PMBA | Chapter 7

‘I thought it would be quite possible.’

If Lexion refused, she planned to drug him.

In fact, Kyrie had already amassed more than a handful of such sedatives. The people at the ducal residence had long ago learned that it was faster and easier to stuff sedatives down her throat than to try and reason with her.

She had pretended to swallow them and pocketed a few, storing them inside her mother’s pendant necklace. Because one never knew when or how they might come in handy.

If the sleeping Crown Prince didn’t come out, the suspicious Emperor would barge into the bedroom himself, bringing the nobles with him. And they would witness her lying naked next to the Crown Prince.

That was precisely what Kyrie wanted.

‘He won’t be able to deny it with everyone watching.’

Kyrie intended to claim that she and Lexion had slept together, regardless of what actually happened.

With that in mind, she snuck into the Crown Prince’s Palace while everyone’s attention was focused on the banquet hall and drugged the attendants’ drinks.

And as soon as they fell asleep, she entered the bedroom, undressed, and sat on the bed. Waiting for Lexion to stumble in, drunk, and fall into the trap she had set.

However, she hadn’t anticipated this at all.

That a large, sturdy man smelling of gunpowder, neither Lexion nor the guards protecting the Crown Prince’s Palace, would bind her.

‘What’s going on?’

Even as she caught her breath to grasp the situation, her heart pounded, sending blood rushing through her body. She could feel the steady pulse in the thick, large arm, powerful enough to snap her slender neck like a twig in an instant.

A calm, steady pulse that showed no surprise at finding her here. A pulse that felt almost inhuman because of its very calmness.

“…”

The moment she instinctively swallowed, feeling the pressure constricting her throat—

“Who are you?”

The chillingly low, yet intimate voice echoed unusually loud in the silence. The voice, settling in her ears, raised goosebumps on the back of her neck.

‘I’ve never heard that voice before.’

She had never heard such a low, beautiful voice, neither in the Imperial Palace nor in high society. It was a voice one would remember anywhere after hearing it once.

‘He’s not from the capital’s social circles?’

‘Are you talking about Dominique Roman Haswell, the First Duke?’

‘I heard he came to the capital recently…’

‘No way.’

Just as Kyrie instinctively arrived at the answer, the man uttered words she hadn’t anticipated at all.

“Mad Dog?”

‘What?’

The moment she heard those words, Kyrie couldn’t help but turn her head in bewilderment.

Their eyes met.

A monochrome man stood before her.

Moonlight settled on his jet-black hair, scattering light all around. The light, touching his sharp profile, also shattered whitely.

Looking into his glassy eyes, Kyrie felt goosebumps rise on her arms.  He was excessively beautiful, excessively impassive, appearing almost inanimate. Like a marble sculpture meticulously crafted by a great artist of the century.

The only thing that proved he was a living person, made of flesh and blood, was…

“Ah, my apologies.”

“…”

“You must be the rumored Lady.”

…the slight upward curve of his lips as he spoke.

Kyrie let out a long sigh without realizing it.

Despite not being a particularly friendly smile, the man’s smiling face had the effect of drawing her gaze. She felt the pulse quicken in her throat, which was pressed against his inner arm.

Rustle.

Immediately after, the sound of the thin fabric of her nightgown echoed in the silence. Only then did Kyrie become fully aware of the situation once more.

“…”

Their gazes simultaneously fell to her body. To her pale skin, the curves of her figure visible beneath the thin fabric, clad in a negligee loose enough that the Duke could see right through it should he lower his head even slightly.

In the somewhat cool air, the delicate curve of her cleavage was prominent above the thin scrap of fabric.

The tension, momentarily dispersed, coalesced again, as if baring its teeth.

Kyrie was startled, belatedly realizing a sense of shame and humiliation.

‘Me?’

She hadn’t felt this way from the moment she snuck into the Crown Prince’s Palace, away from the bustling banquet hall, or even when she undressed in his bedroom. Rather, when she took off her corset, didn’t she even feel a sense of relief?

Yet, here she was, feeling this way before the impassive gaze of this man, before his sharp eyes that took in every inch of her body.

Kyrie blurted out impulsively, trying to dispel this emotion,

“And you must be the infamous Duke.”

The Duke’s smile shifted subtly, becoming more enigmatic. As if he was mocking her for even knowing who he was.

Instead of answering, he continued, his gaze still fixed on her body,

“A woman sneaking into the Crown Prince’s bedroom at this hour, after drugging the attendants.”

“…”

“You must have known you could be arrested for attempted assassination when you did this, right?”

Assassination?

It was a laughable accusation for Kyrie, who hadn’t even considered killing the Crown Prince, but had only intended to lie in bed with him.

Still, given the circumstances, she could understand why he might think that. She had drugged the attendants and snuck in here. If she had truly intended to assassinate him, she could have easily been lying here, concealed with a dagger.

Kyrie, inwardly acknowledging his point, tilted her head slightly as if confused.

She could honestly explain what she had been trying to do. That she hadn’t intended to assassinate him.

No, in fact, even if she didn’t confess, the Duke, who had been scrutinizing her body the whole time, would have already figured it out.

But regardless of that, she somehow wanted to make the man flustered.  Because of that piercing gaze that seemed to see right through her.

‘If I tell him the truth…’

If she blatantly declared that she had intended to seduce the Crown Prince, to take him into her bed, would that satisfy her?

However, those were just words uttered in her imagination. Her silver hair shimmered and flowed down against the Duke’s arm.

“And you, Your Grace,”

Kyrie continued, her lips pressed into a firm line,

“have also entered the Crown Prince’s Palace at this late hour, while its owner is absent, haven’t you?”

Regardless of the circumstances, they were both in a compromising position. At least, that’s what Kyrie thought, unaware of Lexion’s summons. The Duke replied calmly,

“Are you saying I’m also suspected of attempted assassination?”

“What else could it be?”

It was a rather sharp reply. The Duke shifted his gaze to her face. Kyrie met his gaze defiantly.

She had never yielded to anyone, but for some reason, she was even more reluctant to back down from this man. Every moment she met his eyes sent inexplicable shivers through her body, putting her nerves on edge.

“I see.”

In the next moment, the Duke gave a completely unexpected response and released the arm that held her. The fingers that gripped her wrists slowly trailed across her skin as they withdrew.

The hand that had been constricting her throat descended, brushing precariously past the front of her chest as it moved away. The slight shift in the air heightened her senses.

As soon as the Duke let go, Kyrie put distance between them. It was a fairly agile movement.

Only then did Kyrie consider the possibility of the Duke reporting her.

‘He’s supposed to be the Crown Prince’s advisor.’

The nobles often spoke of the Duke and Lexion as a loyal vassal and the Crown Prince who’d earned his trust. It meant their relationship was quite close.

‘If he reports me for Lexion’s sake…’

If he decided to accuse her of attempted assassination for sneaking into the Crown Prince’s bedroom…

For a fleeting moment, the image of Kyrie pushing down the Duke instead of the Crown Prince and climbing on top of him flashed through her mind. Should she try to silence him that way? If she insisted that the Duke had violated her, would he then keep his mouth shut?

But it was a foolish thought. He wasn’t a drunken Crown Prince. He was far stronger and more formidable. Trying to overpower him would be like trying to break a wall with an egg.

She’d be lucky if she wasn’t subdued even more forcefully than before and escaped with just a broken arm. Kyrie was still rational enough to realize that.

‘Then what should I do?’

If she were accused of assassination, all that remained was death. She wasn’t afraid of death, but she hated the thought of being stopped before she could even try anything.

Being humiliated for things she hadn’t even done was nothing new, but being punished for something she had intended to do but hadn’t yet carried out felt strangely unfair.

At this point, it seemed best to insist on accusing him as well.

“So if you’re going to report me…”

Kyrie began impulsively. The Duke looked at her intently and replied,

“Well that depends on you, my Lady.”

What did he mean by that?

Unable to discern the Duke’s intentions, Kyrie furrowed her brow.

He exuded the characteristic composure of someone in control. Just as she opened her mouth to ask him what he meant…

Tap.

Despite her attempt to distance herself, the Duke was suddenly close again.