If You Conquer Me - Chapter 11
“Why? Is it that upsetting to you when I drop the formalities?”
Seizing the opportunity, Ophelia snarked back quickly.
“What’s so bad about my tone? You’re surprisingly petty about it.”
“Hmm.”
Hugo narrowed his eyes and gave a sly grin.
“If that’s really the case… maybe I should focus on taming my ill-mannered mistress.”
For a moment, Ophelia thought she had misheard.
“What?”
“Honestly, it’s a bit odd for a mistress to speak so informally to her lover, don’t you think?”
“…That’s…”
“Still, if you, Leticia, want it, I can try to match your tone.”
Hugo continued, his voice dripping with mockery.
“Imagine me being attracted to a woman with such a bad temper.”
What is this man even talking about? Ophelia opened her mouth, but Hugo didn’t stop there.
“Wouldn’t it be pretty convincing if I said I’ve been tolerating my mistress crawling all over me for that reason?”
Convincing? Ophelia was repulsed.
“Why not just use polite language? That would solve everything, wouldn’t it?”
“Why? I don’t mind at all.”
“I do.”
“Well, in that case…”
Hugo added with a sly smile,
“You’re the one who said you’d start being polite, remember?”
“…!”
Why do I feel like I’m getting sucked into his game? Is it just me?
Ophelia furrowed her brow in frustration. As she did, Hugo threw the papers onto the side table and stood up.
“Fine. In that case, should we spread a little rumor?”
“Rumor? …What do you mean?”
Ophelia reflexively responded informally, then quickly corrected herself with a polite tone. At the same time, she realized what she’d done.
How foolish of me. I’m acting like a child, making it obvious that I don’t like being polite.
Meanwhile, Hugo let out a slight laugh through his lips.
At his reaction, Ophelia shot him a fierce glare. But Hugo simply laughed heartily.
“Hahaha!”
…..Enough with the laughter. Ophelia glared at him coldly.
After a moment, Hugo, still chuckling with tears in his eyes, wiped them away and spoke.
“That’s funny. I’m glad I kept you alive.”
Ophelia felt a cold shiver run through her heart. After all, she was the last surviving member of her family, all of whom had been slaughtered. No matter how much Ophelia had been neglected by her family, and how little affection she had ever received, the fact remained that this man was the one who had wiped them out.
And yet, how could he say something like “I’m glad I kept you alive” in front of her? How could he laugh so casually at the fact?
“Ah, right, back to the original story. Here’s the rumor I plan to spread.”
“…?”
“That I’ve lost my mind over some gladiator slave and can’t think straight.”
Hugo explained with a surprisingly friendly tone, then leaned in close, gazing softly into Ophelia’s eyes as he whispered,
“So, let’s continue to get along, shall we?”
The voice and tone were so sweet that Ophelia felt goosebumps all over her body.
Can I really handle this?
Could she endure being by the side of such an enigmatic man? Just as Ophelia was lost in thought, looking troubled, Hugo cheerfully finished his sentence.
“Well then, I look forward to working with you.”
* * *
After Ophelia left, Hugo stretched out again on the sofa. Despite his lazy appearance, his mind was buzzing with thoughts.
Ophelia, Ophelia…
For a moment, his long fingers, which had been tapping on the armrest, suddenly stopped.
She’s got some grit, after all.
The reason Hugo had indulged in the gladiator slave entertainment was simple. He found it amusing how the Ascanior nobles, desperately trying to save their own lives, would grovel before him. After thoroughly toying with the traitors, he had planned to dispose of them.
I didn’t expect such a big catch, though.
No matter how neglected Ophelia had been, she was still a princess. He hadn’t thought she would step into such a dangerous place, so it piqued his interest even more.
The moment he realized Ophelia had infiltrated, he closely observed her movements. He was curious whether she would truly make it all the way to him, whether she would seize the opportunity to raise her sword against him.
And Ophelia did not disappoint him.
