Charlotte - Chapter 8

Crash!

A thunderous sound rang out, the kind that came only when something shattered completely.

Charlotte, who had been curled up at the edge of the bed, lost in thoughts of Leo ever since sending Ferndel away, turned her head toward the sudden commotion near the door.

That was when her eyes widened.

The very person who had consumed her thoughts was now storming into the room.

“Leo…?”

Charlotte shot to her feet. Through the narrow gap before the door fully closed, she caught a fleeting glimpse of Ferndel’s troubled expression. So much for his effort—he hadn’t even lasted a full day before being discovered.

Before she could fully process the situation, the door shut with finality. The only sound that remained in the now-silent room was the steady tapping of a cane against the floor.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

A rhythmic, measured sound, devoid of hesitation. And in between those beats, Leo moved with an unsettling confidence, as if he had memorized the layout of the room.

It was such a relief to see him move so surely. And that relief made her happy—so happy, in fact, that it hurt to realize this was something to be happy about at all.

Lost in the tangle of emotions, Charlotte watched his every step without so much as blinking.

“Come sit.”

She snapped out of her daze only when Leo stopped in front of the sofa in the center of the room.

“Now.”

There wasn’t even a moment’s pause before his firm command followed.

“…Did you miss me that much in just that short while?”

Charlotte let the wistful thought slip from her lips, disguising it as a lighthearted remark as she made her way to the sofa. She sat in a position where Leo could look directly at her.

“The meal will be served soon.”

As if sensing her movements, Leo spoke almost immediately.

“I made sure they prepared foods that won’t upset an empty stomach, so eat properly. The physician will be called again as well. I want you to be examined in my presence. I need to know exactly what condition you’re in.”

The harshness of his entrance and the coldness of his tone felt at odds with the undeniable care woven into his words.

Charlotte shook her head slightly, then hesitated, biting her lip before finally speaking.

“I was just a little exhausted, that’s all. There’s no need to be so worried. I know my own body—I just need a bit of rest, and I’ll be—”

“Do you think I’m doing this because I’m worried about you?”

A sharp, humorless laugh fell over her like a weight.

Worry.

Of course. It would be presumptuous to think that Leo Kartenon could ever feel something so trivial for Charlotte d’Ignator.

And yet… he had taken care to arrange her meals, to summon the physician again, to personally ensure her health.

Gripping the worn fabric of her dress, Charlotte wanted to ask—if this wasn’t worry, then what was it?

“You need to bear a healthy child.”

As if reading her unspoken question, Leo’s voice cut through the silence. Any trace of amusement had vanished, leaving only a chilling detachment.

“That body of yours will be the source of nourishment for my child. Do not neglect it.”

“…Ah.”

A quiet breath slipped from Charlotte’s lips.

It was an answer thorough enough to silence any lingering questions she had.

Charlotte froze, unable to open or close her mouth.

Her already pale complexion turned ghostly white. Her colorless fingers fidgeted with the hem of her dress, twisting and pulling at the fabric. It was a meaningless action—just the restless behavior of someone who suddenly found it impossible to stay still. Her hands, tense and desperate, sought something to grip, to tear at.

“If you’re willing to bear four, five children until a healthy one is born, then I suppose the conversation changes.”

Women rarely survived after bearing that many children. In most cases, once the number exceeded three, it wasn’t uncommon for households to lose their wives entirely. It wasn’t difficult to understand the implications behind Leo’s words.

But did that make her resent him? No, not quite.

Leo had every right to treat her however he pleased. A long time ago, she had been the one to grant him that right.

The only thing that truly stung was the realization of how foolish she had been—to speak of worry in front of a man who cared nothing for what happened to her.

Her complexion grew even paler. And perhaps that was why the next words slipped from her lips so suddenly, laced with a coldness she didn’t truly feel.

“You do realize children don’t just fall from the sky, don’t you?”

Leo tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable. He looked as if he were waiting—amused, even—for her to continue.

Encouraged by his leisurely attitude, Charlotte hesitated for a long moment before feigning indifference and adding,

“…Could you even bring yourself to kiss a woman you think isn’t even worth worrying about?”

At that, Leo burst into laughter.

It was a laugh so heavy that Charlotte’s head instinctively lowered under its weight.

“Kissing lips that I don’t know whose tongue has been inside of…?”

He spoke the words idly, without even attempting to hide them, making sure she heard every syllable.

Charlotte’s fingers clenched around the fabric of her dress again, twisting it between her trembling hands.

It was only after some time had passed that Leo finally moved.

His hand reached out, brushing against her shoulder before slowly trailing upward, following the curve of her neck. His fingertips barely grazed her earlobe before settling firmly against her cheek.

His words were cold. Indifferent.

But his hand was unbearably hot—like iron heated in a forge.

The warmth reminded her of Rosa’s spring, though it made no sense to be thinking of such things. A fleeting thought crossed her mind—could he be running a fever?

Leo’s fingers moved languidly, tracing small, almost ticklish motions against her pale cheek. And then, as if he had found his final destination, they came to a stop.

Right over her lips.

The rough joints of Leo’s fingers, hardened from years of wielding a sword, traced over the flushed skin of her lips, as if gauging their possibilities.

Charlotte held her breath, afraid that even the slightest exhale would make this dreamlike touch vanish like a passing breeze.

As if rewarding her for the effort, Leo’s fingers slowly pressed between her lips. A strange tension coiled in her toes, making them curl involuntarily.

Before long, the damp, soft flesh inside her mouth met his fingertips. Thick, calloused joints dragged across the delicate inner tissue, creating a searing friction wherever they passed.

It was a peculiar kind of ignition—heat blooming in every place he touched, despite there being no actual spark.

Like a tyrant expanding his empire, planting his flag upon new territory, Leo broadened the scope of his touch without hesitation.

It wasn’t long before he invaded beyond her teeth. Two straight fingers thrust deep inside, lodging firmly within her mouth.

“Mmph!”

Her tongue, unable to escape, tangled against his fingers. Charlotte, utterly at a loss, remained frozen, her mouth slack, filling with saliva.

Then, Leo applied more pressure. His fingers, now pressing against the sensitive membranes, pushed her tongue aside and rubbed deliberately against the inner walls of her mouth. It wasn’t just an exploration—it was an outright conquest. Every inch of her mouth was swept through and claimed.

“Ah… ngh…!”

A helpless, shameful whimper escaped before she could stop it.

At that moment, his fingernail scraped sharply against the roof of her mouth.

“Ah…!”

Whether it was the sound that displeased him or something else entirely, Leo withdrew his hand without the slightest hesitation, as if he had lost interest.

“Cough, cough!”

Charlotte instinctively followed after the retreating warmth with her tongue, but as soon as her head lowered, the breath she had been holding back rushed out all at once, forcing a fit of coughing.

Her lungs, swollen from the lack of air, ached with each ragged inhale. She coughed repeatedly, trying to steady herself. Just as her breathing finally began to settle—

Clang!

A sharp metallic noise slashed through the room.

Startled, Charlotte’s eyes darted toward the source—Leo’s cane, which should have been firmly in his grasp, now lay discarded on the floor. The vibrating metal rang through the uneasy air, disrupting what little calm had been restored.

Leo’s voice followed the silence almost immediately.

“Kissing your lips seems unpleasantly difficult.”

His words were flat, but his tone was unmistakable.

“But there are other things I can do.”

Charlotte couldn’t comprehend what he meant at first. She lifted her gaze, confusion flickering in her dazed eyes.

And Leo, as if he had been waiting for her to look, moved forward.

He braced one knee against the sofa, closing the distance between them.

Then, without hesitation, he unfastened the belt at his waist.

With that one simple action, Charlotte understood exactly what he meant.