To My First Love, With Regret - 91

Amidst her bone-deep helplessness, Eve felt a ridiculous sense of relief. It had been a wise decision not to demand an explanation on the spot.

The stigma of being a ‘traitor’ was unbearably unfair and sorrowful, but to pour that out to someone who had been cast into hell because of her would have only reduced her words to a pathetic, cowardly excuse. And no matter how justified her grievance, no words could serve as a shield against the razor-sharp truth: ‘But you didn’t save me.’ It would have only deepened the wounds in her heart.

The dish Eve ordered grew cold, untouched. It felt as though a hot lump of iron was lodged in her throat, making it impossible to swallow. The only thing that went down was the strong liquor. She tilted her glass repeatedly, but even that burning sensation failed to wash away her scalding resentment.

—Ha….

She set down her glass and took a silver cigarette case from her handbag. As she opened it to pull one out, Owen’s hand suddenly reached out to stop her.

—Lady, I understand how you feel, but….

He lowered his voice, conscious of their surroundings, as his mouth continued to wag.

—Could you please refrain for the sake of the child to be born? Even before conception, there are research results suggesting that smoking and drinking have adverse effects on the fetus.

At that loathsome remark, Eve’s hand froze in mid-air. She stared at Owen with eyes turned cold as ice before snapping the cigarette case shut with a harsh click.

She was merely following a doctor’s professional advice. Of course, that disgusting parasite was trying to play the part of the ‘father’ to her future child. An impulse to kill him on the spot surged within her.

Wait. Just until I conceive.

And that child must officially be Owen Kallas. This was both a defense to escape Ethan’s clutches and her most fatal attack. Eve had already designed everything. The moment a child took root in this body, the meticulously placed dominoes would fall in succession, triggering a bloodbath where they would tear each other apart.

As a footstool for that ruin, Eve had declared to Owen today that he had proven his worth as a man, and she would make him a father as promised. Owen had been so moved by the trickery that he even shed tears, only to immediately start this presumptuous interference—as if Eve’s womb were his own territory. He dared to try and reign over her, as if providing the mediocre seed found anywhere in the world were some grand power.

Forgetting even his status as a slave, he disobeyed the order to remain silent and kept wagging his tongue.

—I believe Tony being born with a congenital heart defect wasn’t your fault, Lady. It was the fault of the man who cruelly neglected a woman carrying a child.

A ‘hollow’ vow followed—that he, unlike Ethan Fairchild, would protect Eve as a devoted father and husband. Eve could no longer endure the sneer rising in her throat and stood up.

—I’ve heard enough of your resolve. Let’s head upstairs.

The time for the ‘great task’ had arrived. Though, of course, it was a different task than the one he was anticipating.

They left the restaurant and boarded the elevator. It should have been silent with just the two of them, but a ragged breathing grated against her eardrums. She had been avoiding his gaze, find it nauseating how he had jumped up from his seat as if he’d been waiting for the exact second they would enter a bedroom. But unable to bear the increasingly, wetly persistent sound of his breath, Eve glared at Owen—and faced a revolting sight.

A hideous silhouette bulged against his neat military trousers. He had an erection simply from the thought of coupling with her.

Immediately, terror washed over her, sending shivers down her spine. She suddenly realized that no matter how weak his mind was, his body was still that of a man who could easily overpower a fragile woman.

The moment we enter the room, if this docile dog turns into a beast in heat, if he pins me down and rapes me….

Eve clutched the handbag containing her service revolver as if it were a lifeline. But the sense of crisis was instantly replaced by hollow exhaustion and disgust.

—I-I am sorry. Thinking that I can finally fulfill my value as a man to you, I simply couldn’t contain myself….

Rather than pouncing on Eve when his raw desire was discovered, the man chose to drop to all fours on the floor. Looking up at her, he was the very picture of a dog awaiting its master’s punishment.

—Please, punish me for being in heat without permission, Master.

Eve wasn’t relieved; she was horrified. The elevator would stop and the doors would open any second.

What if someone sees us like this?

Overwhelmed by anger beyond mere embarrassment, her body moved faster than her words.

Thwack!

—Urgh!

Eve kicked the man’s groveling backside mercilessly with the heel of her shoe.

—Act like a human while we’re in public.

—I-I will keep that in mind.

Just then, the elevator ground to a halt and the doors slid open. Fortunately, the hallway was deserted. Eve hurried out as if escaping the elevator, not once looking back. The man, who had been fumbling to pick up his fallen glasses, scurried after her.

When they reached the door of the suite, he pulled a key from his pocket and slid it into the lock. The way his hands shook with excitement was a pathetic sight.

The door finally opened, but Eve could not enter. Owen stood blocking the way, his face flushed as he babbled more nonsense.

—L-Lady… they say that on the first night, the groom must carry the bride over the threshold for good luck to dwell within….

Eve let out a cold laugh and, without a second’s hesitation, drove the sharp toe of her shoe into his shin.

—Ack!

She swept past the collapsing man and crossed the threshold alone, a pointed statement in every step.

—I don’t believe in such superstitions.

The marriage where she had performed that ‘lucky’ ritual to perfection had ultimately struck a terrible misfortune and been wrecked beyond repair.

Click.

The sound of the door locking sent Eve’s nerves into high alert. She was trapped in a private room with a male expecting to mate.

Fortunately, the patient—addicted to his own subservience—still did not pounce. Instead, he crawled on all fours to Eve’s feet and prostrated himself.

—My Queen, I will give my everything to satisfy you. After tonight, you won’t even remember that vulgar man….

—I believe I told you to only open your mouth when you are eating?

Eve reached into her handbag and pulled something out, holding it toward him. It was a vial of sleeping pills.

—Take it.

Owen could not hide his bewilderment. He had come to share a bed with his queen, only to be told to literally fall asleep. He looked up at her, unable to comprehend his master’s intent. Lady Evelyn’s lips trembled as if she were about to confess a shameful secret, and she whispered softly.

—I, too, have a fetish I cannot speak of to others.

A fetish. My god, a fetish! At that intimate confession, Owen’s breathing grew ragged. He swore, his voice trembling with excitement.

—Just give the command. If it pleases you, I will gladly perform any act!

The Queen smiled, as if already satisfied, and tilted his chin up with the tip of the medicine vial.

—I’m tired of men with thoughts and wills of their own. I want a slave who cannot move an inch for me. Especially in bed.

In that moment, Owen’s eyes flashed like those of a religious fanatic. This was, without a doubt, a divine revelation meant for him.

—Then I am indeed the perfect slave for you.

To his mind, he had finally found his perfect Queen.

—My Queen, I have no ego, no will. While you use me, I will stay as still as a corpse, without twitching a single finger.

However, the Queen narrowed her eyes as if he were still lacking.

—’Acting’ as if you’re asleep isn’t enough.

Rattle.

Her Majesty shook the medicine vial like a crack of a whip. Owen did not hesitate further. He tossed the pills into his mouth and swallowed, willingly submitting to her absolute command.

He crawled onto the bed and lay down, his body trembling slightly with anticipation. Just imagining his Queen personally bestowing a blessing upon his swollen member made him feel as if he might climax then and there.

—Please… leave traces of your presence on my body. Let me taste the joy… of discovering… exactly how you played with me… once I wake from this sweet slumber.

His speech began to drag. His consciousness was melting away. Owen did not resist the sleep his master had ordered. Anticipating the secret violations Lady Evelyn would perform while he drifted, he gladly let go of his awareness.

Once the snoring of the dead-asleep man became rhythmic, Eve let out a long, held breath.

I succeeded in putting him under. Thanks to a scenario tailored perfectly to the habits of that paraphilic.

But it was too early to celebrate. A greater obstacle remained.

Now was the time for stage direction. When he woke tomorrow morning, she had to ensure that the room and his body were perfectly manipulated to make him believe he had spent the night in passion with Eve.

Must I really go this far? Just how much further am I going to fall?

Eve pressed a hand to her forehead as a sudden, distant sense of self-loathing washed over her.

Get a grip. You cannot survive among these demons as a noble lady.

Scolding herself sternly, she reached for the waist of the sleeping Owen. Just as she unbuckled his belt.

Thump, thump.

A knock so loud it threatened to break the door interrupted her. She ignored it, thinking whoever it was would leave if she pretended no one was there.

Thump, thump-thump.

But the visitor would not leave. It would be a disaster if Owen woke up.

Eve sighed and approached the door. She had an ominous feeling about this visitor. She hooked the security chain first, then slid the door open just a crack.

Through the narrow gap, the first thing that caught her eye was the cool, blue-gray of an Air Force officer’s uniform. Eve’s heart plummeted to the floor.