaine must have been planning to betray her. With the body found, they would have to determine the cause of death, and then they would find the wounds left from when she killed him. Tears dripped from her face, which looked as if the sky itself had fallen.
"Please calm yourself, my lady. The body has not yet been positively identified as Count Soyer. At this point, it's only been determined that the build and hair are similar."
Eric seemed to interpret her reaction as the grief of a wife who had lost her husband. Ayla, brought back to her senses by his low voice, nodded.
"Yes... I understand. Please, go on."
"I apologize, but it appears to be a homicide."
Ayla involuntarily shot up from her seat. She wanted to run away from this place. To run outside and hide somewhere, anywhere. But before she could take a step, her legs gave out. She swayed heavily, and Eric caught her, startled.
"Are you alright? My lady?"
Ayla's entire body shook like an aspen. She looked up at Eric's face, holding her steady, and then her consciousness faded.
***
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