On the other side, in a maid's room, a woman was seen having just finished leaving the bath. She then dried her wet body with a towel—gently wiping every drop, as if the clinging water was a shameful stain that needed to be erased. After that, she sat on a simple wooden chair, with ointment in her right hand.
"Agh... It hurts so much."
Elisa applied the ointment, layer after layer. Slowly and gently.
If I had known it would be like this. Her lips trembled. Last night, I should have just ignored that jerk of a prince.
Elisa could only manage a bitter smile; the innocence she had protected for so long was now stained. Not by love but by lust. Her beautiful eyes were moist, tears streaming past her long eyelashes—over her chin and falling onto her thigh.
Hic... Her snot also ran.
"Moth-mother... P-please forgive me f-for disappointing you." Her hands, now resting on her thighs, clenched tightly. The purity that was supposed to be her future husband's right was now gone.
Click.
The sound of a window knob scraping reached Elisa's ears. Elisa swiftly grabbed the blanket from the bed, right beside her. She put it on haphazardly, the important thing was that her private areas were covered.
Unconsciously, the ointment she was using fell to the floor. However, that small detail was not worthy of Elisa's attention. There was something more important to focus on.
Her heart beat faster, her gaze sharpened, and she unconsciously tightened her grip on the blanket.
Thud!
A pair of feet wearing distinctive Medieval boots landed perfectly.
"Ri-Your Highness!" Elisa stammered. The bones in her body trembled, unspoken fear due to the events of that night.
The man, none other than Rion, smiled beautifully. However, before answering Elisa, he closed the window he had opened first.
Rion von Moonstone. He turned, facing Elisa. His golden eyes calmly met Elisa's warm brown eyes.
Damn it.
Rion swallowed hard, realizing Elisa's body was only wrapped in a blanket.
Even a blanket can't hide her beautiful body. Bastard, why am I so aroused by her. Since when have I been this depraved? Wait, no. Isn't it normal that I'm aroused by her? Compared to other men, this is more appropriate.
Elisa, realizing Rion's gaze was no longer on her eyes but her body, tightened her grip on the blanket she was wearing.
"W-what is it?" she said softly.
Rion snapped back to attention. His smile widened—warm, like the morning sun. "I just want to make sure my valuable asset isn't permanently damaged."
Asset. The word stabbed Elisa like shards of glass.
Rion walked toward her—slow, controlled steps. Like a predator who knows its prey cannot run. He bent down, picking up the ointment that had fallen to the floor.
"Don't worry, Elisa." His voice was soft, like velvet. "I won't hurt you or repeat what happened last night." He looked into Elisa's eyes—a gaze that looked sincere, serious. "I just want to treat you."
Elisa bit the inside of her lip until she tasted metal on her tongue.
Should i trust him? What if he....
"I will stab my own heart if I lie." Rion's expression looked determined—he even raised his right hand as if swearing an oath.
Empty. Words without weight.
But Elisa—with her whole body trembling, with her mind still trapped in yesterday's night—nodded slowly. Because what other choice did she have?
Rion smiled—satisfied. He pulled another chair from the corner of the room, placed it right in front of Elisa, and sat down. The distance between them was only a handspan.
"Show me your hands," he said.
Elisa hesitated. Her hands trembled as she slowly extended her left wrist—which was bruised blue from the strong grip marks.
Rion took the wrist gently—too gently for the hand that had squeezed it until it bruised last night. His fingers traced the bruises with a clinical touch, like a doctor examining a patient.
But his golden eyes... there was something there. Something that made Elisa's stomach churn.
Satisfaction.
"Your skin is too soft," Rion murmured while applying the ointment with slow, circular motions. "Easily damaged."
Elisa did not answer. Her eyes stared at the wall—anywhere but at Rion.
"Look at me when I speak. And call me Rion."
A soft command. But there was a sharp edge underneath it—a hidden knife in a silk sheath.
"R-rion." Elisa forced herself to look into those golden irises. At that monster.
Rion smiled slightly. "Good."
His hand moved—from her wrist to Elisa's upper arm, where there was a finger-shaped bruise. Then to her shoulder. Then—
"The blanket," Rion said softly.
Elisa's heart stopped for a second. "W-what?"
"There are bruises on your thigh. I need to treat them." His voice was still calm—factual, as if discussing the weather.
"No need," Elisa whispered quickly. "I can do it myself later—"
"Elisa." The name sounded like a warning. "Don't make me repeat myself."
Tears welled up in the corners of Elisa's eyes. Her hands trembled as she slowly loosened the blanket—just slightly, enough to reveal her right thigh which was full of purplish bruises.
Rion stared at her for a long time. Too long.
"This..." He raised his hand, his fingers nearly—nearly—touching Elisa's skin. "I didn't mean to be this rough."
A lie. Elisa knew it was a lie. But Rion's voice sounded... regretful?
No. Not regret. Disappointment. Like an artist dissatisfied with his work.
Rion applied the ointment with circular motions—a gentle yet possessive pressure, like claiming territory. The touch made Elisa's skin crawl, every cell in her body screaming to pull away.
But she didn't move. She couldn't.
"You need to eat more," Rion suddenly said, still focused on her thigh. "Your body is too thin. Your bones are too prominent." He looked up at Elisa. "I don't like that."
I don't care what you like, Elisa wanted to scream. But all that came out was, "Alright."
Rion smiled—satisfied with the obedience.
His hand moved higher—
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Rion's hand froze. His eyes instantly sharpened.
"Elis... ELISA! It's time to work, did you forget? Why haven't you gathered with me and the others? Are you alright?" asked a woman outside the door.
Merlin.
Panic gripped Elisa. Her eyes widened, her breath hitched.
Rion quickly placed his index finger on Elisa's lips—a gesture for silence. Then he leaned closer, his lips right next to Elisa's ear, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.
"Not. One. Word."
His grip on Elisa's wrist tightened—painfully.
"If you tell her—" His warm breath on Elisa's skin made her hair stand on end. "—I will make sure she accompanies you at the bottom of the river. And you—" His grip became stronger, "—will witness it. Understand?"
Tears fell from Elisa's eyes—hot, filled with terror.
She nodded. Once. Small.
Rion smiled. "Good girl." His left hand, which held the ointment, placed the object on the study table.
Then, he released Elisa and with a swift movement stepped toward the large wardrobe in the corner of the room. The door opened soundlessly—Rion stepped inside, positioning himself among Elisa's hanging dresses.
The wardrobe door closed slowly.
Knock, knock, knock. Louder this time.
"ELISA!"
Elisa immediately snapped out of her daze, her eyes wide with panic. She couldn't let Merlin see her like this.
With frantic movements, she ran to another cabinet—grabbing a maid's uniform from the hanger. Her hands trembled as she pulled the dress over her head, tugged the sleeves, and buttoned it in a rush. Several buttons went into the wrong holes—she didn't care.
The maid skirt was put on hastily—slightly crooked, but covered.
"I'm coming, Merlin," she shouted—her voice hoarse, her breath ragged.
She nearly tripped over her own feet as she ran to the door. Then she opened it.
Merlin stood in the doorway—a woman in her 20s with high-tied brown hair, whose usually cheerful light brown eyes were now full of worry.
Her eyes immediately swept over Elisa's appearance from top to bottom—messy hair, untidy buttons, sweat on her temples.
"It's unlike you to be late, Elisa. Did something happen?" Her hand lifted, gently touching Elisa's shoulder. "You look... a mess."
"Nothing," Elisa replied quickly—too quickly. She moved away from Merlin's touch, backing up half a step. Her hands reflexively fixed the misplaced buttons—trying to appear normal.
Merlin observed. Her eyes narrowed—investigative.
"Then why are your eyes red? And you are a famously diligent maid, and now you are late. Even your uniform..." Merlin stared at the still misaligned buttons. "Are you feeling unwell? Did His Highness the Prince not give you enough rest?"
From inside the wardrobe, Rion heard every word. His hands clenched at his sides, his jaw tightening.
Damn it.
Dark. Narrow. Smelling of cedar wood and a hint of lavender from Elisa's clothes hanging around him. A dress brushed his face—soft, annoying. He brushed it away with a rough gesture.
Why does another maid have to interfere?
Merlin. I remember her—a kitchen maid, always cheerful, too friendly. Too attentive. The type who likes to butt into other people's business.
I hate her.
No. Not hate. I don't care about her. She's not important. Just a minor nuisance.
From the narrow gap of the wardrobe door, he could see part of the room. Elisa stood with her back straight—too straight. Like a doll with the strings pulled too tight. Her shoulders were tense, her hands trembled slightly at her sides.
"N-no, His Highness Prince Rion gave me enough rest. I just didn't utilize it well." Elisa shook her head.
Her voice trembled. Perfect. She knows the consequences of disobeying.
Rion smiled in the darkness—a smile without warmth.
Elisa is mine. No one can take her. Not Merlin. Not anyone. I have claimed her—body, future, even her fear. It's all mine.
"Hmm..." Merlin looked at Elisa gently. "Well, if you need someone to talk to, I'll be in the kitchen."
Rion almost laughed—a small sound choked in his throat that he suppressed.
Someone to talk to.
As if Elisa could talk. As if anyone would listen to a maid's complaint about the Crown Prince. The beloved Prince of the people.
No one. There never will be.
"Thank you, Merlin, believe me, I'm fine." Elisa reassured her.
"No... You'd better not work today. Go back to your room and sleep." Merlin pointed inside the room.
"Alright. Thank you, and don't worry about me too much, or your own performance might suffer."
Merlin pushed Elisa's shoulders—pushing her back into the room. "Actually, if you don't rest, I'll keep worrying." Merlin put her hand on her hip. Imitating a mother scolding her child.
Rion tensed. Merlin must have seen the ointment on the table and the chair out of place.
Should I kill her?
"Alright," Merlin finally said. "I'll tell the head maid that you're sick today. Get some rest, okay?"
"Yes. Thank you, Merlin."
The door closed. Merlin's footsteps moved away—the sound of shoes on the stone corridor, quieter, farther away.
Silence.
Rion waited—counting internally. Ten seconds. Twenty. Thirty.
Safe.
He pushed the wardrobe door open—the daylight briefly blinded him. His eyes adjusted as he stepped out, stretching his stiff shoulders.
Elisa was still standing in the same spot—like a statue. Her face was pale as a candle. Her hands trembled at her sides.
Rion walked closer—slowly, surely.
"You did well," he said, his voice returning to soft—like silk wrapping around a stone. He lifted his hand, wanting to touch Elisa's cheek.
Elisa flinched backward—a reflex.
Rion's hand froze in the air.
Something in his chest—hot. Like an ember suddenly flaring up. Anger? No. Not anger.
Hurt.
No. I am not hurt. I don't care. She is just a maid. Her reaction means nothing.
"Don't be afraid," he whispered—his voice hoarser than usual. "I won't harm you."
Elisa's eyes—the warm brown that used to look at him with respect, perhaps even a little admiration—now only showed fear. Raw, primitive fear.
Good. Fear is a more sincere form of respect.
"I have to go," Rion suddenly said—his voice sharper than intended. He turned, walking to the window with steps that were a little too fast.
Before opening the window, he looked back—staring at Elisa who was still frozen in place.
"Get enough rest, Elisa." His voice dropped—softer. "I need you in top condition."
For what? Elisa wanted to ask. But her lips didn't move.
Rion opened the window—the afternoon breeze rushed in, bringing the scent of flowers from the garden. He threw one leg out, sitting briefly on the windowsill.
"Ah, one more thing." He looked at Elisa with a gaze that was hard to read. "Don't forget to lock your window tonight. There are many bad people out there."
A cruel irony.
Then he jumped—landing perfectly on the stone corridor twenty feet below. His steps were light as he walked away, hands in his pockets, even whistling softly—a melody of a song his mother used to sing.
A productive day.
In the room, Elisa was still standing—frozen like a melting ice statue.
The door was closed. Merlin was gone. Rion was gone.
Alone.
Her legs gave way—she fell to the floor, her knees hitting the hard wood with a dull thud. But she didn't feel the pain. There was no more room for physical pain.
Her hands hugged her own chest tightly, like a child hugging a doll.
A sob broke—loud, ragged, like something tearing from the inside.
"Mother," she whispered into the fabric she was wearing—her voice muffled, broken. "Mother, I can't. I can't do this."
But there was no answer. Only the gentle breeze blowing from the window Rion had left open—like a reminder that he could return at any time.
He's changed... He's no longer the Rion I knew.