One Day My Sister Died - chapter 27

**Chapter 27. I Wonder What You Taste Like**

Yuan quickly hid her expression, worried that someone might have seen it.

She then glanced around to check if there had been any commotion, before hastily returning to Claude’s side.

***

“What a fine couple they make.”

“Right? Don’t they look like a perfect match?”

The First Prince, Bolonico, eagerly answered.

Emperor Igor, with his greasy hands still stained with chicken fat, stroked his beard and grinned slyly.

His yellow teeth were fully exposed as he nodded and guzzled down his wine as if it were moonshine.

Indeed.

His nephew, whose decaying half of the face was hidden, was an exceptionally handsome man, as if carved from stone.

And the small woman beside him was as beautiful as a watercolor painting by a famous artist.

They were a fine couple to behold.

“Felice… Felice…”

The First Prince Bolonico stared at his father’s face as if trying to decipher what he was thinking.

There’s something about Felice.

There’s definitely some secret in Felice.

Bolonico tried to read the emperor’s expression to find out anything, but ultimately, it was in vain.

The fleeting glint in the emperor’s icy blue eyes disappeared quickly, and as he looked closer, it seemed, as always, that he was just a drunk fool.

“The taste was rather good.”

The emperor replied in a rough voice.

Bolonico briefly expressed his annoyance with his eyebrows but soon smiled like a doll.

“Well then, enjoy your meal.”

After all, there was plenty of time.

Even if he hadn’t gotten the reaction he wanted, watching an entertaining show was enough for now.

***

The rough and unrestrained party, fit for hunters, was well underway.

Though there was no music or dancing, it was still quite a strange party.

As the emperor’s close aides got drunk and started disappearing one by one to their rooms, Emperor Igor left, shouting that he needed to “empty himself”—a crude way of saying he was going to the bathroom. Yuan was horrified to witness him yelling as he exited the hall.

She kept meeting her uncle’s gaze.

It felt like she might suffocate, and sitting beside him, enduring her aunt’s murderous glare, was unbearable. And what about her cousins sitting in a row beside her aunt?

Frederick still didn’t acknowledge her presence. The moment their eyes met, he didn’t even bother to nod, as if she was beneath him. Regina, meanwhile, seemed quite pleased with the words she had just dumped on Yuan, sipping a non-alcoholic drink with a charming smile.

Yuan no longer had any reason to endure their abuse. But it would be better if she didn’t confront them, if possible.

This was a gathering in the emperor’s presence.

If Yuan caused a scene while Claude, the host of the mansion, remained silent, it would be deeply problematic for her.

Overwhelmed with stress and a splitting headache, Yuan decided it would be best to pretend to be drunk like the other nobles and leave to sleep.

When she asked the butler, he said it would not be considered rude to leave, as the welcome party was essentially over.

Since both the emperor and Claude had stepped out, there was a chance her uncle might slyly approach her to drink together.

She had already dealt with Regina, and Frederick was just a fool, so running into him would only irritate her.

The emperor’s subtle gaze, which had been quietly observing her throughout the party.

The suspicious smirk constantly hangs on the lips of the First Prince Bolonico.

The relentless stares of her uncle, trying to make eye contact with her while Claude remained silent like a doll.

It was all too much, and Yuan felt dizzy just from the tension. She had to leave.

With a fragile smile, she told the butler she was stepping out, and then took her first step into the hallway.

Once she entered the familiar hallway that led to the main building, she finally felt like she could breathe again.

So much had happened in just one day.

The emperor, the prince, the high-ranking nobles… But at least her uncle, Count Felice, hadn’t managed to approach her.

‘If I can just survive one more day beside Claude…’

As Yuan thought this—

A large hand suddenly wrapped around her waist in the darkened hallway and pulled her close.

Startled to the point of losing her breath, Yuan looked up to see piercing blue eyes bearing down on her.

“Where do you think you’re going, smelling so delicious?”

It was Emperor Igor Yufrees.

In the dim corridor, far from the noise, Yuan was now helplessly trapped in his grasp, with his lustful gaze fixed on her.

“Y-Your Majesty?”

“Hmm?”

“W-Why are you doing this—?”

Yuan already knew that Emperor Igor was a brute, even before today.

There were countless people who had suffered under his tyrannical rule, and she vividly recalled how her uncle had grumbled that even the neutral Felice had no choice but to align with his son, Bolonico.

But this—this was…

“I… I belong to the master Claude…”

“How dare you speak of ownership to the emperor?”

The emperor’s strength was overwhelming.

The figure that loomed over Yuan was about five times her size, but unlike her uncle’s bloated frame, the emperor was firm and brimming with strength.

His large, hairy hand brazenly groped Yuan’s waist, while his reddened nose rubbed against the nape of her neck.

As the emperor’s hot breath hit her, the stench of alcohol assaulted her nose. Yuan held her breath and looked around, hoping to see someone in the deserted hallway.

“Hmm? You don’t like it here?”

‘Is it okay to say no out loud?’

Yuan recalled the news articles she had read about people who had fallen out of favor with Emperor Igor and lost their heads. Trembling, she nodded.

“I… I don’t like it…”

“But I like it here. It’s beautiful. My dark, huge trophy, my hideous decoration and…”

The emperor grinned as he stared straight into her confused eyes.

“And there’s also some delicious food here.”

“I-I can guide you back to the party…”

At the mention of “delicious food,” Yuan, reminded of how the emperor had ravenously devoured his meal earlier, tried to wriggle out of his hold.

But Emperor Igor only found her struggle amusing, laughing as if she were a playful animal throwing a tantrum. His grin stretched wider, a madman’s smile.

“I wonder what you taste like.”

His icy blue eyes roamed over her tear-filled eyes, her delicate jawline, and her disheveled black hair.

“And how you’ll cry.”

What would happen if she screamed?

Would her voice be muffled and swallowed up right away?

Or would she be dragged off somewhere, helpless?

Could anyone save her from this man—even the likes of Marquis Companni, Marquis Reve, or Claude, the owner of this mansion?

Yuan bit her lip hard, trying to keep up the pretense of supporting the drunk emperor, hoping to escape somehow.

Tears, born from the deep despair she had been suppressing since the moment the emperor first bit her hand as if he would devour it, began to spill over.

And just as if the emperor had been waiting for that, his face lowered closer to hers.

“Your Majesty.”

Out of nowhere, Claude’s voice cut through the darkness.

It was the same as always—painfully calm and low.

Yuan couldn’t believe how relieved she felt to hear the voice she had once thought so indifferent.

“Ah, you’ve come, Claude.”

The emperor, still burying his nose in Yuan’s hair, smiled slyly.

Despite being caught in such a vile act, there wasn’t a hint of embarrassment on his face.

Yuan, desperate and helpless, looked up at Claude, who stood just a few steps away.

She hugged herself tightly, struggling to fend off the emperor’s creeping hands, and in that moment of despair, she called out to him, even though she resented relying on him.

“Master.”

Emperor Igor was insane. He was a tyrant who defied reason and decency.

Like a small animal trapped in a pit, Yuan struggled desperately.

“Master…”

Her voice trembled with tears as she called out to her husband once more, desperately.

For a fleeting moment, Claude’s eyes landed on her desperate face, but then they shifted away.

That was all.

Claude walked right past them, heading toward the bright, noisy party hall.

As if none of it had anything to do with him.

Watching his shadow stretch out behind him, Yuan felt as if her world had ended.

She knew better than anyone that she had no right to scream at him, to demand why he wasn’t saving his wife.

As Yuan sank into despair, the emperor smiled with satisfaction, pulling her even tighter into his embrace.

And then, at that moment—

“Master.”

A large hand suddenly gripped Emperor Igor’s shoulder firmly, pulling him back.

The emperor’s face, which had been filled with a sinister grin, stiffened instantly.

Yuan, trembling, clenched her jaw and looked over the emperor’s massive shoulder to see who had intervened.

It was Claude.

Claude had come back.

His expression was indifferent, as if nothing unusual was happening, and he spoke to Emperor Igor in a calm, steady voice.

“Did you know?”

The emperor’s face broke into a wide smile, though his eyes remained bloodshot with barely suppressed rage.

“Claude. Are you here to save this woman?”

His tone was mocking as he held Yuan tighter, his grip so strong that she felt like her circulation was being cut off.

“Hmm? Are you here to rescue your beloved wife?”

Claude chuckled quietly in response, as if the very notion was absurd. He didn’t even glance in Yuan’s direction.

The emperor, observing Claude’s detached demeanor, found it amusing. Yuan, however, felt a chilling unease settle over her as the emperor scrutinized her nephew’s every move.

“Is there anything more entertaining than this?”

Igor’s thick, oversized hand gripped Yuan’s waist firmly, lifting her slightly off the ground as he pressed his face into her neck again, deliberately showing off in front of Claude.

Yuan shuddered violently, tears streaming uncontrollably down her face.

In that moment, Claude’s violet eyes, reflecting the faint party lights behind him, shimmered briefly, like a fake gemstone catching the light. His smile, equally hollow, flickered across his face for just a moment.

“There is,” Claude said quietly.

With that, Claude reached up and, for the first time since facing the emperor, removed the half-mask he always wore.

The grotesque sight beneath—a face twisted by scars and deformity—was revealed, pointed directly at the emperor. The grotesque visage, an undeniable reminder of something monstrous, made Igor hesitate.

The grip Igor had on Yuan, which moments before had seemed unbreakable, slackened and then released entirely.

The night was deep, and though the length of time it took for this transformation to manifest had lessened somewhat, Claude knew it was only a matter of time before the seething agony within him would overtake his body completely.

Yuan, still wiping her tear-streaked face, shook her head in protest.

No. No, this can’t happen.

But before she could do anything, before she could even voice her fears, Claude turned and began leading the emperor down the corridor, toward its farthest, darkest end.