[AFYC] Chapter 3

The waiter’s presence became unnecessary once they entered the corridor leading to the private chambers. The Duke’s secretary was already waiting anxiously at the door, his face a mask of barely concealed panic. He knew what was at stake, and the arrival of the Marquis of Reinhardt, without the Duke being prepared to receive him, spelt trouble. 

Oscar Reinhardt did not tolerate delays or excuses. His reputation for ruthless efficiency was well-known, and any deviation from the schedule could be interpreted as an insult. The secretary’s hands trembled as he prepared to inform the Marquis of the situation, fully aware that the consequences of any misstep could be severe. 

But the secretary’s resolve faltered as the Marquis and his men approached. Oscar’s presence was overwhelming, a reminder that only the strongest and most decisive survived in the world of power. The secretary swallowed hard, his mind racing to find a way to salvage the situation, but deep down, he knew that whatever happened next was beyond his control, for Oscar Reinhardt had arrived.

The marquis’s unyielding steps came to a halt a few paces before the door, and as if on cue, the four men following him stopped just as abruptly.

The Duke’s secretary, pale with anxiety since catching sight of the marquis, looked like he was about to faint. His was not the only face that had turned white as a sheet. The noisy clatter of shoes suddenly stopped, and a heavy silence descended as if it were a tangible presence. But that silence was soon marred by a distinctly uncomfortable sound that began to emerge.

“Ah... Uhn...!”

“Do you like it? Have you become this wet from pleasure?”

“Yes... Yes, Your Highness...”

“More... suck harder, more.”

It was as if the scene beyond the door was vividly painted in their minds.

The marquis let out a snort of disbelief. Chuckling softly for a long moment, he finally wiped his face with a hand and then spoke to the trembling secretary in a gentle tone.

“Go ahead and announce me and open the door.”

“Y-Your Grace...”

“Open the door.”

The grand duke’s secretary looked desperately toward Kathryn, who was standing at a distance as if clinging to the last shred of hope.

Kathryn quickly nudged Anna forward.

People often fear the fist that is close by more than the authority that is far away. This was Felphe, and here, the grand duke’s secretary was a more immediate threat than the young marquis of Luxen.

Anna pushed forward against her will and suddenly found herself surrounded by the four men who had been following the marquis. The marquis, who had been looking straight ahead the entire time, finally turned around. He then addressed Kathryn, the mistress of the Arman Rose estate and a long-serving courtesan.

“Do you have the key?”

When neither Kathryn nor Anna, standing nearby, could manage to do more than gape like a fish out of water, he smiled.

Was his unkempt black hair just a ploy to set up this smile? The eyes that had seemed so deep and shadowed now gleamed a striking shade of blue, and a small dimple appeared beneath his well-shaped lips.

That smile made this rugged, mature man seem almost boyish, causing everyone to momentarily forget the danger he exuded just moments before.

After leaving everyone slightly off-kilter with his smile, he slowly nodded.

“All right then.”

Then he turned to face forward once more.

Everyone, including Anna, held their breath, feeling like they were balanced on the blade’s edge.

“Ah! Ah, Your Highness... Your Highness...!”

The trouble was that those on the other side of the door, who one would hope might sense the tension, were far too engrossed in their debauchery.

Oscar took his time walking up to the door, from which the sounds of obscene moaning continuously seeped, threatening to corrupt all who heard. Staring at the door, he made a final assessment of the consequences of his actions and the opportunity costs involved.

The deliberation didn’t take long.

Oscar shoved his hand into his pocket. Then, with a glance towards the men behind him, they immediately stepped forward, striding confidently towards the door that led to the Duke’s room and-

Bang!

They forced it open with ease.

As the plump backside of the woman shook up and down, the nasal moans grew even more explicit. When the man roughly grabbed her breasts as if to tear them apart, she ground her pelvis even harder against his erect member, rubbing with abandon.

“Ha... more... more... Shake it harder.”

At the man’s command, the woman beneath him, moving with increasing ferocity, intensified her pace.