"Duchess Valois, good evening. Welcome to Marseille."
A servant awaited Bree in front of the room. A polite and sweet servant. She also smiled warmly without any flaw. She was Aima, the servant who would attend to her daily needs in this castle.
"Allow me to introduce myself. I am Aima. I will be serving you here."
Aima's words were exactly the same as Bree remembered. It meant she would be exactly the same as before—sly and only here as a spy for Irene, Rad's mother. Bree had something for Aima, but not now. Rad was more important.
"Thank you," Bree replied politely, as usual.
"Step aside!" A cold voice interjected, making Bree move instantly.
Bree cursed herself after that. Her reflexive movements still followed that voice obediently. She shouldn't need to be so submissive to Rad. The man was now walking into his room—their room.
"I will assist you," Aima said, pointing to the door Rad had just passed through.
"For tonight, it's not necessary. You rest. I can manage on my own."
Bree looked at Aima firmly. Aima seemed surprised, but then stepped back after bowing, not following Bree into the room. Yes, she needed to learn who's the ruler here. Bree couldn't command Aima freely before because she was awkward and fearful.
Bree's steps trembled slightly as she entered the room. This was the moment she had to resist—the moment when she suffered the most.
"We can do this!" Bree whispered very softly. 'We' referred to her past self and her resurrected self. Bree was gathering courage.
The luxurious room with a large bed and golden ornaments still looked intimidating, as Bree remembered. Bree hated that bed because it reminded her of nights spent crying and waiting for Rad.
The man now stood near the table, seemingly observing something, but with his head bowed and the candlelight unable to reach that corner, reading the open letter on the table was impossible for him. It was too dark to read.
He turned when he heard Bree's footsteps while removing the blood-stained cloak from the bandit attack.
"You..."
"I don't want you to touch me!" Bree exclaimed loudly, cutting off Rad's words. Bree rejected him first before hearing hurtful words from Rad.
Bree still remembered Rad's words from that night, word for word.
'You don't need to do anything. I won't touch you tonight.'
Those were the words Rad should have said earlier, but Bree cut him off with a rejection to save her dignity.
Bree silently thanked herself for not sounding shaky, unlike her legs. However, a wide skirt covered her legs, enhancing the perfection of Bree's act of resistance.
Rad's wide-open eyes narrowed slowly.
"What..."
"Isn't it clear enough? I said I didn't want you to touch me! Not even a fingertip!" Bree repeated it louder, staring at Rad with her wide blue eyes.
"You agreed to this marriage but rejected me?" Rad asked, his voice clearly expressing bewilderment. His usually toneless voice once again showed emotion for the second time today.
"Yes! What's so strange about that?" Bree challenged.
"Strange, because your father clearly stated that you were here after willingly and joyfully accepting this marriage."
Another wave of shock washed over Bree when she heard her father's name. It was another item on the list of things she had to do—saving her father. But that was later; now Bree wanted to confront her father. She didn't remember ever looking joyful when accepting the marriage.
Bree did agree because she knew the marriage was crucial for her father, but it couldn't have looked joyful. Initially, Bree thought Rad was a middle-aged man. He couldn't possibly be happy about the marriage. Bree felt joy only when they met at the church this morning. When she saw Rad's face, but now that joy was trash. Bree didn't want to remember it.
"I never felt joy about this marriage!" Bree countered after finding her voice.
"Hmm..." Rad just mumbled.
"So what do you want?" he asked.
"Like I said earlier, I don't want you to touch me!"
Rad looked at Bree and then walked closer. "So, you'll be here as my wife, but useless? Just existing?"
Bree raised the knife she had taken from the table, causing Rad to stop in his tracks.
"Don't come closer!" Bree held the knife to make Rad understand that she wouldn't allow his hands to touch her.
"Are you threatening me?" Rad looked even more amazed.
"Yes! Try to come closer, and I will."
CLANG!
Bree's breath caught as somehow Rad's hand swept away the knife from her hand. The knife fell to the floor. He easily brushed off Bree's resistance.
Rad was now right in front of Bree. Staring at her with his beautiful hazel irises. Bree didn't have time to scream in surprise; she didn't see how Rad moved. There should still be a few meters of distance between them.
"How dare you!" Rad growled.
"Yes, I am, and what about it? Will you kill me? Just try!" A challenge came from Bree.
Bree knew Rad needed her now; at least he wouldn't kill her, no matter what she did. Their marriage was based on benefits for both sides. Bree didn't know what it was, but surely Rad needed something from her father.
"Funny!" Rad smiled now. Not the friendly and warm kind, just a cynical and cold smile. He mocked Bree's efforts to reject him.
"I also don't really want you. I hate obedient women who only know how to please others. But you're quite interesting."
Bree blinks several times.
"You're not interesting!" Bree replied shortly, sharp and piercing. Despite stepping back, her tongue managed to hurt.
Rad flashed the same smile again while unbuttoning the white blouse he was still wearing.
"I indeed have no intention of touching you; don't worry." And just like that, Rad walked out of the room.
"Campy!" Rad shouted, calling Campy, his personal servant, as he closed the door.
It was a usual call, but Bree knew exactly what would happen. She had often heard such demanding calls with a firm tone.
Bree didn't want to repeat the bad things, but this time too, she had to see them. She needed this to strengthen her resolve. Her resolve to hate Rad. Before, Bree accidentally saw it, but now Bree intentionally wants to see it.
Her hand slowly opened the bedroom door, and then she walked towards the edge of the second-floor balcony railing. A position that allowed her to gaze down at the first floor quite freely.
She saw Rad descending towards Campy, who stood beside a young blonde-haired girl, her face glowing as she saw Rad approaching.
The dress she wore, made of decent material, indicated her middle-class background. Not as luxurious as a noblewoman's dress like Bree's, nor as plain as a servant like Aima. There was nothing wrong with the fabric of her dress, but it was the shape that accentuated her prominent and well-endowed chest.
Bree couldn't hear their conversation, but she could guess what was happening, especially as the girl's face lit up, especially when Rad's hand reached out to touch her neck.
The girl looked like she was about to melt and sway. Who wouldn't feel overwhelmed when a man with Rad's face expressed his desire for her?
Rad's hand continued to caress not only her neck but also her shoulders, and down to the prominent part. The girl bit her lip with a lustful look in her eyes as she gazed at Rad.
Rad lifted her body, burying his face into her neck, leading the girl, who now closed her eyes, into one of the rooms on the first floor.
Bree's hands gripped the balcony railing tightly, looking pale, but then she let go and walked back into the room. That's when her legs gave up. Bree slumped and sat on the floor, her skirt spreading wide around her. Uncontrollable tears streamed down her face. Bree was wrong about this one; the pain she felt turned out to be worse.
Before, Bree felt humiliated and bad when she saw Rad with another woman on their first night, but now the pain is worse because she has started to love him after that. This might be a new path she chose, but her soul and heart were not new. The feelings Bree thought were dead could still hurt her.
With hands propped on the floor while tears dropped onto the carpet, Bree once again resolved to forget it all. The weak and obedient Bree was dead. There would be no more.