Episode 2
To suppress her cough, she lowered her voice. Her hoarse, hushed tone was scarcely more than a thread of a whisper. If the blanket had not muffled the sound of the rain so well, it would not have been audible at all.
“……A search.”
The man listened for a moment to her low, labored breathing. The woman’s narrow rib cage rose and fell shallowly. It was only as loud as the breath he allowed her.
The woman waited for his decision, having relaxed her entire body without the slightest resistance.
“Fine.”
The decision was made.
The hand that had gripped her throat viciously moved to press against her lips. She obediently complied with the unspoken command to open her mouth. The hand felt its way through her mouth and over her tongue in turn, then wrapped around her jaw once, like a threat, before slowly stroking down over her collarbone. Only then could she draw a somewhat easier breath.
“For now, your eyes, nose, and mouth seem to be attached where they belong.”
Using the sensation at his fingertips, the man made out the hollow above the prominent collarbone. The woman had hardly any flesh on her at all. He could feel the framework of her bones intact beneath his hand.
His fingertips caught on the shoulder strap of her nightclothes. Without the slightest consideration, he tore it off. Caught and pulled in every direction, the nightclothes were reduced to tatters in an instant.
He dropped the scraps of cloth onto the floor. He was checking whether any unidentified noise was mixed in with the sound. The pieces of fabric, thrown down one after another, sailed through the air and landed with soft rustles. Amid the faint, almost inaudible sounds, there was no suspicious trace.
The woman who had boldly declared that he should search her body himself lay pinned beneath him, utterly unable to move.
Slowly, he brought the bridge of his nose to some part of her body. With the four senses other than sight, he sensed the woman. The feel of fine, downy hairs tickled the tip of his nose. It was probably behind her ear, or perhaps the nape of her neck where the fine hairs grew.
Her hair, spread widely across the sheet, was remarkably soft in texture. It was fairly long, too. He buried his face in her hair and breathed in its scent deeply. The woman had been moving around near the window moments before, dealing with the open window, and a faint mixture of rainwater and laundry soap clung to her.
“Come to think of it, your voice sounded unfamiliar.”
Though the question came somewhat abruptly, the woman answered calmly.
“I have been here for a week.”
There was a reason she sounded unfamiliar. Newly hired servants were assigned to the most remote parts of the estate, where they would have no occasion to encounter him. The woman appeared to be in charge of the laundry.
He slowly ran his hands down the woman’s body. His fingers traced each joint along her orderly frame until they felt the edge of the rounded swell of her breast. Its particularly full, yielding texture resembled the feeling of holding a lump of clay. As he curved his fingers around its raised shape, its moderate weight filled his palm. The pointed tip of her erect nipple scraped against his hand.
The woman’s breathing faltered slightly. Her skin, holding a faint warmth, rose and fell thinly with each breath. Whether from the cold or from tension, the woman’s body temperature was somewhat low.
He examined the uneven ridges of her ribs. Her waist, sunken beneath them, was so flat that it could not fill his grasp. Passing over her waistline, his hand advanced in great strides as it gauged the rounded prominence of her pelvic bones, then ripped open the seam of her undergarments. She was now completely naked, without so much as a thread covering her.
Despite her calm obedience, the woman’s body was quite honest in the face of fear. Her rigid thighs obstructed his access. Of course, that was not a problem he needed to concern himself with.
His hand forced her vulva open. Two fingers recklessly penetrated the dry, parched entrance. Blind fingers roughly scraped and stirred the narrow, arid mucous membrane. There was no erotic implication whatsoever in his touch; he was searching her body, and nothing more.
The merciless probing brought forth an unfamiliar pain. The man’s fingers, thick-jointed and long, swept through her with startling depth. She had hidden nothing, so there was nothing for him to find. She pressed her lips tightly shut and endured until the man’s hand, having discovered nothing, withdrew from inside her.
Every second stretched as long as an hour. After thoroughly rummaging through her entire body, the crushing grip restraining her wrists finally loosened.
She slowly pulled down her freed arms. The movement caused one corner of the blanket to fall open. Cold air from outside pushed into the blanket, which had grown warm with the trapped heat of two bodies. Her body cooled in an instant.
She picked up the largest of the torn scraps of clothing, covered herself, and stood. The pain from having her insides searched left the space between her legs aching and numb. She found herself limping as she walked.
“If you permit me, I shall take my leave.”
Though she knew the man could not see anything, she still bowed and offered him a farewell before turning away.
“Your name.”
The slow voice stopped her for a moment.
She remained silent for a brief while before answering.
“……Rose. My name is Rose.”
The man gave a slight nod of his chin. It was a dismissal.
Just before opening the door to leave, Rose glanced back at him.
The man had already lost interest in her and was fumbling to rest a medicine bottle against the long neck of a half-empty wine bottle, tilting it carefully. A drop of yellowish-brown liquid fell from the medicine bottle into the wine with a soft plink. The faint scent of sweet herbs she had smelled earlier drifted toward her.
The man swirled the wine mixed with medicine and gulped it down. His movements were so smooth that Rose was inwardly startled. It was clearly a habit he had repeated often enough to perform naturally even without sight.
When she opened the door and stepped out, the servants gathered in the corridor exchanged relieved glances. It would have been natural to wonder what had happened inside, since she had entered fully clothed and emerged naked, carrying only rags, yet no one asked what had taken place.
Someone draped a robe over her fully exposed back.
A place where no one was surprised by anything that happened.
This was the beast’s estate.
❖ ❖ ❖
“Rose, how is your throat?”
Mrs. Serva approached through the pale steam of the laundry room. Mrs. Serva, whose journey had been halted by the midnight storm, had not returned to the estate by carriage until dawn began to break.
Rose cleared her throat with a brief, dry cough.
“I am fine.”
Contrary to her answer, her voice was still hoarse.
It was only after rising that morning that she discovered the dark blue bruises around her throat, shaped exactly like the handprints that had strangled her. There was no need to mention the thighs the man had crushed beneath his weight. She had hurriedly wrapped a handkerchief around herself to conceal the injuries, but most of the servants had likely already seen the bruises scattered across Rose’s body the previous night. That was why they had all remained silent.
“You must have been terribly frightened. I should not have left yesterday.”
Mrs. Serva, who managed the estate and also served as its head attendant, was an elderly woman with thick white hair. She was remarkably tall for her age and stood straight-backed, but her vision had grown dim, and she could not see clearly without her thick magnifying spectacles. Her aching knees also meant that she always walked with a cane, tapping it sharply against the floor.
“It was nothing.”
Rose denied it. But Mrs. Serva, who had heard all about the previous night from the other servants, did not believe her explanation. Instead, she gently loosened the handkerchief around Rose’s neck. Her small, distorted eyes behind the magnifying lenses drew close as she examined the injury from every angle. At the blackened imprint of fingers encircling Rose’s long throat, the old woman clicked her tongue.
“I wonder if that man will stop only after this old woman, with a body already worn out at her age, collapses while tending to him alone.”
It was obvious what Mrs. Serva was worried about. With the estate already short-handed, she feared Rose might decide to leave.
The fact that the estate had so few servants was partly due to the desire to keep the condition of the man who had become blind after being hailed as a national hero from becoming known outside. But it was also largely because the servants could not endure the man’s eccentric temperament and fled one after another.
Rose retied the handkerchief.
“……I will not quit over something like this. Do not worry.”
At her firm assurance, Mrs. Serva’s expression brightened considerably.
“I knew I had judged you correctly. From the day I first saw you, I thought you were a cautious and thoughtful young lady.”
“Me? Why?”
“Because you came at night. No matter how short-handed we are, we do not accept anyone who comes during the day.”
Was this another rule of the estate?
There were many strange rules in this estate. Rules that demanded no understanding, only absolute obedience. Rose lowered her gaze.
“It may not be easy to understand, but do not think too poorly of Sir Ezekaile.”
“I would never.”
“He was not such a harsh man before he lost his sight……”
After confirming Rose’s intention not to quit, Mrs. Serva cautiously began taking her master’s side.
“I still remember the day Sir Ezekaile came to this estate. It was the middle of a snowstorm, in the dead of night. He said he had deliberately chosen such foul weather before setting out. Afraid someone might be following him, he had not even prepared a carriage, relying only on three or four subordinates who had fought under his command. Since he could not sit and ride a horse, he was brought here laid across a saddle.”
The old woman’s eyes clouded in an instant. With a sigh, she continued.
“All the way from the capital, Cleris, to this place, Derosa, without even the flag of Valdemaera…… Like a piece of luggage.”