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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Chaos
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Three signs of love.
Saying “I love you.”
Kissing gently.
And treating me with warmth.
Perhaps these signs, gleaned from romance guides and wives’ gossip, were nothing but fantasy?
Perhaps all wives were equally beaten and treated miserably by their husbands and simply put on a brave face at tea parties to protect their pride?
This was the question that had plagued me since the first time my husband struck me.
He was only interested in my appearance, but he seemed to have no interest in me as a person.
He was more interested in my breasts than the bruises on my face, and he spent more time spreading my legs and demanding to know what my family was doing for him than whispering sweet nothings.
It had been a long time since I’d heard from my family.
The man who married my eldest sister was a relative of the hero.
A disgraced official banished to the countryside for bribery was worth less compared to a relative of the hero.
The occasional letters stopped, and the monthly allowance ceased.
When the money stopped, he became even more violent.
Having lost his connections, he devoted his time to beating me, forcing himself on me, and drinking himself into a stupor.
Bruises often bloomed on my face.
He beat me with his belt and lashed out with his fists at the slightest provocation.
Every time I was struck, I would recall memories of the time when I was called “My Lady.”
‘You’re a beautiful young lady, so you’ll find a good husband.’
A lie.
‘I hear he’s a promising official in the capital. He’ll treat you well, and though he’s a bit older, he’s a good man.’
A lie.
It was all a lie.
Even when I married a man much older than myself, I believed it was for the good of my family.
Even when he beat me, I endured it for my family, believing that someone would eventually save me.
‘My Lady, you’re so beautiful! I’m so envious. I wish I could marry into such a family!’
A lie.
I had tried so hard.
I suppressed my anger and believed that better days would come.
But after being exiled to the countryside and realizing that my family had abandoned me, nothing stirred within my heart.
Perhaps I had given up.
Perhaps I had prematurely concluded that heartwarming love stories didn’t exist.
In the end, wasn’t everything someone else’s affair?
Even if the hero saved the world, even if the Demon King was slain, even if I prayed to the gods, nothing changed.
All the glory belonged to others, and misfortune was my constant companion.
And then, Evan appeared.
Evan.
A gentle boy with messy brown hair and blue eyes that blinked innocently.
He reminded me of a lamb.
A docile lamb that would simply graze even as you stroked its head.
He was a punching bag for my husband’s stress, just like me, a slave beaten even more severely than I was.
I felt sorry for Evan, taking the beatings in my place, but also relieved.
After all, wasn’t such misfortune also someone else’s affair?
Rejoicing in another’s happiness wouldn’t make me happy, but interfering in another’s misfortune would only bring me more misfortune.
Perhaps that was why I had so thoroughly ignored Evan.
If I told him to stop hitting Evan, he would hit me instead.
If I was caught giving Evan anything, he would accuse me of having an affair with a slave and beat me.
I never thought Evan was pathetic.
He and I were both living domesticated lives.
Did you know what it meant to live a domesticated life?
My life was completely tailored to my husband’s whims; I was no different from a domesticated slave.
What difference was there between Evan, clinging to the bottom rung of this mansion, begging for scraps while being beaten, and me, turning a blind eye to everything, thinking that being a beaten wife was better than being a beggar on the streets?
We were both equally miserable, both destined to die bound by the shackles of misfortune.
One day, when he picked up a sharper weapon, or when he wanted to try something more cruel, when he was in a particularly foul mood, or when I happened to fall near the corner of a table, I would die.
I had always imagined the afterlife, but I had never envisioned a life of freedom.
Until that boy…
Until Evan kissed me and whispered words of life…
I was nothing but a corpse.
“I’ll protect you.”
So, that day…
The day everything changed, I encountered the three signs of love for the first time.
The voice whispering that he would protect me.
The soft caress of his tongue as he kissed me.
And the look in his eyes that hinted at love.
My heart raced.
Evan kept introducing me to the lewd acts I had always despised.
He touched my breasts, entwined his tongue with mine, and gently teased my most sensitive spots with his fingers.
It was a vulgar affair, but I enjoyed it.
Whenever Evan kissed me, my husband would fall asleep as if hypnotized.
The three annoying servants would become quiet as the dead.
Ever since Evan suddenly started using that strange power, a tranquil peace had settled over the mansion.
My husband falling asleep regularly, and me kissing a slave right in front of him.
The situation, arousing enough to make me wet just thinking about it, continued to intoxicate me.
The hand that had been caressing my breasts would move down to my ass, pressing between my legs with his knee or tracing my folds with his fingers, driving me wild.
At some point, I realized that a single kiss was no longer enough.
I craved something deeper and hotter. Something more vulgar and lewd.
I wanted him to set my lower body ablaze.
I wanted him to embrace me anew, in the very place where my husband had forced himself on me, and make me Evan’s woman.
Even if he was a slave, the brand of servitude didn’t suit the man who had saved me.
From the moment I entered this mansion, my life had been as good as over.
If he had breathed new life into me, shouldn’t I offer him everything I had?
The reason I hadn’t actively pursued Evan was Elena.
Elena.
The kind girl who always prayed that I wouldn’t lose my dignity as a noblewoman.
The girl who was always devoted to me, but ultimately powerless to stop my husband’s violence.
I didn’t want to show her me having sex with a slave.
She was a maid from a respectable noble family.
How devastated would she be when she realized that the person she had always respected as a dignified mistress had fallen so far?
I didn’t want to see Elena sad.
I didn’t want to see that innocent girl suffer any more than she already had.
Yes.
I hadn’t.
Until one quiet day in the mansion…
Until I encountered Elena outside the bathroom door…
I had believed that she was living a truly virtuous and steadfast life for my sake.
Now, I sat in my room, rocking in my chair and recalled that moment.
It was shortly after lunch.
I had wanted some tea, and I searched every place she might be, from Elena’s room to the kitchen.
The last place I looked, unable to find her anywhere in the mansion, was the bathroom.
Splash-splash-splash-
Hearing the splashing sounds from inside, I called her name.
“Elena.”
“Eek! Ah, ugh…! M-Mistress?”
Elena.
You pretended nothing was wrong, but I saw your clothes neatly folded on the bathroom floor, and Evan’s clothes carelessly tossed beside them.
Even you, who had acted so high and mighty, pretending to uphold your family’s honor, were just a lewd woman who had slept with a man.
The image you had maintained, distancing yourself from a slave to protect your dignity, was all an act.
While I was agonizing over my dignity and chastity as a noblewoman, you were wearing a mask and enjoying yourself with Evan.
So, I think I felt a little… annoyed.
“Elena, what are you doing?”
“Ah…! W-well…! Ugh…! I was… cleaning…! Ah…!”
“Cleaning, you say. You must be busy. Shall I help you?”
I reached for the doorknob, but I had no intention of opening the door.
But you must have been afraid that I would actually open it, because you started splashing loudly.
“N-no, Mistress! Ah, ugh…! Hngh…!”
Did you really think I wouldn’t notice, hearing those whimpers and moans?
“Alright. I understand. I’ll be going then.”
I said that and didn’t move.
But you must have thought I had actually left, because you started having sex with Evan again, without a care in the world.
“Ah! Ugh! Hngh! Haah! Ahh!”
The splashing sounds echoed.
“If the Mistress hears us…! Ah…! What are we going to do…! Hnnn…! Aah…!”
Splash-splash-
“You wouldn’t be clenching like this if you didn’t like it.”
Splash-splash-
“Ah! Aah! D-don’t poke me there…!”
Splash-splash-
“Ah…! Aaaah! Aaaaaaaaaah…!”
The sound of something sinking beneath the water.
I blushed and suppressed the urge to open the bathroom door.
And now, I sat in my room, rocking in my chair, consumed by lewd thoughts.
While Elena was away at the market, and Evan and I were alone in the mansion… I was devising a plan I could only carry out now.
I wanted to cross the line, just like Elena, and indulge in pleasure.
I wanted to experience happiness in the arms of the one I loved most.
So, I opened the door and called Evan’s name.
“Evan.”
You, Evan, as if you knew what I was going to say, grinned and walked up from downstairs.
Blushing, I said in a haughty tone,
“Come up to my room.”
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