Chapter 035. Nightmare
As it happened—
That thought flashed through her mind in an instant.
Unfortunately, it seemed that the person standing before her had been assigned this very room.
The count was visibly, unmistakably drunk.
His staggering body, flushed nose, leering grin, and that unsettling gaze.
Deborah instinctively sensed that this situation was dangerous.
But she couldn’t afford to act in a way that would openly offend or provoke him.
She had to escape this situation as naturally as possible.
Deborah took a slow, deep breath and returned the crystal bottle she was holding to its original place.
Then, she slowly walked toward the trolley.
“My apologies. The cleaning has only just finished…”
She bowed politely to convey her apology, but the count merely stared at her.
“Then, rest well—”
“Aren’t you a parlormaid?”
Eager to leave quickly, she was hurrying to finish her farewell when the count cut her off abruptly.
He was likely recalling the time she had guided him while dressed as a parlormaid.
It was extremely rare for someone to go from parlormaid to chambermaid.
Deborah hesitated for a moment before responding.
“Not long ago… my duties changed.”
“Is that so?”
“Then, I’ll take my leave—”
“You looked good in that pretty maid’s uniform, but this… well, it’s not bad either, I suppose.”
“…”
His gaze, appraising her body from head to toe, made her hair stand on end.
“Of course, I much preferred that scantily clad look from the other day.”
As he said this, the count took a bold step forward.
Startled, Deborah instinctively took a step back.
In that moment, the air in the room shifted.
A precarious tension, like that of a predator and prey, spread thickly throughout the space.
With a sneer, the count bared his yellowed teeth in a repulsive grin.
“You sure know how to whet a man’s appetite.”
“…”
“A good quarry should struggle lively to stir the hunter’s hunger, after all.”
Like a beast herding its prey, the count slowly closed the distance step by step, causing Deborah to clench her fists tightly.
“I’ll take my leave now.”
“What’s the rush? I was just feeling bored—why don’t you keep me company for a bit?”
“…”
His sleazy demeanor, barely concealing his vile intentions, made her stomach churn.
“Think about it. How well you please me tonight could change the course of your life.”
Now standing close enough to breathe down her neck, the count no longer bothered to hide his dark desires.
Deborah shuddered at his blatant, ugly lust and glared at him directly.
“I am not that kind of woman.”
“…What?”
“I am a maid employed by the Cheister family, not some… bedchamber attendant.”
Her firm, direct words caused the count’s expression to change in an instant.
The playful, amused atmosphere vanished, replaced by a grotesque face stained with excitement and anger as he glared at Deborah.
“I thought you were docile, but how dare you act so insolent…”
Sensing danger in his rapidly contorting face, Deborah instinctively moved forward.
Her only thought was to escape this place before something horrific happened; the etiquette owed to a guest of the Cheister family had long since vanished from her mind.
But as she tried to flee, the count grabbed her hair in an instant.
With a cry of pain, Deborah’s body was yanked backward, and when she came to, she felt the hard mattress against her back.
“You insolent wretch, how dare you, ignorant of your place, say you’re not that kind of woman?!”
“No, stop it!”
“Don’t you lowborn maids all end up as men’s playthings? One lift of your skirt could change your fate, you foolish thing, and yet you don’t know your place. Stay still!”
*Slap!*
As she struggled fiercely to fend off the count trying to tear off her clothes, a sudden, tremendous impact struck her face.
The force of the blow, delivered with all his strength, made her head spin, and a ringing filled her ears.
As hot blood trickled from her nose, the strength in Deborah’s resisting body gave out for a moment.
As her struggles subsided, the count, panting heavily, hurriedly began lifting her skirt.
‘Ah…’
Even as her vision blurred, Deborah fought to stay conscious, her body twitching with effort.
Her sight gradually cleared.
Her skirt was now pulled up to her waist, and she saw the count, straddling her, fumbling to undo his trousers.
Deborah realized this was her chance. Her one and only chance.
As the count focused on undoing his trousers, she summoned all her strength and drove her knee upward.
‘Argh!’
The moment her knee struck him squarely between the legs, a sound like a beast having its throat slit echoed loudly through the room.
Deborah shoved the count, who was clutching his groin and writhing in pain, and quickly scrambled off the bed.
Without a thought to fix her disheveled appearance, she ran frantically, flung open the door, and dashed down the corridor.
Her only thought was to get away from that beastly man as quickly as possible—nothing else entered her mind.
But something about the blow she’d taken must have been wrong, because as she ran, a wave of nausea suddenly hit her.
Unable to hold it back, she grabbed the corridor railing and retched violently.
How long had she been vomiting, as if her insides were being torn out?
Exhausted and gasping for breath, Deborah’s ears caught the sound of heavy footsteps thundering down the corridor.
Turning her head, she saw the count, like a ghostly figure, charging toward her from the far end of the hallway.
‘Get up… quickly, quickly, get up…’
She tried to pull herself up, clutching the railing again and again, her body refusing to obey.
Just as she managed to stand and take a step forward—
“You wench!”
With a venomous curse, her hair was seized once more.
Her body fell backward, and the count, grabbing her with his other hand, dragged her back down the path they’d come.
“No, let go!”
“Stay still!”
As Deborah struggled desperately not to be dragged, the count shook her hair even harder.
The pain, as if her hair were being ripped out, brought tears streaming down her cheeks.
‘What do I do? What now…’
The fear that she might be dragged back to that room gnawed at her heart.
“Count!”
A familiar voice suddenly rang out.
The count’s movements stopped, and Deborah lifted her head toward the sound.
There stood Lady Charlotte, her face filled with shock.
Relief washed over Deborah, and tears streamed down her cheeks.
‘Now that Lady Charlotte is here, someone to help has come. I’m saved’
Sobbing quietly, she thought.
“Good heavens… Count, what in the world…”
Approaching closer, Lady Charlotte, eyeing Deborah caught in the count’s grasp, couldn’t hide her horror.
“I don’t know what’s going on, but please let her go—”
Though unaware of the full story, Lady Charlotte, sharp as she was, could hardly miss the situation.
Thinking first to separate Deborah from the count, she stepped closer, but the count, already consumed by rage, seemed blind to everything.
“Let go, I say! How dare a mere housekeeper interfere!”
“…”
“Today, I’ll teach this insolent wench a lesson!”
“Count, please!”
Despite Lady Charlotte’s attempts to intervene, it seemed no one in the corridor could stop the count from dragging Deborah by her hair.
Struggling not to be pulled along, Deborah’s strength was already drained, and she had no energy left to resist.
Terrified and pale, she mustered her last bit of strength to reach for the hand gripping her hair.
At that moment—
“What is the meaning of this?”
The low, chilling voice froze everyone in place.
Deborah opened her tightly shut eyes and turned toward the sound.
Through her tear-blurred vision, at the end of the corridor stood that man.
The proud, beautiful Duke of Cheister with his blue eyes, utterly out of place in this sordid scene.
And so, to Deborah, this reality felt even more like a nightmare.
A horrific nightmare that would vanish without a trace upon waking.
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By Anna 💓
