Chapter 1
The Monster’s Castle
“How disgusting. If I were her, I’d just kill myself. This isn’t the first time she’s traded her body for status. In fact, she’s no better than a high-class prostitute.”
“Hush! Someone will hear you. Remember that she’ll soon be a duchess.”
Liliette’s steps faltered just before reaching the carriage. Though whispered, the gossip was loud enough for all to hear. She lowered her eyes, clutching her pure white dress tightly in her fists. Her father, Shylock Isles, prodded her sharply with his cane, urging her forward.
“Stop dawdling and get in. You don’t want to be late meeting your new husband, do you?” he said impatiently. As always, he showed little interest in confronting those who insulted his daughter.
Shylock’s silver hair was impeccably styled, not a strand out of place. His clothes draped perfectly over his gaunt frame—crisp, spotless, and devoid of wrinkles. As he watched his daughter climb into the carriage, alone and without an escort, his gaze was as frigid as the early morning air. When her nursemaid tried to follow, he blocked her path with his cane.
“Watch her closely,” he instructed sternly. “Until she bears the Duke’s child, she must not die, be injured, or fall into disgrace.”
“I understand, Master Isles,” the nursemaid replied, bowing her head. The carriage door closed behind her with a frosty thud.
Throughout the long, silent weeks of travel, the two women spoke only when absolutely necessary. Liliette whiled away the hours gazing out the window, her eyes drifting over the barren winter landscape, devoid of sunlight. As their destination finally came into view, the nursemaid broke the silence.
“It’s remarkable that a noble house is willing to take in a woman who has been married twice. You should be grateful. From now on, you must behave like a doll. A woman who obeys is loved—even by her mother-in-law.”
Liliette’s lips curved into a faint smirk. “Some people will always hate you no matter what you do, even if you grovel at their feet.”
Her mind drifted back to the day of her former husband’s funeral, when her mother-in-law had lunged at her with an unexpected ferocity that belied her fragile appearance.
* * *
“You accursed widow! It’s your fault my son is dead!” the Viscountess spat. She knocked Liliette to the ground with a swift motion, viciously pulling her hair. “I should have never allowed my son to marry a common widow, no matter how wealthy you are! Die! Die and bring my son back to life, you wretch!”
As Liliette endured the assault and furious screams in silence, her younger brother Crocus burst into the room. He yanked the Viscountess away from his sister, who stumbled but quickly regained her footing.
“You mad old hag!“ he shouted. “How can you blame my sister for your sickly son’s death?”
“How dare you call him sickly, you lowly commoner!” the Viscountess retorted angrily.
Realizing she couldn’t overpower him, she snatched up her discarded cane. As Liliette quickly threw herself between them to shield her brother, the cane struck her face with a sickening crack, stars exploding in her vision. Ignoring the pain ringing in her head, she steadied herself and grasped Crocus’s arm.
“Stop, Rocky,” she pleaded. “Please, calm down.”
Maidservants clad in mourning clothes rushed into the room, supporting the wailing Viscountess as they glared at Liliette. With her head bowed like a common criminal, Liliette avoided their eyes, keeping a firm hold on Crocus to stop him from losing his temper. When the servants finally escorted the Viscountess out and the door slammed shut behind them, Crocus spun Liliette around, his face twisted in anger. Her hair was a mess, her lip split, and her cheek swollen, a bruise already forming around her eye where the cane had struck.
“Why did you stop me?” he demanded. “A few hits from an old woman’s cane would hardly have caused any damage!”
“Even if I managed to escape her wrath this time, I would have had to face it eventually. I couldn’t let you take the fall.”
“You always do this. Is enduring the only thing you know how to do?”
“Aren’t you glad that at least one of us has patience?”
As Crocus ran a hand through his hair in exasperation, the door burst open again. He turned around sharply, his eyes widening.
“Father.”
Liliette, who had managed to remain calm even in the face of her mother-in-law’s fury, stiffened at the sight of their father. By contrast, Crocus seemed relieved by his presence.
“Please call for a healer, Father. The Viscountess just attacked Liliette.”
“I’ll take care of it, Rocky. Now leave us, and make sure no one disturbs us while I speak with your sister.”
Crocus nodded. Liliette wanted to reach out and stop him from leaving, but the thought of depending on her younger brother made her feel pathetic, so she took a deep breath instead. As the door shut behind him with a clack, the atmosphere in the drawing room grew as heavy as the depths of the ocean. Liliette’s shoulders tensed as she faced her father’s sharp gaze through his monocle.
Shylock tapped his black cane against his palm. “Prepare for your next marriage as soon as we return. I’ve already arranged the match. I’ll also summon a premium healer to remove that scar from your face.”
“Pardon?” Liliette gasped, feeling as though someone had struck her with a sledgehammer this time. Struggling to maintain her composure, she continued, “You’re doing this again? Do you realize what day it is today? My husband hasn’t even been in the ground for an hour.”
Shylock raised an eyebrow, clearly irritated. “Precisely. What better day than today? It’s the day you became a widow once again without having borne a son. I concluded the arrangements with the Viscount’s family the day your husband died. They have no intention of keeping a childless commoner in their family.”
“The day Jannik died? So, you decided everything last week, once again without consulting me…” Liliette trailed off, her lips turning pale. She could see from her father’s demeanor that there was no hope, yet a desperate voice rose from deep within her. “What if I say no?”
Shylock scowled in disbelief. “Don’t tell me you’ve grown attached to a man you lived with for just a year—a man who, even when bedridden, poured boiling water on you to torture you.”
Trembling, Liliette clenched her fists. “How can you put me through this again, knowing everything I’ve endured? It’s too much, Father.”
“If you don’t marry into a noble family, we’ll be reduced to commoners once again. Do you want to see us stripped of all the guild’s wealth because of those status restrictions?”
“You could find a noble family to guarantee our credit. In fact, I can do that. You know how much I’ve contributed to the guild’s success. I managed the gemstone mining business from start to finish—”
“Which is precisely why you must marry. Are you really that dense?” Shylock interrupted, pointing his cane at her. “That gemstone business you just mentioned—do you think there aren’t countless vultures eyeing it? We’ll be stripped of everything and cast onto the streets before we can even secure a guarantor, just like when you were a child.”
Shylock’s eyes gleamed as Liliette froze, drawing in a sharp breath. He knew her weaknesses all too well.
“Your young siblings have never known poverty,” he continued. “They have depended solely on you since their mother died. Do you want them to experience hunger and misery? Even the youngest, who is only fifteen?”
Liliette’s shoulders slumped in defeat, a reaction that did not escape Shylock’s notice.
“If you still refuse, I’ll call off the marriage. I can’t force my daughter to go against her will.”
“What if I truly am cursed?” whispered Liliette. “What if my new husband dies too?”
“Then you must bear a child as quickly as possible. It doesn’t matter if your husband has one eye, is covered in boils, or has the head of a toad. You can tolerate an ugly face, can’t you? You’ve endured far worse. Once you have a child, you’ll secure your place as a noblewoman, and there’ll be no need for a fourth marriage.”
* * *
The last image Liliette recalled was of Shylock stroking his chin. To him, she was no different from a broodmare or a hen on a poultry farm; her sole purpose was to bear a nobleman’s child.
As she looked out the carriage window, lost in thought, she muttered to herself, “Why do men like doing that?”
At the sound of her voice, the nursemaid looked up at her delicate profile, clouded with worry as she gazed out at the night scenery.
“Women don’t feel any pleasure or anything, do they?” Liliette mused aloud. “During that first night… it was all just pain. It would be nice if there were another way to conceive children.”
“That’s not for you to worry about, my lady. Noblemen don’t want their wives to act like courtesans. You should know this, having married into nobility twice,” the nursemaid replied, crossing herself with a frown of disapproval. “Whatever you do, do not say such things in front of your new husband. You know of the Duke’s reputation, don’t you?”
“I know he’s a war hero who conquered four kingdoms.”
“Yes, and he’s a bastard with the blood of a lascivious demon who seduced the former emperor. Imagine what kind of cruelty he must be capable of.”
Liliette let out a dry laugh. “Then he might actually like me. After all, I am an impure, sacrilegious woman, as people say.”
The nursemaid fidgeted with her rosary, a sign that she was holding back a reprimand. Liliette pretended not to notice. Though she knew her nursemaid’s temperament and mannerisms all too well, she had started the conversation anyway due to her extreme anxiety about being sent to the estate of a man she had never properly met.
“They say he despises the imperial family, the gods, and priests,” the nursemaid cautioned. “You’ll have to be very careful with your words. I’ve even heard that he likes to eat human flesh and has the appearance of a monster…”
Liliette could sense her nursemaid’s anticipation that she might share details of the Duke’s appearance, but she remained silent. The truth was, she had yet to catch a glimpse of the man. After the incident in the chapel, she had woken up to find it was morning. Someone had bathed her, and a bowl of warm soup and other dishes were thoughtfully prepared for her, but her new husband was nowhere to be seen.
Her thoughts drifted to their encounter and the sharp, sinful pleasure that had overwhelmed her senses. She couldn’t help but wonder: did other women experience this too? Was that what intimacy was supposed to be like?
But she soon felt ashamed of her curiosity, and she turned her gaze to the window once more. It was common knowledge that the purer a woman’s soul, the less she felt sexual desire. The mere fact of having experienced that feeling—one she had never known in her previous two marriages—made her feel like the filthy woman everyone claimed she was.
Suddenly, her thoughts were interrupted by the shouts of the mercenaries hired to escort them.
“It’s a monster! Damn it! What’s it doing on the way to the Duke’s castle?” one mercenary yelled.
“It’s your fault! We shouldn’t have agreed to escort a cursed woman, even for extra pay!” another shot back.
A chilling, beastly howl pierced the air, followed by the panicked neighs of the horses. Moments later, the pitch-black forest erupted into chaos. The carriage lurched as if the wheels had come loose, tipping dangerously toward Liliette’s side. She and the nursemaid screamed as they were thrown from the carriage.
Liliette barely registered the pain from hitting the ground or scraping her hands on the dirt. Suddenly, a sharp pain flared across her scalp as someone yanked her hair violently.
“Ouch! What are you doing?” she cried out.
“This woman summoned the monster! We must kill her to get rid of it!” the mercenary shouted.
“Are you out of your mind? She’s the Duchess! At this rate, we’ll end up dead because of you, not the monster!” the other shouted back.
“Whether we die by the Duke’s hand or the monster’s, I just want to survive!”
Liliette couldn’t make sense of the mayhem, let alone put up a struggle. Her vision darkened, and the tumult around her—the frantic neighing of horses, the shouts of mercenaries, and the roars of the monster—felt like a battlefield. Amidst the chaos, a rough hand seized her hair, shaking her like a rag doll. It felt as if her scalp might tear off.
Liliette flailed, desperately grabbing her captor’s coarse wrist. But his grip, fueled by panic, showed no signs of loosening. Ignoring the protests of his comrades, he drew a dagger, preparing to plunge it into her neck. The blade glinted coldly in the moonlight.
“Wait…!” she cried, a chill coursing through her.
Is this how I die?
Just as that thought crossed her mind, she heard something slicing through the air. In that instant, the man with the dagger froze.