Chapter 19

***

Yuneria had desperately pleaded for mercy, struggling to articulate the words with a tongue rendered utterly useless by the fever and drugs.

“Why should I?”

“…Pardon?”

Instead of releasing his jaw, the Duke tightened his grip, violently shaking Yuneria’s face from side to side. The previously frigid blue-gray eyes were now clouded with profound boredom.

“You lack intelligence, you possess filthy habits, and frankly, I am entirely sick of you staring at me like a bitch in heat.”

“S-Sick of me…?”

Being called stupid and filthy was devastating, but the revelation that the Duke was “sick of him” drained every last drop of blood from Yuneria’s face. The Duke had discovered his deception that day, and worse, he had completely lost interest.

Yuneria desperately recalled the intelligence his mother had provided regarding the Duke.

He is a newly emerged, astronomically powerful Duke in the Cartia Empire. His background is entirely shrouded in mystery, yet he commands the absolute, unwavering trust of both the Emperor and the Imperial nobility. He is secretly traveling the Terne Continent on the Emperor’s orders to find a ‘Letia.’ I have no idea what a Letia is, but it must be something phenomenally important.

If you analyze the common patterns in his behavior across the nations he has visited, it seems to be related to pregnancy and childbirth. There are widespread rumors that in every country, he gathers specific individuals at his private estates and engages in prolonged, highly obscene acts.

Therefore, Ria, my beautiful son. Why don’t you and I place a massive wager on this opportunity?

His mother’s “intelligence” had been less of a strategic briefing and more of a dangerously sweet temptation. Consequently, he had listened to the stories about the Duke until his ears bled and memorized them until his tongue cramped. However, the one piece of information Yuneria desperately needed right now—How to appease the Duke’s wrath—was entirely missing from that data.

There was absolutely no information regarding the Duke’s true personality, his genuine likes, or his actual dislikes. Everything was purely superficial data gathered by third-party observers: the fact that he owned massive estates in every country, or that he was an unfathomably wealthy tycoon who casually squandered priceless mana stones like spare change.

The information was one hundred percent accurate…

Unable to withstand the crushing weight of the Duke’s stare, Yuneria desperately wanted to close his eyes. Yet, he couldn’t. His primal instincts screamed that closing his eyes in this situation was tantamount to exposing his neck to a colossal apex predator preparing to strike.

Just then. Over the Duke’s shoulder, slightly off in the distance and just barely catching the edge of his peripheral vision, Yuneria spotted a head of bright blonde hair.

It’s that commoner bastard.

Lino had finally arrived. In just a few moments, that filthy wretch would be dragged onto the auction stage as merchandise. Yuneria had planned to sit back, sneer, and thoroughly enjoy watching the bastard’s absolute ruin. But forget enjoying the show; sheer terror paralyzed him as he realized he might actually die by the Duke’s hand before Lino even reached the stage.

“Ah, he’s finally here.”

“?”

The Duke twisted one corner of his mouth into a sharp, predatory smirk. Who is here? Don’t tell me… did he realize that bastard arrived? That was impossible. All communication with Enoch was jammed, and the Duke hadn’t turned his head once, keeping his gaze entirely locked on Yuneria. There was absolutely no physical way he could have seen the commoner enter the third basement floor.

So how on earth…

“I suspect this will be the absolute final nasty little prank you ever pull.”

“……”

Final.

Yuneria’s brain belatedly processed that the word final spilling from the Duke’s lips did not merely apply to his pranks. Perhaps his delayed realization was due to the agonizing sensation of his jawbone being crushed. Or perhaps… because it was already shattering.

Mother—

Yuneria silently cried out for the woman who had smiled so brightly, promising this was the perfect intelligence, assuring him this was his golden ticket to transcend his status as a provincial Marquis’s son and ascend to become a Duchess of the Empire. He couldn’t scream aloud; he could only cry out in his mind. The sickening crack, crack of his jawbone fracturing echoed through his mouth and violently rattled his skull.

A Letia… seems to be related to pregnancy. I’ll dig up more information, so you focus on finding a way to win the Duke’s favor. What man could possibly resist you, who looks exactly like me? Let’s use this opportunity to build a nest in the Empire. A Duchess of the Empire… just imagining it makes me so incredibly happy.

Mother, forget building a nest in the Empire; I don’t think I’ll even secure a grave here.

The hand crushing Yuneria’s jaw twisted savagely. The horrifying sound of splintering bone instantly shot down his neck. Overwhelmed by the visceral shock and agony, Yuneria’s pupils lost focus, clouding over completely. Beneath his furiously trembling eyelids, his eyes rolled back into his skull, and his head slumped forward.

“To think I dragged a pathetic insect incapable of withstanding even this much around with me for an entire month. How incredibly irritating.”

Grondil released Yuneria’s shattered jaw. Yuneria’s limp, lifeless body plummeted to the floor like a corpse. A heavy thud echoed, but it was entirely swallowed by the thick carpet and the surging noise of the resumed auction.

The patrons seated around Grondil cast brief, apathetic glances at the unconscious Yuneria sprawled on the floor before immediately losing interest. Looks like he got high on the upper floors before coming down, someone muttered quietly. Even without drugs, simply passing through the second basement floor was more than enough to explain such a collapse.

Grondil stared down at the unconscious Yuneria with dark, sunken eyes. Though he looked like a corpse, Grondil’s heightened senses detected a faint, shallow pulse. Nudging Yuneria’s leg aside with the tip of his polished boot, Grondil shifted his gaze toward the staircase entrance. There, he spotted a head of bright blonde hair surrounded by a swarm of guards, being forcefully dragged away.

I suppose that fledgling is my only remaining option.

The day the holy knights who had passed the initial document screening gathered at the estate, Grondil had found the prospect of individually evaluating dozens of candidates so profoundly tedious that he had unleashed his beast roar—an ability he exclusively reserved for use within his own Principality. It was a fast and highly efficient method, but one requiring extreme precision; a slight miscalculation in force could permanently rupture the eardrums of innocent humans. Naturally, Grondil modulated the roar flawlessly, instantly filtering the dozens of knights down to just two viable candidates.

Two candidates: Yuneria Ganel Disson and Lino Cliff.

He decided to investigate Yuneria first, simply because he appeared statistically more likely to be the Letia. Ancient records explicitly detailed that the legendary Letia possessed blindingly radiant beauty, leading Grondil to generously rate Yuneria’s probability quite high.

And the result of enduring over a month of profound annoyance and suffocating boredom was the pathetic scene currently unfolding. Had Enoch not reported that Yuneria was wearing custom-made earplugs that day, Grondil might have been subjected to the agonizing torture of observing Yuneria’s remarkably unappealing, hairless body for two or three months instead of just one.

Was that other bastard wearing something in his ears too?

Without sparing another glance at the unconscious Yuneria on the floor, Grondil stood up and headed straight for the staircase entrance. His capacity for mercy ended here. Not only had Yuneria audaciously deceived him, but the rat had also attempted to eliminate the only other Letia candidate. Yuneria should count his lucky stars this was Zetina and not the Principality.

Having his jaw shattered meant he would suffer immensely for quite a long time, but with enough money and connections, he would eventually recover to some extent. Even if his face never regained its former perfect symmetry.

Angry murmurs erupted from the crowd as Grondil’s massive frame blocked their view of the stage, but a single, sweeping, utterly silent glare from the Duke instantly choked the protests in their throats. The surrounding patrons literally forgot how to breathe.

It was only after Grondil casually strolled out of the auction participant area that the crowd collectively realized they had been holding their breath, resulting in a sudden, desperate chorus of frantic gasping.

That guy… his body was surprisingly gorgeous.

Descending the stairs without making a single sound, Grondil reflected on a recent realization. It had occurred shortly after he had nodded in agreement to Enoch’s blunt assessment that Sir Disson absolutely did not seem to be the Letia.

Aside from “surviving” the beast roar, there was absolutely zero evidence pointing to Yuneria being the Letia.

After scouring every single ancient text preserved in the Principality, the total compiled intelligence regarding the Letia amounted to exactly one infuriatingly vague sentence:

Having incurred the wrath of God, a symbolic mark shall manifest somewhere upon the body as absolute proof of receiving His forgiveness and blessing.

Grondil had absolutely no desire to personally grope Yuneria’s unappealing body—which completely missed his tastes—to search for the mark. This tedious, repulsive physical inspection was a process he had been forced to repeat not just with Yuneria, but with candidates across multiple nations before arriving in Zetina.

Unless he was actively in rut, there was zero chance Grondil would lose his rationality and become aroused by a partner. Of course, even outside of his rut, he never refused a partner who perfectly matched his preferences, but thus far, absolutely no one had met his exacting standards.

As a newly emerged, astronomically powerful Duke wielding the absolute trust of the Cartia Emperor, the number of individuals attempting to seduce or exploit Grondil was countless. While many attempted standard seduction, an overwhelming majority resorted to illicit means, primarily attempting to drug him into submission.

Unfortunately for them, aphrodisiacs and sexual stimulants had absolutely zero effect on Grondil. It was an immunity that Lino—whose constitution absorbed drugs like a dry sponge—would have desperately envied.

However, the “other” escort knight he had observed sleeping in the study a short while ago had significantly piqued his appetite. When he had first approved the blurry, horrific photo on the resume, he hadn’t understood his own reasoning. But examining the man up close proved he was actually highly appetizing.

He wondered if his primal instincts had overridden his logic when selecting the boy.

Plump, soft, and remarkably chewy.

Lino Cliff’s physique could be perfectly summarized by those three adjectives. And my, did he sleep deeply. Grondil had poked, prodded, and spoken loudly right next to him, yet aside from a slight frown and a soft whimper, the chick showed absolutely zero signs of waking up.

Because Lino looked so incredibly comfortable, Grondil’s curiosity regarding the quality of the lounge mattress peaked, prompting him to actually lie down next to the boy to test it. The mattress itself was mediocre at best, but watching the idiot sleep so peacefully had miraculously melted away the massive accumulation of stress and irritation Grondil had harbored from his prolonged Letia hunt.

Perhaps that was why.

Grondil had accidentally revealed his true form—a shape he absolutely never exposed outside the borders of his Principality. Enoch, who had been in the study with them, had been so utterly terrified by his master’s sudden, violent transformation that he had collapsed onto the floor, frantically waving his hands and silently begging the Duke to revert to his human shape immediately.

Perhaps because he had finally stretched his limbs in his true form after such a long time, watching Yuneria’s pathetic masturbation show later that night hadn’t irritated him as much as usual. Of course, the suppressed annoyance simply compounded and crashed into him with double the force the following day.

Regardless, it was undeniable that the human named Lino Cliff had captured his interest. And unlike Yuneria, the interest was entirely positive.

Therefore, I absolutely cannot sit back and watch his life be ruined by a malicious, petty prank.

Grondil’s pace down the stairs rapidly accelerated. His long legs began taking the steps two at a time. Suddenly, pushing off powerfully with one foot, he launched himself into the air, completely clearing the remaining flight and landing flawlessly at the bottom. His long, silver-gray hair billowed wildly around him like a halo. It was a distance and height that would have shattered the legs of any normal human.

Grondil’s movements were visually undeniable, yet they produced absolutely zero sound. It was as if he alone had been muted within the chaotic, deafening roar of the auction house.

He strode confidently toward the door leading backstage. Although he hadn’t turned around while listening to Yuneria’s pathetic flattery, he had tracked Lino’s frantic movements. The sudden, unnatural cessation of Lino’s struggling strongly suggested the guards had forcefully incapacitated him.

“How may we assist you?”

Just as Grondil reached for the doorknob beneath the [Authorized Personnel Only] sign, the guards stationed to protect the staircase and the backstage corridor instantly swarmed him, blocking his path.

“If you have any complaints or require assistance, please inform us, and kindly return to your seat.”

The captain of the guards bowed politely, requesting Grondil to retreat. Although Grondil wore a mask that only exposed his jawline, Yuneria had thoroughly briefed the guards in advance regarding the identity of the man with the flowing, brilliant silver-gray hair.

The captain focused entirely on the Duke’s exposed eyes and lips, aiming to instantly gauge and react to the distinguished guest’s mood. He could detect no displeasure or rage in the Duke’s blue-gray eyes, and the corners of his red lips were curled upward in a soft, gentle smile.

Yuneria’s frantic warning that the Duke was a terrifying, unpredictable monster whose true thoughts were impossible to read briefly flashed through the captain’s mind, but he immediately dismissed it.

He just seems like a genuinely pleasant guy. The kid was probably just acting paranoid because of some petty noble power struggle. Arrogantly misjudging Grondil’s personality, the captain responded with a confident smile.

“If you wait just a little longer, significantly more valuable merchandise will be presented. I strongly advise you not to miss the opportunity to bid.”

Despite the captain flashing his most exceptionally accommodating, benevolent smile, the Duke merely tilted his head in mild confusion and casually shooed them away with his hand. It was a blatant, silent command for the captain and the barricade of guards to immediately step aside.

Checking his watch and noting the ongoing auction on the main stage, the captain’s brow twitched with annoyance. He needed to get the Duke back to his seat immediately; this unexpected delay was threatening to derail the schedule.

“I apologize, but I must insist you return to your seat, esteemed guest.”

He had to force the Duke back to the participant area immediately. Once the Duke was seated, the captain had to rush backstage and initiate the operation. Yuneria’s explicit demand was to dress the man named Lino as obscenely and vulgarly as possible, drag him onto the stage, and ensure the Duke witnessed the entire humiliating spectacle.

He had received a massive advance payment, and upon successful completion, a final payout ten times that amount would be wired directly into his account.

How much time do I have left? Hiding his mounting anxiety, the captain covertly checked his watch.

Because this was a highly irregular, unadvertised “insertion” auction, they had planned to slip Lino onto the stage immediately following an item that could be rushed to save time. The artifact from the ruined ancient civilization scheduled to appear next was that exact item. Time-wise, it seemed manageable, but aggressively stripping and styling an unconscious, dead-weight man was incredibly labor-intensive.

We’ve already drugged him enough to completely eliminate any resistance. As for the clothes… I think we can just throw him on stage exactly as he is. He’s bundled up tight, but it’s one of those bizarre uniforms that somehow looks significantly sluttier than being completely naked. Actually, using the stage performance planned for the batch of male prostitutes later tonight on him first might be a fantastic idea. Forcibly strip him on stage, drench him entirely in oil, and—

“I am simply retrieving my own knight. By what authority do you dare block my path?”

“…Excuse me?”

The captain had fully expected the Duke to eventually yield and return to his seat. Instead, the Duke’s voice was suddenly laced with absolute, biting frost. Why is it so freezing cold when it’s the middle of summer? Not only the captain, but the guards standing beside him involuntarily shivered, vigorously rubbing their forearms.

However, the captain refused to back down. Where did the Duke think he was? This was the Black Market Auction House of the Baron Merchant Guild, an organization that practically dictated the underworld of the entire Terne Continent. Even high-ranking nobles from the two great Empires desperately scrambled and groveled for an invitation to this auction. As the captain of the guards in this absolute sanctuary, he firmly believed he wielded authority rivaling that of the aristocracy, at least within these walls.

Therefore, even knowing Grondil was a Duke of the Empire, the captain acted with brazen audacity. So what? He’s just some newly appointed, upstart noble anyway.

However.

“Move.”

The beautifully curved lips that had been smiling gently just moments ago violently twisted, spitting out a curt, chilling command that caused the captain to sharply inhale. The shape of his lips remained undeniably beautiful, yet simply because one corner had dropped, the captain felt as though his windpipe had been violently crushed. The polite amusement entirely vanished from the Duke’s eyes, replaced by a profound, terrifying combination of deep boredom and lethal irritation.

“Move.”

“I cannot.”

Despite the Duke’s frost-laden command, the astronomical payout dazzling the captain’s vision proved far more compelling than his survival instincts. Consequently, he entirely failed to notice the Duke’s eyes bleeding into a pitch-black, abyssal void. Actually, even if he had noticed, it wouldn’t have mattered; he never could have escaped the monstrous grip that struck with the speed of a fired bullet. Even the surrounding guards, who had been laser-focused on the Duke, failed to register the movement.

“Urgh…! Kuuhk…!”

It was only when a strangled, agonizing wheeze erupted from the captain’s throat that the guards realized the Duke had effortlessly hoisted their leader into the air by his neck with a single hand.

“I despise things becoming overly complicated, which is why I am attempting to resolve this politely… but if you continue to obstruct me, I believe I will become genuinely angry. Therefore, I highly suggest you open the door while I am still asking nicely.”

Unlike before, the Duke was using polite, respectful language, yet it somehow felt infinitely more terrifying. Furthermore, he was casually suspending the captain—a heavily muscled man who easily exceeded the average height—in mid-air with one hand. The captain desperately clawed and scratched at the Duke’s arm to break the grip, but he failed to leave even a microscopic scratch on the Duke’s skin. In fact, his frantic thrashing only caused the Duke’s grip to tighten, effectively accelerating his own strangulation.

“W-We will open it for you.”

One of the terrified guards frantically spun around and grabbed the doorknob. However, the captain, whose greed still eclipsed his need for oxygen, choked out a desperate protest.

“No… my money…”

“Money, you say. Did Sir Disson promise you that?”

“…!”

The captain’s eyes bulged in absolute horror as his secret transaction with Yuneria was effortlessly exposed. It was a silent, terrified scream of: How the hell do you know that?!

“Oh, what a tragedy. I don’t believe Sir Disson is currently in any mental state to process a payment.”

“…?”

“I suppose he could technically wire the funds since he is still breathing… but knowing Sir Disson’s temperament, I highly doubt he will compensate a man who so catastrophically failed to execute his orders. Unless your brain is entirely composed of wet sawdust, surely you can deduce which is more valuable: your money, or your life?”

The Duke’s languid, soft voice bizarrely sounded as though it were resonating from the absolute depths of a beast’s throat. The sound didn’t even penetrate their eardrums; it merely brushed past their ears, yet the guards barricading the door instantly collapsed to the floor in sheer terror. While he was far from “fine,” the only man who hadn’t collapsed was the captain currently being strangled in the Duke’s grip.

“Now you’re being cooperative.”

Grondil casually discarded the captain onto the floor like a crumpled piece of trash and pushed the door open. The long corridor extending backstage radiated an aura far darker and vastly more sinister than the auction hall itself.

“I am simply going to retrieve my knight and leave quietly. I highly recommend you refrain from doing anything stupid. Just guard the door diligently, exactly as you were doing before.”

Flashing a brilliant, charming smile, the Duke looked absolutely nothing like the monster who had just driven a massive man to the brink of death seconds prior. Brushing his hands off with a crisp clap, the Duke vanished into the dark corridor. From beyond the closed door, the captain’s violent, agonizing coughing echoed loudly.

***