Maylily - Chapter 73

Since arriving in Prowden, the Count of Everscourt had clawed at Maylily’s heart with the word ‘mistress’ every time she displeased him, as if handing down punishment.

Knowing the twisted intention behind it made her want even more to stay composed, but Maylily ended up looking flustered despite her will. A touch of mockery flickered in the deep blue eyes looking down at her.

“It seems you’re still lacking awareness of your role, Maylily.”

His hand slowly slid up her upper arm, and with a cold air lingering around him, he unfastened the top button of her dress. As if to imprint her role clearly into her right here.

Startled, Maylily struck his hand away sharply and stepped back.

“I’m fully aware that I’m your mistress. But I also want to do my best as a singer.”

Her voice came out sharper than she intended as she glared at the Count, but she soon softened her gaze. It hit her suddenly that she’d never persuade him if she kept acting like this.

Standing where he had been just moments ago with his arms quietly crossed, the Count wore a faint smile. He watched each reaction Maylily showed, weighing them in his mind as he considered what to do with her.

It was humiliating, but there was no other option. In a situation where she had no choice but to rely on his goodwill, pride alone solved nothing. Releasing a thin breath to calm her agitation, Maylily approached the Count carefully.

“You said you’d continue to sponsor me. I came here because I trusted that promise. So… as my patron, couldn’t you please understand and support my work as a singer?”

With a voice soft as melody, Maylily pressed her hand gently around Hugh’s shirt sleeve, her plea earnest. As Hugh stroked his neatly shaved chin, his gaze turned toward her face.

Those large eyes begging him to look at her. Whether intentional or not, it was cunning.

Right now, there was no space in the woman’s head for him, consumed as she was by her passion for singing and the stage. Yet those eyes, shining as if filled only with Hugh, seemed to whisper for him to lay her down anywhere and take her roughly.

“I want to stand on stage as a soloist next season. If I miss this chance, I’ll have to wait another year.”

Lowering his gaze, Hugh expected Maylily’s hand to move more boldly across him. But perhaps she misunderstood, because she quickly pulled her hand away. Then, with an innocent expression as if she had no idea what she’d just done to him, she pleaded again.

“Please, I’m begging you, Count.”

“If I get you the soloist position and the role, will that solve the problem?”

At his response, which came after a long silence, Maylily widened her eyes and shook her head frantically. “No, no! That’s not what I meant….”

“No need to refuse. It’s common in any opera company for a patron to put their sponsored singer in the position they want. You should know that better than I do.”

“But I… I want to participate in the audition and prove that I have the skill to earn that position.”

“Are you confident you can win the soloist spot without my help?”

The question pierced her directly, and Maylily froze for a moment. She knew it too well. Even if she performed brilliantly at the audition, visible achievement didn’t always follow.

Opera companies’ decisions were constantly influenced by external factors. She’d seen and heard enough during her time in the company to know she couldn’t answer recklessly.

Lost in thought for a moment, her fingers fidgeted before Maylily finally opened her mouth again.

“Even if I do my absolute best at the audition, I won’t have any regrets regardless of the outcome. Everything beyond that is outside my control, so I believe I have no choice but to accept it humbly.”

“That’s not it, Maylily.”

At her innocent answer, Hugh let out a soft, derisive laugh and slowly shook his head.

“Now that people know you’re my singer, it won’t do for you to remain a background figure on stage. I want everyone in the Riverton Empire to know that I cherish you.”

So no one would dare lay a hand on you.

Hugh judged it far more useful to hold on to Maylily’s dream as a weakness rather than destroy it.

So instead of taking the stage away from her, he intended to carve his name deeply into her. So that everyone who saw Maylily on stage would know she belonged to Hugh Skaard.

“….”

Unaware of any of this, Maylily’s eyes trembled helplessly at the casual way he said he cherished her. Her cheeks quickly flushed rose‑pink.

Her face, glowing with raw emotion, satisfied Hugh greatly. The irritation and thirst she’d stirred in him the moment she seemed to be scheming to slip out of his grasp vanished as if washed away.

“I’ll take care of your role. You can prove yourself on stage. That’s more certain, isn’t it?”

At the firm conclusion delivered in a gentle voice, Maylily parted her lips with lingering reluctance.

“Still… could you at least let me participate in the audition? I believe that’s the minimum courtesy and duty owed to the members competing alongside me.”

“I can’t send you alone to Roden while Heywood is there. Courtesy and duty are important, but your safety comes first.”

At the mention of Victor Heywood, Maylily first looked frightened, then resigned. As her expression dulled with gloom, Hugh stroked her hair like soothing a child, a faint dimple appearing on his cheek.

“So while we’re in Prowden, let’s each stay true to our roles. I’ll be your patron, and you’ll be my mistress.”

***

It was a wretched day. To blow all the money he’d scraped together through desperate effort in a single game.

“Damn it!”

Storming out of the gambling house, Victor kicked an empty bottle rolling on the street as hard as he could. Still not satisfied, he spat out a string of curses. The bright moon and the gentle night breeze only irritated him further.

It had been five days since Victor returned to the gambling den he’d avoided for a while. It was the day after he’d paid off his debts with the money he’d received from Hugh Skaard as Maylily’s price.

“I’m finally free, Pamela. I really did it in the end!”

On the day he threw a stack of cash at Marcus Cobb, Victor had hugged Pamela and screamed with laughter and tears like a madman. He was completely swept up in the exhilaration of believing he’d given himself a second life.

Casting off the shackles that had bound him for months made him feel as though his heart could float away. Freedom lost once and regained tasted sweeter than any liquor.

But it all lasted only an instant.

It took less than a day for Victor to remember the massive loss caused by the failed marriage negotiations with Viscount Dawson.

Even after selling off what he considered the greatest achievement of his life—his young, pretty daughter—he still hadn’t escaped the shabby backstreets of Buhin. Just when the emptiness and futility that had filled his chest began to fade, anger and resentment suddenly surged up.

If those two brats hadn’t screwed around together, he wouldn’t be living in this miserable state.

Seeking something strong enough to drown out the late‑coming sense of defeat, Victor naturally thought of the gambling den. When he drank, smoked, and immersed himself in gambling there, he could forget all the noisy thoughts clawing at his mind, at least for those moments.

That was how he spent five days. After paying off his debts, the small amount of money he had left had been slowly eaten away at the gambling tables, until it was nearly gone.

Would he even be able to scrape together enough to keep himself alive? It had only been a few days since he’d screamed in joy over finding a new life. Yet Victor was already being crushed under the weight of that life.

Leaving the street blazing with lantern light, he turned into a dim alley and put a cigarette between his lips. By the time he finished smoking it, he’d reached the front of the apartment building. Before going inside, he lit another cigarette. The heavy smoke sank into the dark as he exhaled a sigh.

After grinding the lit end of the cigarette against the ground to put it out, Victor trudged into the building. Carrying the stink of alcohol in his slow steps, he climbed the stairs and reached his door, only to find it open.

“As always, that useless woman….”

Scowling, Victor shoved the door wide open and stepped inside, shouting irritably.

“Pamela!”

The next moment, he saw the hallway in complete disarray, furniture and belongings yanked out and thrown everywhere. As Victor’s eyes widened, Pamela’s desperate scream burst from deeper inside the house.

“Run, Victor! Hurry!”