The Beast That Held My Leash - Chapter 2

“Can’t you drink alcohol at all?”

Lost in thought, Stella took a moment to realize Hendrik had spoken to her. The prince was watching her with a smirk, noticing that she hadn’t even touched her wine.

“I’m not a strong drinker, but I can handle some,” she replied.

“Then have a sip.”

“…”

“Go on. It’s the finest wine, made from the sweetest grapes.”

The mere thought of drinking made Stella uneasy. The journey here had left her nauseated, and she had no desire to make things worse. Drinking on an empty stomach would make her drunk far too quickly, and if she lost control of herself in front of the prince, she might end up making a mistake.

She responded with a vague smile, only pretending to wet her lips.

Hendrik continued to watch her, his expression unreadable. His gaze flickered to the untouched wine glass she had set down, scrutinizing it.

“…Um.”

Stella hesitantly broke the silence.

“I heard there’s a possibility of an important treaty between Largo and Pantege.”

“Ah, so I’ve heard,” Hendrik responded, sounding indifferent, as if the topic had never truly interested him.

A rare glimmer of excitement shone in Stella’s eyes.

“If Largo can establish strong ties with Pantege, the dominant power of the central continent, it would be an incredible opportunity for us.”

“Well, I suppose we’ll see how things turn out.”

“As Your Highness may already know, though Largo is a small nation, it boasts the most fertile grain-producing lands in the south—”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think this is an appropriate topic right now. Especially for a princess.”

Hendrik, who had worn a constant smile until now, furrowed his brows and cut her off mid-sentence.

The sudden rebuke made Stella’s face burn with embarrassment.

“…I apologize. I overstepped.”

“Well, mistakes happen to everyone.”

Hendrik accepted her quick apology with ease, but his gaze once again dropped to her untouched wine glass, lingering there meaningfully.

“That said, it does feel a little lonely to drink alone on such a special occasion.”

“…Pardon?”

“I mean, it’s disappointing that the princess won’t even take a sip of this fine wine.”

He leaned in slightly as he murmured the words, making Stella instinctively glance at the wine before her, her expression conflicted.

In the end, she gave in, tilting the glass and swallowing the deep red liquid.

A slow, knowing smile curled across Hendrik’s lips. Her reluctance toward drinking didn’t entirely satisfy him, but he was willing to be generous—for now.

Largo’s star. Small, yet more dazzling and brilliant than a full moon.

Her beauty was said to be so mesmerizing that anyone—man or woman—who laid eyes upon her would fall under her spell.

Rumors tend to be exaggerated, but those who had seen the princess in person all spoke in unison, praising her breathtaking looks.

Until the princess made her first public appearance, Largo had been an unremarkable kingdom.

About a decade ago, there had been some noise over the royal succession, but even that wasn’t particularly unusual. The late king—Stella’s father—had passed away early, and the legitimate prince had been sent to guard the western front. In his absence, the throne fell to a collateral relative, the current king.

People whispered about him, a man who had not only taken the throne but also assumed the role of husband to the widowed queen. However, such successions and levirate marriages were not uncommon, so the gossip never escalated beyond idle talk.

Then, before long, the princess—once kept hidden like a precious treasure—began to step into the world.

Several years had passed since Hendrik, intrigued by the whispers of her legendary beauty, had led a diplomatic envoy to Largo.

Unlike the late king, who had held his ground with dignity, the current king fawned over Pantége, reminding them that Largo had once been their vassal state. He pleaded for an alliance, acting as if he were ready to offer anything to the mighty empire—whether it be fertile farmlands, modest mines, or even the princess, who was no more than a stranger to him.

Hendrik had barely suppressed his laughter as he scrutinized Stella from head to toe, his eyes dark and calculating. She was flawless, like a ripe fruit at harvest, full and unblemished. Even through her clothing, her voluptuous curves were undeniable, stirring his most primal desires.

How long he had waited for this moment.

Lured to a secluded villa deep within the forest, the princess was finally his. From tonight onward, she would belong to him—completely, utterly, and for a very long time.

Hendrik could barely contain himself—he wanted to drag the princess to his chambers that very instant. Unable to resist, he reached out a sly hand and stroked Stella’s bare shoulder over the delicate fabric of her dress.

“…Your Highness!”

Startled, Stella flinched away, twisting her upper body in alarm. Her reaction was sharp, but Hendrik paid it no mind. Instead, he grasped her arm, kneading it possessively.

“You’re like a feisty little kitten. Isn’t it time to drop the act and be honest?”

“W-what? What are you talking about…?”

“Let’s not pretend anymore. A princess of marriageable age wouldn’t be this naive.”

Her delicate brows knitted together, and a wave of confusion flickered across her face.

She had overheard her uncle’s cryptic words before the trip, but she had not come here expecting to be handed over in marriage. In fact, she had barely even crossed the threshold into adulthood—calling her of marriageable age was a stretch at best.

Hendrik let out a low chuckle, his smirk widening.

“You didn’t come all this way just for dinner, did you? Did the King of Largo really tell you nothing?”

“……!”

“I made it very clear what I wanted. Surely, you understood?”

A flash of realization struck across Stella’s face like a bolt of lightning.

“No matter what the prince demands, obey him as a proper, virtuous woman should.”

“You should be obedient. That’s the virtue of a good princess, isn’t it?”

“P-please, don’t do this…!”

Pale as a ghost, Stella shoved her chair back and shot to her feet. Hendrik, still grinning, leisurely rose as well.

“No need to run—this villa is surrounded by my knights. Where do you think you’re going—”

At that very moment, a sharp scream rang out from beyond the locked banquet hall doors.

Stella’s breath caught in her throat as she whipped her head toward the sound. Another bloodcurdling shriek followed, then another, accompanied by the shattering of glass and the unmistakable clash of steel.

“You there! What the hell is happening outside?!” Hendrik bellowed.

But no answer came.

Stella, wide-eyed and trembling, scanned the room frantically. Then—

BANG!

The heavy doors burst from their hinges, crashing onto the floor.

Stella’s legs gave out beneath her, and she collapsed in shock.

Men clad in dark, heavy armor strode into the room, their boots pressing down on the fallen door. Their large, imposing frames filled the space with an air of overwhelming menace. They carried blood-soaked swords, and judging by their eerily calm expressions, that blood was certainly not their own.

Stella’s gaze darted past them, toward the banquet hall entrance, where the bodies of Hendrik’s knights lay strewn across the floor in a gruesome heap.

An ambush. Someone had attacked the Pantége prince’s villa.

Paralyzed by fear, Stella scrambled backward on her hands and knees, pressing herself against the farthest wall. Her breath came in shallow gasps as sheer terror gripped her entire body.

“We’ve found him.”

The man at the front—who had been glaring coldly at Hendrik—turned and delivered the report.

As if responding to an unspoken command, the other soldiers stepped aside, clearing a path.

Then came the sound of slow, deliberate footsteps against the marble floor.

Stella instinctively held her breath.

A towering figure strode through the opening, his black cloak billowing in his wake.

He walked with the unhurried grace of someone arriving fashionably late to a grand ball, unfazed by the carnage he had left in his wake. But the closer he came, the more suffocating his presence became, pressing down on Stella like an inescapable force.

A chill ran down her spine, her teeth clattering as if she had been caught in a freezing gust of wind.

Everything about the man—from his raven-black hair to the dark layers of his attire—was devoid of color. Everything except his eyes.

His eyes burned like embers in the night, a striking, searing crimson.

He’s the one in charge.

Stella understood this instinctively.

She curled in on herself, clutching her knees tightly, her ice-cold fingers damp with sweat.

And then, barely above a whisper, she gasped:

“D-Duke Peruno…”

Hendrik swallowed hard, his breath hitching. The man stopped in front of the dining table, tilting an eyebrow in a mockery of amusement, his eyes glinting with laughter as he regarded the prince.

“Hendrik Rigan.”

His voice was deceptively smooth, almost as if greeting an old friend. Had Hendrik’s face not turned deathly pale, one might have believed it was a warm salutation.

“Or should I call you a filthy con artist instead?”

His deep, resonant voice punctuated the air like the final stroke of a death sentence.

Without hesitation, Hendrik bolted.

He lunged toward another door within the banquet hall—one that had been subtly disguised as a decorative part of the wall, explaining the nagging sense of unease he had felt earlier.

But he barely managed a few steps before a powerful grip caught him by the scruff of his neck.

The man yanked Hendrik back effortlessly and slammed his head against the solid dining table.

“Aaargh—!”

THUD!

The force rattled the table, sending glasses and fine china crashing to the ground in a sharp, shattering chorus.

Stella sucked in a breath.

Hendrik, who had always loomed so large in her eyes, was now nothing more than a ragdoll, tossed about without resistance.

“What did I tell you?”

Leaning over him, the man pressed Hendrik’s skull harder into the table, his voice an eerie whisper against his ear.

“If there’s one thing I can’t tolerate, it’s a liar. Didn’t I say I’d cut open your gut if you tried to deceive me?”

“D-Duke! Please, let’s talk this out—”

“Bring it.”

Without sparing him another glance, the man gestured with his fingers.

One of his subordinates, moving with the silent efficiency of a shadow, stepped forward and handed him a silk pouch.

He reached inside and seized a handful of its contents, pulling them out with a rough grip.

Glistening gemstones spilled into his palm, catching the dim light.

“Half the jewels you sent were fakes.”

“T-that’s impossible—!”

“Some of them were cheap imitations that dissolved like sugar.”

Hendrik gasped, his feeble protests dying on his lips as the man deliberately brought his fist closer, letting a few of the gemstones slip through his fingers and drop onto the table with soft, mocking thunks.

“Th-this is a misunderstanding! I swear! Duke Peruno, just put those down and—!”

“Shall we test whether it’s a misunderstanding or not?”

His crimson eyes gleamed with sadistic amusement.

And then, without warning, he began shoving the jewels into Hendrik’s mouth.

“Mmph—! MMPH!”

“Swallow them. Every last one. When I slice you open, I’ll only take the ones that are still intact in your stomach.”

Hendrik thrashed violently, gagging, his body convulsing as he struggled to breathe.

Watching the horrifying scene unfold, Stella trembled uncontrollably, frozen in sheer terror.

“Gggh—! W-wait! I-I’ll compensate you—!”