Chapter 30

Knock, knock. The hefty door emitted a muffled thud, resonating quietly through the space. Receiving no response from within, Elena persisted with another gentle rap on the door. Silence prevailed, yet a palpable awareness told her that Kennard lingered inside. Even from outside, she could discern the faint trace of his pheromones. A nervous swallow betrayed her apprehension.

Interpreting the lack of response as a desire for solitude, Elena hesitated on the verge of departure. Just as the decision hung in the air, a decisive command shattered the stillness. “Come in.” Kennard’s voice, a welcome but tense summons, emanated from within. Relief washed over Elena, but tension lingered in her frame.

Entering cautiously, Elena found Kennard at a desk, engrossed in scrutinizing documents. Her eyes lingered on him, head bowed in contemplation. The lamp’s glow cast elusive shadows on his face, rendering his expression inscrutable. His glossy black hair caught glimmers of light, and the absence of a jacket revealed a powerful, muscular upper body. A few undone buttons exposed long scars on his neck and chest, previously unseen by Elena. While logical given his wartime and White Fox Tribe encounters, the revelation of new scars weighed heavily on her heart.

“What is it?” Kennard’s attention remained fixed on the documents as he spoke. Elena intertwined her fingers within the long sleeves, mustering determination as she clasped her hands together.

“I came to make a request,” she said, her words hanging in the air. Kennard maintained his silence, engrossed in the papers spread before him. The tension in the room escalated, and Elena, despite the unease in her chest, reassured herself that she had made the right choice.

“I’m planning to visit the village with Mr. Leto tomorrow,” she continued, her voice breaking the silence.

Kennard’s fingertips momentarily halted in their task of signing the papers. His amber eyes, reminiscent of flames, slowly rose to meet Elena’s gaze. As his scrutiny bore down on her, Elena’s shoulders involuntarily slumped, feeling the weight of his intense stare.

“The village? Why? If you need something, just tell me. I’ll buy it for you,” Kennard offered, his voice cutting through the stillness.

“No, it’s not that…” Elena began, her throat tight despite her resolve. “I want to leave the castle and live in the village.”

Kennard’s raised eyebrow, accompanied by the subtle movement of a long scar from his forehead to his eyelid, betrayed his surprise. “Why?”

“I feel like I’m causing too much trouble for His Grace. I can’t repay this favor right away, but I thought of finding work and repaying little by little…”

“You’ve never been a burden, and I’ve never asked you to repay anything. If you’re going to talk about such useless things, just leave,” Kennard dismissed her words, lowering his head back to the documents as if ending the conversation.

“I… I feel uncomfortable,” Elena admitted.

Thunk. The feather-adorned pen collided forcefully with the desk. “Elena!” Kennard’s voice resonated with a low, sinking intensity. A sudden surge of pheromones enveloped the room, stifling the air and making each breath challenging. Elena, caught in the tense atmosphere, found even the act of blinking awkward. Holding their joined hands with increased tension, she struggled to maintain clarity amid Kennard’s overpowering scent.

“Continuing this lifestyle that doesn’t suit my station, it keeps bothering me. Clothes, food, even Cura’s assistance is too much for me,” she confessed, her words carrying a weight that seemed to hang in the air. Fearing that she might falter if she stopped talking, Elena continued to ramble, uncertain if Kennard truly comprehended her sentiments.

“You must have heard about the old scars on my body. You saw when the White Fox tribe attacked last time. I must have been a fleeing prisoner or a slave. Otherwise, it wouldn’t make sense for my body to be like this.”

“Enough!” Kennard’s abrupt shout cut through her words. “I’ve never said a word about your status. But why are you so concerned about it?”

“It bothers me. I can’t understand why I receive such care from His Grace. I feel even more uneasy because I don’t know why he does so much for me,” Elena confessed, her body trembling with vulnerability. As she spoke, she sensed the pitiful nature of her situation, akin to a child whining for understanding.

“However, I’ll repay this favor no matter what. So please permit me not to be indebted to you any further, Your Grace.”

“No.”

“Your Grace!”

“If it can’t be done, then it can’t.” Kennard’s face froze with cold determination, his gaze cutting through the air like a deadly weapon. Elena clenched her fingers so tightly that her nails dug into the back of her hand.

“Am I just a servant or a mere laborer in your eyes?” Elena hesitated before voicing her inner turmoil. Though reluctant to utter such words, she recognized that failure to do so might jeopardize the purpose of her visit and the pretext for leaving the castle.

“What?” Kennard’s glare bore into her with evident disdain. “Have I ever treated you like a servant or a lowly worker?” he retorted sharply.

“Am I a slave then?” 

“What on earth are you trying to say?” Kennard’s expression turned colder, his voice gradually lowering. The shift in tone was more unnerving to Elena than when he raised his voice, a signal that he was suppressing his anger.

Kennard’s pheromones thickened, their weight constricting Elena’s throat. She averted her gaze, staring through the floor as she swallowed hard, determined not to show further signs of trembling. Calming herself, she slowly lifted her head, meeting Kennard’s gaze directly.

“I am not someone belonging to you, Your Grace. So, even if I decide to leave this castle, you have no right to stop me.” Elena asserted herself, speaking firmly. Sensing a need to escape, she continued, “If you don’t want me to live in the village, I’ll go to another area. Thank you so much for everything.” Elena bowed toward Kennard and swiftly turned away, demonstrating no intention of awaiting his response. She simply sought to leave this place behind.

With a door conveniently positioned right behind her, all she needed to do was turn the handle and usher herself into freedom. As the handle yielded to her touch, the thick door swung open without a creak, maintaining a ghostly silence.

Just as she poised to cross the threshold, a sudden, thunderous bang echoed through the office. A forceful wind surged from behind, causing the door to slam shut abruptly. The air resonated with the sound as if a storm had erupted within those confined walls. Startled, Elena found herself rooted in place, her heart plummeting before launching into a frenetic rhythm.

Swift as lightning, Kennard had approached from his chair and sealed the door behind Elena. More astonishing to her than the door’s loud closure was the revelation that Kennard had been right on her heels. She could feel his racing heartbeat and elevated body temperature against her back. Awkwardly, she turned her head like a rigid puppet, fixing her gaze on Kennard’s arm now anchoring the door with his palm. Trapped between the imposing door and Kennard’s sturdy frame, she found herself immobilized.

 Kennard’s voice, dripping with anger, pierced through the silence. “Are you defying my orders and attempting an escape?” His breath washed over Elena’s head as she, attempting to maneuver around him, was further impeded by his arm encircling her waist, thwarting her every move.

The tightly pressed bodies left no room for negotiation, anger palpable in the air. “Your Grace, please release me,” she implored.

Elena found herself unable to discern Kennard’s expression as he loomed behind her. While she had anticipated some resistance to her desire to leave the castle for the village, the vehement opposition took her by surprise. A veil of frustration cloaked her as she grappled with the question: Why was he behaving this way?

The query lingered unanswered, for Kennard remained reticent. The lack of explanation intensified Elena’s sense of suffocation, the weight of her frustration bearing down on her.

“You are neither my servant nor a slave,” Kennard’s voice, a gentle yet commanding whisper, reached her ears, sending a shiver down her spine. His breath, a tangible presence against her ear, left her speechless, as if an invisible force had sealed her lips.

“But…” Elena attempted to voice her thoughts, only to be met with Kennard’s abrupt silence, elongating the breathless pause. The moment hung heavy, filled only with the quiet tension between them.

“You belong to me. Don’t think you can escape from me,” Kennard’s words, delivered with unwavering determination, left Elena bewildered. 

“But you…”

“You are mine. The only one who can have you is me.”