Lady Class - Chapter 42

Kahn’s face twisted in frustration. He had been caught by the most troublesome woman, and he ran a hand through his hair, feeling the predicament. Melinda knew too much—lying wouldn’t work on her.

“Yes, I’m the one she met.”

“I thought so. It was strange how Lady Winner left the capital first, yet later, rumors linked her to Bowil Solomon.”

“She mistook me for a gigolo who teaches ‘lady’s classes.’”

Melinda, who had been excited by the gossip, suddenly changed her expression. She let out a thoughtful hum, her demeanor cooling into something more serious and analytical.

“…Did she approach you on purpose, knowing who you are?”

Without waiting for Kahn’s answer, Melinda tilted her head, mulling it over before reaching her own conclusion.

“Oh, but the timing doesn’t quite match. Still, she could have met you by chance and then targeted you after learning your identity.”

“That’s not the case. She still doesn’t know who I am.”

“Are you absolutely sure?”

It was a sharp question, striking right at the heart of Kahn’s anxiety. Even though he was certain, the doubt still lingered.

“…She’s a virgin. She wanted to save herself for her wedding night.”

“Oh my, that sounds like you mean she would have let you, if only you had asked.”

“Melinda.”

“But you still have doubts about her.”

Ignoring Kahn’s warning, Melinda continued the conversation as she pleased.

“Would you like my help? Women tend to open up more easily to other women. I can pretend that I, too, took ‘lady’s classes’ from you and probe Lady Winner for her true feelings.”

Kahn had been about to stop her, but her next words made him waver.

“To see whether or not she has feelings for you.”

“Melinda.”

“That’s what you want to know, isn’t it?”

“Don’t do anything unnecessary.”

Melinda smiled mischievously. Slowly, she backed away until she was standing by the door.

“But now I’m curious. I’ll take care of Lady Winner, so you just rest for a bit.”

Then, before Kahn could react, she closed the door to the room he was in. A second later, another soft click sounded—the door to the adjacent room had been shut as well.

A bad feeling crept over Kahn as he left his room. He grabbed the handle of the door where Rackley was resting, but it wouldn’t budge. It was locked.

A lock like this wouldn’t be much of a challenge for his strength. If he applied just a little force, he could break it easily.

“Kahn, you might wake the lady.”

But Melinda’s voice came from inside, calmly advising him. At her words, Kahn hesitated. Instead of forcing his way in, he turned to look for the housekeeper.

He needed to get the key.

Before Melinda said something harsh to Rackley.

*

“…Ah…”

Rackley let out a small groan as she opened her eyes. Though she had regained consciousness, dizziness prevented her from sitting up. Her entire body felt drained of strength.

The unfamiliar scent around her made her realize—she was in a place she didn’t recognize.

“If you’re awake, drink some water.”

At the soft voice laced with a delicate fragrance, she turned her head. A beautiful woman was sitting beside her. With violet hair, she was someone even Rackley—who was not well-versed in trends—recognized as a famous figure.

“Melinda Hart…”

“Yes, now sit up and drink some water.”

“Ah, thank you.”

A gentle hand supported her shoulders, and Rackley felt her cheeks heat up. Even as a fellow woman, she found Melinda breathtakingly beautiful and elegant.

Melinda patiently waited until Rackley had taken a few sips of water before speaking again.

“Thank you for inviting me to that banquet before.”

“Oh, no. It was I who should thank you for coming. Your presence brightened the event, Miss Melinda. The guests were delighted to meet you.”

“…Oh my.”

“But how did I…?”

Melinda smiled gently.

“Sir Kahn brought you here.”

At the mention of Kahn’s name, Rackley froze.

She suddenly remembered catching his scent before losing consciousness. It hadn’t been a dream. By sheer coincidence, she had encountered him again. But now, he was nowhere to be seen. Instead, the famous Melinda sat before her, speaking his name.

Seeing Rackley’s surprise, Melinda offered a graceful smile.

“He’s a truly wonderful man. He’s also my mentor.”

Though she didn’t specify the context, Rackley immediately understood what she meant.

Lady’s Classes.

Her face went pale before she even realized it, and she instinctively responded.

“Oh, I see.”

Melinda also took Lady’s Classes from Kahn…

It felt like standing before an enormous tidal wave, unable to move as it loomed closer. She clutched the fabric of her red dress tightly, feeling as if she were being swallowed by the surge of emotions.

If Kahn was a gigolo, it was only natural that he had multiple clients, other women taking his lessons.

It was natural—yet the realization hit her like betrayal. Even more than the shocking truth that she had spent time at the villa with a man whose identity she didn’t truly know.

“This is our secret place. I was surprised that Kahn brought you here.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I must have been an inconvenience. I… I should leave now.”

Rackley hurried to stand up. Her body felt heavy, but not so much that she couldn’t move.

She didn’t even notice the flicker of surprise in Melinda’s expression.

“No, I wasn’t telling you to leave—”

“Melinda, enough.”

The door opened, and Kahn stepped inside.

Not much time had passed, yet just seeing him again made Rackley’s eyes burn with emotion.

She was relieved and happy. More than the uncertainty about his identity, the sheer joy of seeing him again overwhelmed her and made her heart crumble.

She ran a hand through her disheveled hair, unintentionally tilting her upper body forward—her ample chest now even more prominent.

Kahn let out a quiet hum and nodded toward Melinda.

“Leave.”

“Alright, I’ll give you two some privacy.”

As Melinda left, the room was enveloped in silence. A thick tension settled between them.

“How did you end up in the capital? Ah… I never even asked where you were staying. I didn’t expect to see you again like this.”

“This is a secret place.”

Kahn spoke the words but immediately clicked his tongue inwardly. It was a phrase that could be misinterpreted in many ways. Yet, he was too irritated to explain further.

Displeased with his own pettiness, Kahn furrowed his brows.

“…Ah.”

Rackley let out a quiet sigh.

The sharpness in her eyes, so alive when he had seen her at the villa, was now gone. Instead, her gaze was blurred, lifeless. She no longer looked like the vibrant noblewoman who had once expressed her emotions so fiercely—now, she was like a withered flower, fragile and on the verge of breaking.

Unable to endure the silence, Kahn spoke first, stating the situation plainly.

“I happened to see you while passing by. You looked like you were about to collapse, so I brought you here.”

“Oh, thank you.”

Even in her dazed state, Rackley managed a faint smile.

Kahn clenched his teeth, swallowing back the words that threatened to escape.

He wanted to ask about her engagement.

Was it true that she was engaged to Bowil Solomon? Had they been together even before she came to the villa? If she already had a lover, why did she take the Lady’s Classes and open herself up to him?

But when he saw her pale, drained face, a deep pity filled his chest.

Hypocrisy.

After all, he had deceived her, too.

He had condemned her supposed promiscuity while indulging in her body and pleasure. To now feel sympathy for her—it was no different than a crocodile shedding tears while devouring its prey.

“There’s not much I can offer a guest.”

He placed a plate of meringue cookies, made with sugar and egg whites, along with a cup of tea in front of her. Rackley picked up the teacup and closed her eyes, inhaling the fragrance.

“It smells lovely.”

Savoring the warmth, she held the cup for a moment without drinking.

“Thank you.”

Her gratitude unsettled Kahn’s conscience. He knew that, for the sake of her dignity, he should remain silent—but for a fleeting moment, he couldn’t hold back.

“You’re being treated unfairly. If you marry someone like him, you won’t be able to achieve the dreams you truly want.”

A happy family, a loving husband who cherished his wife and children.

Rackley’s lips quivered, her expression crumbling. Her eyes brimmed with unshed tears, but none fell.

“…But he is still my fiancé.”

Kahn’s gaze turned cold.

Rackley, struggling to hold back tears, studied his appearance, failing to notice the shift in his expression.

Seeing him in the capital rather than the villa made him seem unfamiliar. He had always been handsome and charismatic, but now he struck her with a new intensity.

His sleeves and shoes were still adorned with high-end fabrics and materials. She had expected him to be popular, but to think he was well-connected enough for even the famous singer Melinda to employ him—

He had left an unforgettable mark on her, a scar etched onto her body and soul.

Too deep to ever fade.

‘No one must find out that I met this man.’

Seeing Kahn again filled her with both relief and anxiety.

What if Bowil misunderstood if he saw them together?

More than the possibility of rumors tarnishing her reputation further, she worried for Kahn’s safety. Bowil was rough and arrogant. A staunch male supremacist, he would never tolerate the existence of a gigolo his wife had once been involved with.

Of course, it was an era where murder was punished severely. However, if a gigolo with a scandalous past involving a noblewoman were to die, the act could easily be dismissed as self-defense.

No matter how popular Kahn was among women, the nature of his profession meant he could never openly assert his status. No one would step forward to protect him.

Once something happened, it would be too late.

She had to be careful.

“Because he’s your fiancé, it’s okay for him to say such things to you?”

Kahn’s gaze darkened as he looked down at her.

Rackley gave a faint, clouded smile, as if she had accepted her circumstances.

Did she truly care for Bowil so much that she would endure such humiliation?

Her awkwardness when he had embraced her, her reactions—she was undoubtedly an inexperienced virgin. Many noblewomen and unmarried aristocrats engaged in wanton pleasures before marriage, and men were no different. Particularly a notorious libertine like Bowil Solomon—he had no right to call her promiscuous.

Yet, despite the unfair accusations hurled at her, Rackley endured them all in silence.

“Fine, if that’s what you want.”

A memory of his mother surfaced.

A woman who had responded to her husband’s demands with nothing but weakness and helplessness.

A woman who had crumbled away without even thinking to resist.

Now, Kahn saw that same image in Rackley.

His mind blanked with anger. His throat tightened as he gave her the cold answer she seemingly wanted.

“You should do as you wish.”

‘Fine, if that’s the life you want, keep living it.’

A dress cut so low it threatened to spill over, an elegant neckline, soft breasts rising with each breath—all for her fiancé.

Rackley Winner, who cast aside shame to capture her husband’s attention.

She had been looking up at Kahn, but when she sensed where his gaze had settled, she lowered her eyes in embarrassment.

Yet, like someone waiting for him to act, she made no move to cover herself.

“…I’ll be going now.”

“Aah.”

Kahn let out a breath of amusement.

He had thought her innocent, and yet, here she was—a woman who so easily stirred a man’s desires.

He scoffed at his own delusion.

“You’re just going to leave? After meeting me like this?”

“…What?”

Rackley lifted her head in confusion, feigning innocence.

Kahn’s gaze deliberately trailed over her exposed chest.

“Wearing a dress like that?”