Ricard's POV:
That night, I locked myself in my room, drinking alone. Glass after glass, I kept going, one bottle after another, until the floor was littered with empty bottles. I didn't stop because I wanted to—I stopped because I simply couldn't go on. Her words from earlier still echoed relentlessly in my head.
"I hate you."
Yes, that's what she said.
Of course, I knew she hated me. But hearing it directly from Joolie's mouth… I still couldn't accept it.
"No… No, we weren't supposed to end up like this. We used to be happy… We were supposed to be something good!" I buried my face in my hands, my body shaking uncontrollably as sobs wracked my chest. Even a man like me, strong and unyielding on the outside, a "war god" in the eyes of everyone else, could feel pain. I could cry, too. I had my moments of weakness; I just hid them behind this hard shell to protect the fragile parts buried deep within my heart.
"Why… Why did it have to come to this?" I whispered, clutching the glass so tightly it trembled in my hand. My entire body shook as if I were plagued by a fever that would never break. I wanted to turn back time, to return to how things were. But at the same time, I knew I had to keep moving forward. The turmoil inside me threatened to tear me apart.
Minutes passed like hours until I abruptly stood up, shoving the door open and striding out. I didn't bother saying anything. There was only one place I needed to be, and that was by her side. Without a second thought, I headed straight to her room.
...
Joolie's POV:
I was sitting in front of the mirror, brushing my hair when the door was suddenly flung open. A familiar figure stormed into the room. Before I could even react, Ricard rushed towards me, his grip rough as he grabbed my head and forcefully pressed his lips against mine.
His lips crushed mine, trapping me in a brutal kiss. I wanted to fight back, to scream, but I couldn't. There was no way I could overpower his strength. I pounded my fists against his chest, flailing desperately, but it was useless. He was like an immovable mountain—my resistance didn't even make him flinch.
Taking advantage of my helplessness, Ricard pushed me up against the wall, ignoring my weakened state. "Joolie… Joolie, I… I…" he slurred, his voice thick with the stench of alcohol. He wasn't in control anymore—every action was driven purely by instinct.
I wanted to scream, but Ricard's lips sealed mine so tightly that every attempt to struggle only made him press harder. The more I resisted, the more firmly he held me.
He placed his hand on my chest, and like a man possessed, began unbuttoning my blouse one by one, his eyes clouded with something dark and terrifying.
"You bastard!" I gathered every ounce of strength left in me and shoved him away as hard as I could. Tears streamed down my cheeks uncontrollably, my body trembling. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to protect what little dignity I had left.
Ricard tried to come closer again, but I slapped him across the face with everything I had. His handsome face now bore the angry imprint of my hand.
That seemed to snap him out of it. My slap was like a bucket of cold water thrown over his drunken state.
"Joolie… I—I'm sorry. I… I don't know what came over me," he stammered, stepping back. His hands hung limply at his sides, as if he didn't dare move closer. The man standing before me wasn't the same Ricard—he was a demon. A demon who would sacrifice everything just to satisfy his own twisted desires, who would trample over the feelings of the woman he claimed to love.
"Joolie, I'm so sorry… I was drunk, I really was. I'm sorry!"
His voice trembled with pain, but I couldn't bring myself to feel anything but disgust. I knew it—what he did tonight had pushed me even further away. I didn't just hate him now—I despised him. If I were him, I'd never forgive someone who did what he just did.
I sank to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably, clutching my blouse tightly as if I could erase the violation I'd just experienced. I was terrified. Just moments ago, I was truly afraid Ricard would do something unspeakable to me. I was terrified that I would hate him more and more until there was no room left for anything else. What happened tonight was a nightmare—a nightmare I never wanted to remember.
"Get out… Get out!" I sobbed, my chest heaving painfully as if a thousand knives were stabbing me all at once. In such a short period, I'd endured so much, and the fact that I was still breathing felt like a miracle. But tonight… tonight was the last straw, pushing my agony to the limit. I loathed this man to my very bones, but I never imagined he'd stoop so low as to do something so vile to me. Just one word summed it up: disgusting.
"I said get out! Get out!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, tears streaming down my face, my eyes bloodshot from crying.
Ricard stood there, his face twisted in pain. He wanted to reach out, to hold me, to tell me he loved me, but he knew—to me, he was nothing more than a monster. I could only find happiness in his absence. And why wouldn't I? Every tragedy in my life stemmed from him, and tonight was no exception. He'd crossed a line even he could never forgive himself for.
"Joolie…" he murmured softly.
Ricard looked like he wanted to say something more but stopped. He hung his head low and slowly walked towards the door. Before leaving, he turned back one last time to look at me, the broken girl crying on the cold floor.
"I'm sorry, Joolie."
Left alone in the empty room, I cried like a child. I hated him, but I hated myself even more. This felt like a living nightmare, except it wasn't a dream. When I woke up, I'd still be here, trapped in this hell. If it weren't for my family, I would have taken my own life long ago.
I cried myself to sleep that night. Somehow, that one night felt like a year, and maybe it was the same for the cold-hearted Ricard. What happened tonight had truly severed whatever remained between us. We were further apart than ever.
For days after that, Ricard didn't come to see me again. He kept to his office, busy with his war plans. Maybe he really didn't have time, or maybe he was just afraid his presence would only hurt me more.
But I wasn't much different. I stayed shut in my room, too. When the maids came in, I didn't even glance at them. Just like that, three days slipped by.
"The sun is so beautiful," I murmured as I opened the door to my room, relishing the peace that came with his absence. No one disturbed me; no one trampled on my pain.
"Yes, it's truly peaceful," I whispered to myself. I should have been grateful for this quietness, but instead, something gnawed at my insides like a restless insect. The feeling was hollow, empty. I didn't know what I was missing; all I knew was that I felt uneasy, like I was longing for someone I dared not name.
Just as I was struggling with these strange emotions, my maid walked in, breaking the tension.
"Miss Joolie, I've brought your breakfast."
"Thank you, Annata."
The newcomer was Annata, the maid Ricard had assigned to stay with me from the day I arrived in this mansion.
"We should cherish this peace while it lasts. I heard the situation outside is getting tense. Our Snow Moon Pack is preparing to go to war with the Blood Moon Pack. Tensions are high, and a battle could break out any day now." Annata chatted on as she arranged the flowers. She was a maid in the lord's palace, so war wouldn't affect her much. If anyone would suffer, it would be the civilians.
"War, just or unjust, the ones who suffer most are always the common people."
I listened silently, my expression betraying the emotions swirling inside me.
That evening, Ricard came to see me again. Maybe he'd finally wrapped up his business, or maybe he just couldn't bear to stay away from me any longer.
"Joolie, how have you been these past few days?"
Hearing his voice made me instinctively turn around. Seeing his face, I couldn't hide the hatred and revulsion in my eyes.
"I'm fine—much better without you."
His expression twisted, but what could he say? How could he blame me? This was all his doing, his choice. He had no right to fault me.
"I'm glad you're fine. As long as you're okay, I'm at peace."
He turned to leave, but then my voice rang out, stopping him in his tracks.
"Ricard, give me my freedom! Please, give me back my freedom!" I pleaded desperately. My voice was hoarse—I'd cried myself dry every night since coming to this cursed mansion.
"Ricard, let me go! I'll never love you!"
Her words were like a blade, piercing me more deeply than any weapon ever could. I'd endured countless wounds on the battlefield, faced death a thousand times over, but nothing compared to the agony of hearing, "I'll never love you."
"Do you know why things are like this? It's all because of you, because of your insatiable greed! Do you know what happens when war breaks out? Wives lose husbands, children lose fathers. People have homes but can't return to them. Home becomes a distant dream. You're a lord, but you don't bear the pain of war. Is that why you're doing this? Are you starting this war between the Snow Moon Pack and the Blood Moon Pack just for power?"
"Would you really sacrifice family, your own brother, just for power? Ricard, Thierry is your blood brother!" I shouted, my voice filled with bitterness.
Ricard remained silent. He didn't argue, didn't refute a single word.
"Joolie, it's late. Go to sleep," he whispered and slowly left the room. No one saw how badly his legs were shaking as he walked away—the legs of a "high and mighty lord, consumed by ambition."