Gregor's patience was clearly limited. With no further sign from Duke Reinhardt, and unsettled by the strange attention surrounding Elara, his volatile mix of fear, greed, and malice finally erupted.
One evening, using the excuse of checking the guards on the camp's edge, Gregor summoned Elara alone to a more secluded corner, far from the firelight.
"Elara," Gregor's voice was low, laced with false affability, but the glint in his small eyes betrayed his true intentions. "These past few days... His Grace the Duke seems... somewhat different towards you?"
Elara's heart sank. She knew this was coming. She lowered her head, her voice trembling. "Steward... I don't understand what you mean... I... I am just a lowly serf..."
"Hmph! Stop playing dumb with me!" Gregor's patience snapped instantly, the false mask torn away, revealing his hideous true face. "Don't think I don't know! A man like His Grace, why would he notice you repeatedly for no reason?! Speak! What sly tricks did you use to seduce the Duke?!"
"I didn't!" Elara denied hastily, her voice filled with panic. "Steward, I truly did nothing! I don't even dare look His Grace in the face..."
"Still dare to argue!" Gregor lunged forward, grabbing Elara's shoulder and slamming her hard against the cold tree trunk. "You bitch! Do you think latching onto the Duke means you can disregard me?! Let me tell you, even if His Grace has some interest in you, it's just a passing fancy! You're nothing but a plaything! And I am the one who decides whether you live or die!"
His grip was immense, bruising Elara's shoulder. His greasy face was too close, his foul breath almost hitting her face.
Frightened and furious, Elara struggled. "Let go of me! You lie! I don't even know the Duke!"
"Don't know him?" Gregor sneered. "If you don't know him, why would he 'save' you multiple times? Why would he look at you specifically? I see you refuse the easy way!"
With that, he raised his hand, clearly intending to strike her!
At that critical moment!
An ice-cold voice sounded again, without warning, carrying a chilling calm:
"Oh? What do you intend to do with 'my' property?"
Gregor froze instantly! His face looked as if he'd seen a ghost. Slowly, stiffly, he turned his head.
Duke Reinhardt stood silently in the shadows a few steps away, like an emperor of the night. Moonlight outlined the harsh profile of his face, his eyes gleaming colder than ice in the darkness.
"Your... Your Grace..." Gregor's voice trembled uncontrollably. He immediately released Elara, scrambling to kneel.
But this time, the Duke gave him no chance.
The Duke's figure blurred like a phantom. The next second, he was standing right in front of Gregor!
No one saw how he did it!
There was only a soft crack!
Gregor's neck was effortlessly caught in the Duke's hand!
Gregor's eyes bulged wide, filled with utter terror and disbelief! He clawed futilely at the iron grip, guttural, dying gasps escaping his throat, his feet kicking weakly on the ground.
Elara stared, stunned by the horrific scene! She watched Gregor, so arrogant moments ago, dangling like a chicken with its neck wrung, utterly powerless in the Duke's grasp!
The Duke's face remained expressionless, as if he held not a living man, but an inconvenient object. His cold eyes didn't even glance at the struggling Gregor. Instead... they slowly turned towards Elara, who stood beside them, pale and trembling.
His gaze held a chilling scrutiny and... an inexplicable, almost playful "interest."
He seemed to be observing her reaction to this extreme fear and violence.
Meeting those eyes, Elara felt her blood freeze! She wanted to scream, to run, but her body was rooted to the spot, unable to move!
"You," the Duke finally spoke, his voice still low and steady, yet like the whisper of death, "seemed... quite defiant just now?"
He was asking her?! In this situation?!
Elara's mind went blank. She could only shake her head desperately, tears streaming uncontrollably down her face.
The Duke watched the mixture of fear and tears in her eyes, yet noted the tiny spark of defiance that still hadn't been completely extinguished. His lips seemed... to curve upwards, almost imperceptibly? The curve was so slight, less a smile and more... the cruel amusement of a predator finding interesting prey.
"Interesting," he murmured, as if to himself.
Then, the hand gripping Gregor's neck tightened slightly!
Gregor let out a more strangled, dying gasp, seemingly about to expire!
But just then, as if suddenly losing interest, the Duke tossed Gregor aside like a piece of trash!
Gregor collapsed on the ground, coughing violently, gasping for air, tears and snot streaming down his face, his eyes filled with the ecstatic relief of survival and bone-deep terror towards the Duke.
The Duke didn't spare Gregor another glance. His gaze returned to Elara.
He walked towards her, slowly, step by step.
Terrified, Elara stumbled backward until her back hit the cold tree trunk again, trapped.
The Duke stopped before her, his tall figure completely overshadowing her. He reached out—the hand in the black glove—and once again tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his eyes.
This time, his gaze held more than just scrutiny and assessment. It held... a darker, more blatant... possessiveness!
He looked at her eyelashes trembling with fear, at the lingering tears in her eyes, at her lips, slightly parted in terror, looking exceptionally vulnerable...
Then, before Elara could react, he lowered his head. His lips, cold and hard like sculpted ice, carrying the faint roughness of calluses... bit down, hard, on Elara's soft lower lip, almost like a punishment, an act of claiming ownership!
"Ngh!"
Elara let out a muffled cry of pain. The metallic taste of blood instantly filled her mouth!
This sudden "kiss"—if it could even be called that—filled with aggression and pain, completely shattered all of Elara's absurd fantasies about a "white knight"!
Fear washed over her like a tsunami!
This man! This man was utterly insane! A monster!