I Became a Slave to the Man I Abandoned Novel (Completed) - Chapter 21

But reality was quite different. The butler immediately reported Nox’s request to find Khalid to Olga, Nox’s mother. Perhaps Olga had given instructions beforehand. No, Nox was certain she had. How much had his mother, bedridden in her chamber, foreseen?

As his mother had said, with two men in the household enchanted by that young boy, how disgusting it must have been for her.

That night, the night Nox asked for Khalid to be found, his mother summoned Nox to her room. Nox, filled with unease, headed to her chamber. His mother’s condition had worsened to the point where she couldn’t get out of bed without assistance. Yet her eyes, those eyes, were always vibrant and sharp. Like a beast that had just found its prey. Nox thought that he wasn’t like his mother. Perhaps, as his mother had said, he resembled his dirty father. Nox asked, head bowed before his mother,

“You called for me?”

“Do you know why I called you?”

Nox swallowed hard, feigning ignorance.

“I do not.”

“There’s nothing funnier than pretending not to know what you already do. Are you trying to put on a play with me?”

“…”

“You asked for that child to be found, didn’t you?”

“Mother, that child is…”

“Don’t touch him.” Before the words could fully leave his mouth, Olga’s voice cut in.

“I don’t know where that child is either. His whereabouts became unknown a few months after he was cast out. Perhaps he even died. Even if his wounds were cared for, it’s not a kind land for a child to survive alone.”

Nox’s chest tightened at her words. His mother already knew how he had treated Khalid. Yet, she had pretended not to know, giving him one last chance. And today, Nox had crossed that final line. Seeking that child—that must have been Olga’s last boundary.

“He… he can’t have died.” He instinctively refuted the suggestion of Khalid’s death. He had treated his wounds and given him money. A letter of recommendation, too. Perhaps he’d found work in some noble house and gone to a distant territory. Nox wanted to believe that. He didn’t want to think Khalid was dead. Nox’s fingertips trembled subtly. Olga watched his trembling fingertips with a scornful gaze and let out a hollow laugh.

“I didn’t call you here today to talk about that boy.”

“If not that, then…”

“As your mother, shouldn’t I correct you when the sole heir of our family is infatuated with something so strange?”

Nox was speechless. The door opened, and someone entered. The head maid, Maeta, was coming in, holding a whip. The very whip that had struck Khalid. Nox felt his body stiffen as he turned to look at her. His mother’s servants stood on either side of Nox.

“Mother…!”

“I will set your mind straight. How dare you, after only a year, try to find that child again? You cannot be defective. Now that I can no longer bear an heir, you must be perfect. You cannot be infatuated with such a boy.”

The servants immediately grabbed Nox’s arms and forced him to his knees on the floor. Olga, still seated on her bed, gestured to the head maid. Maeta’s hand trembled, but she ultimately raised the whip—the same whip that had struck Khalid. And as Olga wished, she brought it down.

Smack!

“Kh—!”

Nox gritted his teeth. His back burned. It was a searing pain, like being branded by fire. With just one strike, he felt blood trickle from his skin.

“Continue.”

Smack, crack!

Maeta began to strike relentlessly. Instead of screaming, Nox bit down hard on his lower lip, enduring until blood oozed out. Olga gazed down at Nox with a cold expression, her face utterly unchanging. Nox looked up at his mother, Olga. Her expression showed only a clear resolve to correct a wrong. Nox wanted to laugh, but he couldn’t. The whip lashing his back inflicted a torment like being seared, and the fabric of his shirt progressively tore, exposing his skin.

Gasp, hack. Cold sweat began to stream to the floor. Nox could no longer distinguish whether what flowed down his forehead was sweat or blood. But Olga gave no command to stop the whipping.

Smack, smack!

Even with the back of his clothes torn and the skin beneath completely ripped open, exposing raw flesh, Olga steadfastly watched the scene. Nox, still kneeling, collapsed to the floor. When he fell, the servants beside him grabbed his arms and forced his back upright again. His back was dyed red to the point where there was no longer any clear skin to strike. It was as if all the skin on his back had been peeled away.

As Maeta, the head maid wielding the whip, hesitated, Olga spoke.

“You still won’t utter the words ‘I was wrong’?”

“…Hnngh, huff.”

“You still refuse to admit your mistake…”

Olga gritted her teeth. Nox’s eyes were half-rolled back. He was barely clinging to consciousness. Olga looked at him and, with a cold expression, rebuked him.

“From now on, each time the wounds on your back heal, you will come to me.”

Her voice was thick with stubborn resolve.

“I will hear you say you were wrong.”

Upon hearing those words, Nox fainted. The servants caught him. The blood flowing from his back stained the carpet. The servants urgently carried him to the family’s healer.

“Young Master, what do we do?”

“Is the Mistress really going to whip him every time his wounds heal?”

“He’s the only heir to the family; how can this be happening?”

“Should we tell the Duke?”

“…The Duke won’t be able to say a word in front of the Mistress, though.”

Nox heard their whispered words amidst his feverish dizziness. They were right. Even with his mother bedridden, his father couldn’t stand up to her. And Nox had no desire for his father’s help. So Nox went to the healer and had his back treated. And each time his wounds healed, he was whipped once more under Olga’s command.

Until he begged her, admitting his fault. But he had never begged her, not even when Olga grew so frail she could no longer speak.

Truly.

Not once.

***

Clatter.

With a sound, the carriage stopped. Nox, lost in thought, suddenly roused himself and lifted his head. The door opened. As the carriage door swung open, Nox’s thoughts, which had been overflowing like water, spilled out. And soon, nothing remained. He stepped out of the carriage the coachman had opened for him.

A lavish banquet hall. The place where his father had died. Where countless other nobles had perished, and where he had lost everything.

As Nox stepped out of the carriage, he began to hear a commotion around him. Having received no specific instructions, Nox stood there for a moment, looking around. Most were familiar faces. People who used to gather around him in groups of two or three whenever he rarely appeared in society. But now, those same people were avoiding him. No, they were covering their mouths and laughing in mockery.

“The rumors were true.”

“From Duke’s heir to a slave…”

“The new Duke’s concubine, they say?”

“I’d rather bite my tongue and die.”

Anger should have flared within him, but somehow, Nox felt no rage. Perhaps it was because he knew he had to get used to it, or maybe he simply expected nothing from them. Like a slave who had received no specific orders, he stepped back from the main path and stood his ground. He saw a few other attendants in similar positions nearby, but Nox was not an attendant—he was a slave. Everyone looked at the bolo tie around his neck. Ah, this will be my face from now on, Nox thought.

He stood for a long time amidst the whispering nobles. They would openly stare at Nox’s face as they passed by, or scrutinize him from head to toe. About ten people gave up counting the faint sneers directed his way. Nox stood with his hands clasped behind his back, looking straight ahead. He never averted his gaze, no matter who scoffed or clicked their tongue. How much time passed like that?

Someone approached him. The man who came forward wore a brooch on his chest that only the Emperor’s attendants were allowed to wear.

“The Duke calls for you.”

“Ah, yes.”

The attendant raised an eyebrow at his response, as if surprised. But without another reaction, he immediately turned and began to walk. Nox moved simultaneously to keep pace with him. As he walked, people’s gazes clung to him, thick and persistent. Some covered their mouths with fans and laughed, others openly frowned. Yet, because of the bolo tie around his neck, they didn’t dare speak to him. The accusations from those who only knew how to grovel before Khalid, who had decapitated the crown prince and ascended to the dukedom, held no particular emotional impact for Nox. No, they should have no emotional impact.

Passing through the gold-adorned doors and entering a hall that seemed to be built of pure gold, it felt as if a different world unfolded. This space was very familiar to Nox, but from this moment on, it would be the most unfamiliar world. It was his first step, not as the only son of the Rainerio ducal house, but as someone’s slave.