DLMSWSHH Chapter 54

TL: hua

Chapter 54: Stay the Night

The Duke closed the door behind him.

The sound of the door clicking shut startled Zhong Ming. He turned around to face the Duke, leaning back against the desk with his arms crossed over his chest. He didn’t realize he had instinctively adopted an obvious defensive posture.

The Duke turned toward him. The coldness from earlier had vanished, replaced by a soft gaze. “What is it you want to ask?”

Zhong Ming looked up at him. “That player just now, do you not know him?”

The Duke frowned. “What?”

Seeing that he truly seemed unaware, Zhong Ming hinted, “Don’t you think he looks very much like you?”

Upon hearing this, the Duke arched his thick eyebrows high before narrowing his eyes. Zhong Ming could read the unspoken messages on his face: Is that how you see me?” “Surely I’m the more handsome one? and so on.

Zhong Ming: “…”

Is this man’s head filled with nothing but tentacles?

Left with no choice, Zhong Ming spoke bluntly. “He said he is related to you by blood.”

Only then did a look of realization dawn on the Duke’s face. He let out a brief, “Ah.”

He nodded and walked toward Zhong Ming, passing him to reach the desk. “So that’s how it is. What did he tell you?”

Zhong Ming turned his head, watching the Duke open a drawer, but did not answer immediately.

The Duke didn’t press him. He took a small box from the desk, retrieved something, and held it out to Zhong Ming. “Want to try?”

Zhong Ming lowered his eyes; it was a cigar. The brown tobacco was rolled up into a strip about two fingers wide.

Zhong Ming shook his head gently. The Duke withdrew his hand, expertly clipped the cap, and lit it.

A faint fragrance began to permeate the air.

Zhong Ming watched him through the thin veil of smoke. Putting the matchbox back on the desk, the Duke turned back, the cigar clamped between his teeth. “Did he tell you I was a very bad person?”

He asked in a low voice. His handsome face was partially obscured by the smoke, his tone unreadable.

Zhong Ming’s breath hitched slightly as he looked up. Previously, this man had always maintained an image of elegance and poise, the impression of a well-bred aristocrat or a polymath scholar. But now, with the cigar in his mouth and his eyes cast down, he looked like a wicked, powerful landlord.

Zhong Ming pursed his lips. “Yes.”

He omitted the parts involving Ye Qing and shifted the weight of the story onto the priest. “He told me you are a sinner of the family and that your territory is called the Duchy of Hessen.”

Zhong Ming paused, subtly adding his own conjecture. “He and his family are also descendants of the Count of Hesse. Did you do something terrible to them?”

Zhong Ming looked at the Duke, his voice involuntarily dropping a few notches. “For example, usurping power or something similar?”

The Duke looked at him, the tip of the cigar glowing and fading. Zhong Ming felt a bit guilty under that dark, piercing gaze, but in the next heartbeat, the man spoke: “Yes.”

The Duke said it directly. “I declared war on them and seized their land.”

Zhong Ming’s eyelashes trembled. Simultaneously, a cool breeze blew in through the study window, brushing against his face like a bloody wind blowing across time.

Zhong Ming didn’t know what to say. He lowered his head slightly and whispered tentatively, “…Did they… bully you first?”

Holding the cigar, the Duke looked down with dark eyes. “No.”

Zhong Ming snapped his head up to look at him, his lips thinning. The Duke’s gaze swept over his face, and he said calmly, “The winner takes all. There is no need for anyone to ‘bully’ anyone else.”

Zhong Ming’s breath caught, and he slowly cast his eyes down again.

So it really was like that. When listening to Ye Qing talk about the history, Zhong Ming had an intuition that the man before him was the one who had reunified the once-divided duchy. And the priest was likely a descendant of one of the sons from the original split.

Seeing Zhong Ming’s lowered head, the Duke did not stop his narration: “At that time, this place was split into four pieces, controlled by four different people.” The Duke’s voice was steady, almost as if he were providing an objective historical account. “I killed them all. But perhaps there were those who slipped through the net, allowing a few to survive.”

Zhong Ming’s lips tightened further as he heard the Duke continue in a voice that couldn’t be calmer: “They… proved quite fertile, which is why these people keep popping up now.”

Zhong Ming kept his head down and whispered, “They must hate you very much.”

“Yes,” the Duke said indifferently. “After all, I killed their ancestors, their fathers… and I will kill them too.”

He made no effort to hide his bloody past. Zhong Ming’s breathing grew shallow, and he fell into complete silence.

The Duke finally stopped. He looked at Zhong Ming’s pale, tilted face and took a puff of the cigar.

Zhong Ming didn’t speak for a long time.

The Duke smoked, waiting for him quietly for a while before leaning down. “Are you afraid?”

Because of the angle, the Duke could only see a small portion of his fair profile and his thick lashes fluttering like butterfly wings. Whether from fear or the moonlight, his skin was so pale it was almost translucent.

The Duke stared at him for a moment and leaned closer. “Do you think I’m a bad person?”

His voice was soft, his tone indifferent. It sounded like a casual question, yet also like a seduction.

However, in the next instant, Zhong Ming suddenly raised his head.

His face was icy white and his brows were furrowed. His expression didn’t look like fear; it looked like anger.

The Duke was momentarily stunned.

Zhong Ming glared at him, his pink lips parting slightly. “In other words, you’ve known all along that these players are here to kill you?”

The Duke paused, blinked, and said, “Mm-hmm.”

Zhong Ming’s brow twitched as he narrowed his eyes. “And you just ignore them?”

The Duke’s eyes widened slightly. Then he fell silent.

He indeed hadn’t cared at all. He didn’t even know which players were sent by his ancestral enemies.

Seeing his silence as a confirmation, Zhong Ming’s chest heaved, his lips pressed into a thin line. The look he gave the Duke was stern.

The Duke’s eyes grew even wider; he looked at Zhong Ming with an expression bordering on novelty.

Seeing his nonchalant attitude, Zhong Ming grew angrier, his voice rising. “I’m talking to you.”

The Duke snapped out of it, remembering to answer. He nodded. “Yes.” He truly hadn’t cared. He then naturally added a sentence: “I’m sorry.”

He didn’t actually think he had done anything wrong; he just subconsciously felt he should apologize.

Zhong Ming was momentarily choked up. Because the atmosphere shifted so abruptly, he nearly bit his tongue. He paused, his voice dropping. “What do you have to apologize to me for?”

“I’m sorry,” the Duke said with increasing fluency. The frost in his expression thawed instantly as he reached out to grab Zhong Ming’s hand. “I’ll be careful in the future.”

With a knot of frustration in his chest, Zhong Ming looked down and pulled his hand back. “Who cares about you?”

He doesn’t care at all. The Duke couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. Zhong Ming shot him a cold glance, his expression becoming even more tense.

The Duke immediately stifled his smile. Zhong Ming stared at him for a few moments, then turned to leave.

But with the Duke right there, how could he go anywhere? He was immediately pulled back.

“It was my mistake.” The Duke held him, his hands gripping the shoulders of the struggling Zhong Ming. He leaned down to kiss the corner of Zhong Ming’s forehead. “I’m very happy that you care about me.”

Zhong Ming’s movements stiffened slightly as he felt the man’s kisses move from his temple to his cheek. “I’ll listen to you from now on.”

Because of his anger, the skin on the side of Zhong Ming’s face was flushed and hot. Now, with the warm kisses pressed against his cheek, it turned an even deeper shade of red. In his agitated state, a few beads of sweat even formed at his temples.

“You’re sweating so much.” The Duke brushed his thumb over Zhong Ming’s temple. With one arm around him, he brought the cigar to Zhong Ming’s lips with his other hand. “Here, this will help you calm down.”

The tobacco wrapped in the cigar emitted a faint fragrance.

Zhong Ming glanced at it, frowned, and shook his head. “I don’t smoke.”

“Little liar.” The Duke exposed him mercilessly, gently stroking Zhong Ming’s chin with his right hand and lifting his face: “Try it.”

Held in a half-embrace, Zhong Ming was coaxed into taking the cigar into his mouth.

Surprisingly, the cigar didn’t have a heavy tobacco smell; instead, it had a light, fruity aroma. It tasted better than he had imagined. The cool smoke filled his mouth. Leaning against the Duke’s chest, he took a few puffs and indeed began to relax.

Seeing his brow smooth out, the Duke smiled and took the cigar back, placing it in his own mouth.

Zhong Ming froze for a second. A flash of a memory crossed his mind.

In his memory, it seemed someone else had once coaxed him into smoking his first cigar. After letting him have a taste, that person had pulled back and looked down at him with a half-smile: Do you like it?

Zhong Ming remembered shaking his head hesitantly.

At that, the person’s face seemed to turn cold instantly. They looked at him with dissatisfaction, let out a sneer, and patted Zhong Ming’s cheek: Little thing who doesn’t know good stuff.

Who was that? Zhong Ming grasped at the wisp of inspiration, but it vanished instantly. He couldn’t help but daze off.

In the next moment, the Duke’s voice sounded in his ear: “What’s wrong?”

Zhong Ming came back to his senses to find the cigar back at his lips. The Duke smiled at him. “What are you staring at?”

Zhong Ming shook his head and bit down on the cigar. Amidst the sweet fruity fragrance, he suddenly remembered that the man had just smoked from this same one.

But the Duke’s smile was so pleasant it was hard to stay angry.

Zhong Ming pursed his lips and lowered his eyes. He felt a bit lethargic and didn’t want to argue with the man.

The two of them finished the cigar together. It had to be said that although tobacco was a bad thing, there was a reason it was so popular among humans. Zhong Ming’s nerves felt mostly softened. He leaned, half-melted, into the Duke’s embrace. Looking past his shoulder at the window, he realized the cold, white moon had already climbed past the treetops.

…It was already so late.

After a long day of turmoil, Zhong Ming was exhausted. He rested his head on the man’s firm chest, his eyelids becoming too heavy to keep open.

“Sleepy?”

The Duke placed the small, burnt-out butt of the cigar into the ashtray and turned to him. “Do you want to sleep?”

Hearing those words, Zhong Ming’s nerves instinctively tightened. He forced himself to perk up and look up. “I want to go back to my room.”

The Duke paused and kissed the top of his head. “Take a bath first.”

A bath? Zhong Ming frowned. “I can wash myself.”

“I’m afraid you’ll fall asleep in there,” the Duke said. “The bathtub here is quite large.”

Zhong Ming wanted to say more, but he was led deeper into the study by the Duke. The room was much larger than it appeared. It was only when he was led further inside that Zhong Ming realized he had never truly seen the full extent of this study.

Behind those rows of bookshelves, there was an entirely different world.

Zhong Ming stared at the uniquely decorated bedroom before him, his eyes widening. In the very center of the room sat a striking red bed. The wooden frame was classical in design, with exquisite patterns carved into the four bedposts. The mattress was thick and high, reminiscent of the Princess and the Pea. Even more eye-catching was its deep crimson hue; the red velvet bed curtains were tied to the posts, and the sheets and blankets were equally red. Its presence alone felt like a jarring rift in time and space.

“Rest here for a moment.”

The Duke led him to the bedside and had him sit down. “I’ll go draw your bath.”

With that, before Zhong Ming could react, the Duke reached up and untied the bed curtains, gathering them carefully together.

Darkness instantly enveloped him. Zhong Ming sat on the soft mattress. The velvet curtains were exceptionally light-proof; not a single ray of outside light could penetrate them.

The sound of the man’s footsteps gradually faded into the distance.

Zhong Ming was already exhausted, and in the darkness, sleepiness surged over him almost instantly. He let out a yawn, unable to hold out any longer, and lay down on his side.

Just a short rest… he thought, slowly closing his eyes.

However, once his eyes closed, he fell into a deep sleep.

After an unknown amount of time, he frowned, as if sensing something in his dreams, and drifted awake. Opening his eyes, he stiffened with a delayed realization. Glancing to the side, he saw the faint light of dawn outside the window.

How long had he been asleep?

Zhong Ming’s eyes went wide. At that moment, acting on a sudden intuition, he looked toward the corner of the room.

A dark figure was sitting there.

He had one leg crossed over the other, and a book lay face down on the table beside his right hand. He was staring fixedly in Zhong Ming’s direction.

It was the Duke.

He sat there in the darkness, watching Zhong Ming without making a sound. He said nothing even after Zhong Ming woke up.

A wave of goosebumps erupted down Zhong Ming’s back. He couldn’t help but shrink back toward the headboard, feeling a strange sense of oppression from the man’s gaze.

The Duke’s gaze was calm and not particularly aggressive, but his dark pupils reflected no light at all, looking somewhat somber. His stillness in the dark carried an indescribable air, less like a gesture of cherishing and more like something perverse, like a dragon guarding its prey.

Zhong Ming shuddered. It took a long moment for him to find his voice. “…Your Grace.”

The man seemed to be deep in thought. Seeing Zhong Ming speak, he raised his eyes and curled his lips into a faint smile.

“You’re awake.” The Duke turned his head to glance out the window. “It’s still early. Why not sleep a bit longer?”

Zhong Ming felt his attitude was slightly off, though he couldn’t put his finger on why. He knit his brows slightly. “Um… I’m alright.”

Zhong Ming carefully observed the Duke’s expression; it looked as though he hadn’t slept at all. Zhong Ming’s voice dropped even lower.

“Your Grace… do you not need to sleep?”

The Duke lowered his eyes, removing the hand that had been resting against his temple. “No, I do not require sleep.”

His tone was flat, betraying nothing unusual. He remained direct in his answers, yet Zhong Ming still felt a lingering sense of oddity.

He frowned, and as he puzzled over it, his gaze suddenly swept over something and froze.

Aided by the sliver of light filtering in from the window, he clearly saw the book resting in the Duke’s hand.

It wasn’t a book at all. It was Ye Qing’s notebook.

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