Tamed Monster - Chapter 7
“I saw earlier that Lancart was surprisingly favorable toward you. Since my son is a bit out of sorts for now, isn’t this the perfect chance for you to fulfill your duties as Duchess—duties you haven’t been able to perform these past four years?”
Lady Rossa had long urged Sylvia to have a child, but since Lancart had consistently avoided sleeping with her, Sylvia simply couldn’t fulfill that obligation even if she wanted to.
It was unthinkable to get married into the Duchy and not to produce an heir. Sylvia knew this well, but what made Lady Rossa’s suggestion so shocking was—
“Even if I wanted to… Lady Rossa, didn’t you and the Duke come to an agreement just before he left for campaign?”
Lancart had grown tired of his mother’s constant pressure to produce an heir. After years of arguing, he finally secured a promise just before this campaign: he would adopt a child secretly and raise it as his own, so he wouldn’t have to force himself into relations with his wife anymore.
Lady Rossa had definitely agreed to this.
“That was only because he kept telling me he didn’t want to, that I reluctantly agreed! Do you really think Lancart’s proposal makes any sense? If anyone finds out, it’s over. They’ll denounce our entire family as vulgar!”
Given her background, Lady Rossa was obsessively sensitive to public opinion. There were already plenty of nobles whispering behind her back about her lowly origins as a commoner entertainer.
Adding any more scandal to the Duke’s family was simply unacceptable to her.
‘If my son dies young, that’ll be the end of this family. I have to make sure an authentic heir is born to support the Dukedom as soon as possible.’
Having made this sharp calculation in her mind, Lady Rossa spoke with a fierce tone.
“But wouldn’t it be better to have an heir from the legitimate wife so there won’t be any unnecessary gossip? Having a son will strengthen your position, too. This is truly a golden opportunity—for you and for me.”
Right now, Sylvia held no real standing in the Duke’s family. She was treated like a servant by the elders, ignored by her husband as if she was invisible, and only received decent treatment from the household staff.
Sylvia struggled to suppress the overwhelming frustration rising inside her.
“…”
“Don’t you worry about your family? If you get kicked out of this family, all the support we’re giving you will be cut off. That would be far worse—”
“Fine. I’ll do as you wish.”
Unable to hold back any longer, Sylvia cut off Lady Rossa’s words sharply. Hiding one of her politely folded hands behind her back, she clenched it tightly.
This was her fatal weakness—her parents and elder sister, who had fled to the Empire, had for years been unavoidably reliant on the Dukedom’s support.
As long as this situation didn’t change, Sylvia was trapped—neither able to leave the family nor resist it. Lady Rossa knew this better than anyone else. After all, she was the one who had orchestrated the marriage between the Duke and Sylvia in the first place.
Lady Rossa’s nose twitched in displeasure when her words were cut off, but seeing Sylvia’s devastated expression, her narrowed eyes softened. Relieved to have provoked Sylvia’s frustration, she lightly gestured for her to leave.
Without a word, Sylvia quietly slipped out of Lady Rossa’s room.
Thud.
“…Haa…”
A long sigh escaped her lips.
Sylvia trudged up the stairs, utterly drained. She didn’t know how to bring up this matter to her husband. Even if he wasn’t fully himself, he was still the Duke.
And if she became pregnant and he regained his original personality and memories, would he even spare her? The likelihood was overwhelmingly low.
As she climbed the stairs, Sylvia racked her brain for any way to turn the situation around but came up empty-handed, arriving instead at the Duke’s chambers.
* * *
At the same time, inside the Crown Prince’s palace.
Myers lay on the bed, holding four women draped across him, his mind returning to the letter just delivered by the newly arrived carrier bird.
“Hah, hhk! Ah, ahh, aah!”
Sharp-witted yet ruthless, vigorous and one of the Empire’s most potent men, Myers, soaked with sweat beneath his platinum hair that marked his royal bloodline, moved his body and mind separately.
As he thrust boldly into the women, he mulled over the news of the Duke’s survival.
December 3, 0:00 — Duke found alive near the Black Swamp Trail in Blavat. Appears physically unharmed but in a temporary coma. All search party members returned immediately.
December 5, 9:53 — Arrived at the capital. Duke regained consciousness but shows alarming symptoms:
– Unable to recall the exact year, age, or status.
– Uses unrefined speech and expressions unbecoming of a noble; overly friendly toward search party and others.
– Obsessively searching for “his wife.”
– Pathologically refuses to be served.
Though brief, the report was enough for Myers to grasp the situation. He snorted with amusement. Something unpleasant yet interesting had happened.
That Duke Alexander, his younger brother, had become an imbecile.
Deep down, he wanted to clutch his belly and laugh uproariously.
“Hah! Huh…!”
“Ah—hnng!”
After a few seconds of thrusting violently into the woman’s hips, Myers stopped laughing and finally reached his climax. He let go of the woman’s pelvis, leaving her to collapse.
