Quietly Hiding that I am a Man chapter 169- Fake Execution

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“Perfect,” Carlisle murmured, testing the bathwater with his hand as he sat on the edge of the tub.

He gestured for Jeanne to approach.

Reluctantly, Jeanne stepped closer, his expression rife with displeasure.

Carlisle chuckled, his voice teasing.

“Waiting for me to undress you?”

Scowling deeply, Jeanne began unbuttoning his shirt in frustration but paused.

His hands, still unsteady from the aftereffects of the poison, trembled so badly that even undoing buttons was a challenge.

Growing increasingly irate, he grabbed at the fabric, ready to rip it, but Carlisle clicked his tongue and took over.

“Stop it. Let me handle it. That temper of yours.”

“You’re just enjoying this, aren’t you?” Jeanne retorted coldly.

Carlisle hesitated briefly before resuming.

“Of course. I finally get you all to myself.”

“…”

“In your reality, I’m the constant. Jerome? He’s nothing but a dream you couldn’t achieve. That’s why you’re drawn to him—people are always more captivated by what they can’t have.”

“Just like you,” Jeanne shot back, his voice weary.

After a moment, he discarded the rest of his clothes. He hadn’t bathed in days, and the discomfort was unbearable.

Perhaps if Carlisle saw him in his entirety, the man might finally lose interest.

Carlisle’s lips twitched into an amused smirk as he openly assessed Jeanne’s naked form.

Ignoring him, Jeanne stepped into the tub.

“Not bad,” Carlisle quipped.

“Better than yours, I’d bet.”

“You blush constantly around Jerome, yet you don’t even flinch in front of me.”

“Save the nonsense. I’m too tired to argue.”

Jeanne leaned his head back against the tub, closing his eyes.

His whole body ached after the earlier commotion.

The rhythmic drip of water filled the humid bathroom.

Drifting into a light doze, Jeanne felt a hand stroke his hair—a touch that carried both pity and longing. Without opening his eyes, he murmured,

“Something happened?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re in a worse mood than usual.”

“…”

“Sometimes, you’re worse at hiding your emotions than Jerome is. Didn’t you realize that?”

A silence hung heavy between them before Carlisle finally spoke, his voice even.

“You’re… crueler than you think.”

Jeanne swatted his hand away.

Unlike before, Carlisle didn’t resist and leaned back against the chair, speaking casually.

“There’s trouble brewing. The Kaisar Empire and the Kingdom of Rod share a border. With Rod in the midst of civil war, refugees are flooding into the Empire.”

“…”

“The problem is, these refugees have turned to banditry out of desperation, even attacking villages and stealing crops. The damage is severe.”

Carlisle rubbed his face tiredly. Jeanne, lost in thought, finally turned to him.

“Then why not deal with them?”

“They’ve occupied an abandoned fortress and turned it into a settlement. Luke suggested cutting off their water supply—they’ll come out on their own if they’re desperate enough.”

“…”

“What would you do?”

Jeanne’s usually vacant eyes sparkled with sudden intensity.

Carlisle smiled faintly, recognizing the shift.

Jeanne hesitated before narrowing his eyes.

“Why ask me?”

“I’m curious about your thoughts.”

“Just follow Luke’s plan.”

“If you come up with a better solution, I’ll let you leave this place.”

The offer made Jeanne pause, visibly tempted.

Stammering, he suggested,

“Why not offer them a chance? The Kingdom of Rod is renowned for its skilled artisans. What if you accepted refugees under the condition that they share their expertise?”

“Extend an opportunity?”

“Yes. That way, they won’t resort to theft. And the Kaisar Empire could benefit from generations of craftsmanship. Establish a proper refugee policy…”

Jeanne trailed off, realizing with a sinking feeling that he had fallen into Carlisle’s psychological trap.

He was supposed to be defying him, yet here he was, engaging in his games.

“You can stay here, mourning Jerome forever,” Carlisle said softly.

“…”

“Or you can achieve something far greater with me.”

“Something ‘great’?”

“Yes, establishing a nation and creating laws.”

Establishing a nation and creating laws—it was undoubtedly a far greater endeavor than endlessly yearning for the deceased.

Jeanne hesitated briefly before lowering her gaze and speaking.

“Staying here alone all the time… It feels suffocating, like I’m losing my mind.”

“…”

“I’m not saying I’m going to leave to search for Jerome. Just let me get some fresh air. Anyway, as a noblewoman, there are only so many places I can go. Once I clear my head… I’ll live as you wish.”

Jeanne’s softened gaze seemed to catch Carlisle off guard, his expression briefly surprised.

However, it didn’t last long; his voice, colder than ever, echoed through the bathroom.

“Kiss me right now.”

Jeanne froze for a moment but then rose from the bathtub without hesitation, leaning in to meet Carlisle’s lips.

Carlisle grabbed the back of Jeanne’s neck, pulling him closer.

Even as Carlisle’s tongue invaded the space between Jeanne’s parted lips, Jeanne didn’t show any particular discomfort.

Watching Jeanne’s reactions closely, Carlisle finally pulled away, their lips parting with a lewd sound as a thin string of saliva stretched between them.

“Where are you going to get fresh air?”

“Obviously, to indulge in some luxury. I need to relieve the stress of putting up with you somehow.”

“Luxury, huh.”

“Why? Did that sound too worldly and make you lose interest? If you don’t like it, then…”

Carlisle didn’t let Jeanne finish.

Pulling him into another kiss, he wrapped his arms around Jeanne’s waist.

When Carlisle’s hands gripped his hips tightly, Jeanne startled and tried to push him away, but Carlisle didn’t budge.

Only after Carlisle thoroughly ravaged his mouth did Jeanne finally catch his breath, glaring at Carlisle as if he were crazy.

Yet Carlisle, unperturbed, spoke with a faint laugh in his voice.

“Perhaps the national treasury will run dry soon.”

✽ ✽ ✽

Months had passed since the poisoning incident, and Carlisle continued to visit the villa where I stayed.

Though I hadn’t expected him to release me immediately, I also hadn’t imagined he would barely let me leave at all.

It made me wonder if this bastard was trying to drive me insane on purpose.

“I need to visit the northern region.”

His voice, heavy with fatigue, reached my ears.

After spending the night discussing refugee policies with me, he eventually fell asleep using my lap as a pillow around midnight—a stark contrast to the testimony of his steward, who claimed Carlisle never slept easily in front of others.

Whenever Carlisle visited, he slept so deeply I could have carried him away unnoticed.

He even stole my meals and snacks.

At first, I thought he might just be hungry, but after months of him persistently taking my food as a joke, I found myself developing a survival instinct, hurriedly eating before he could take anything.

When I questioned his bizarre behavior, he smiled faintly and explained,

“A friend of mine had a dog that refused to eat, so the owner pretended to steal its food, and it worked. I thought it might work for you too.”

“That’s insane.”

I assumed this nonsense would stop after a few days, but Carlisle kept it up for two months.

Eventually, I was so conditioned by this routine that I began shoveling food into my mouth, wary of losing it.

Watching me eat with apparent satisfaction, Carlisle seemed every bit Jerome’s close friend.

Strangely enough, this unintended change improved my health.

I gained weight, my complexion brightened, and Carlisle seemed reassured by this transformation.

Whereas before, his desperation to win my attention was palpable, now he seemed more at ease, as if confident I had finally accepted Jerome’s death and returned to my routine.

Truthfully, life here wasn’t so bad.

If I wanted a book, Carlisle would fetch it for me—even rare, banned texts.

If I craved something, a royal chef would prepare a feast that outshone the meals at the ducal estate.

It felt less like imprisonment and more like a luxurious retreat.

Watching Carlisle rub his face against my knee, I frowned and asked,

“When will you be back?”

“Probably not until next week.”

“…”

“What? Do you miss me already?”

What puzzled me most was that, despite holding me captive here, Carlisle never forced anything upon me.

Even when I lashed out during moments of mental exhaustion, he waited patiently for me to calm down or endured a few hits without complaint.

He didn’t even attempt anything physical beyond that kiss in the bathroom.

At night, he would simply hold me close and fall asleep.

It felt as though he was waiting for my permission.

Pushing away Carlisle’s hand as it reached to caress my face, I asked bluntly,
“What am I supposed to do here alone without you?”

“You’re the one who refused to return to the palace.”

“Obviously. I’d rather not be poisoned just because I’m favored by you.”

“That won’t happen. I’ve taken care of it.”

Something in his tone sent a chill down my spine.

Sensing my unease, Carlisle sighed.

Perhaps even he felt guilty about leaving me here alone.

After a moment of deliberation, Carlisle stood and said,

“I’ll make arrangements. Go visit the marketplace.”

“What?”

“You said you wanted to go out. Buy whatever you like. You enjoy indulging yourself, don’t you?”

The sudden permission to leave after months of confinement left me stunned.

I felt every hair on my body stand on end.

Carlisle, observing my reaction, leaned down and planted a brief kiss on my forehead.

“Don’t do anything reckless.”

“…”

“Answer me.”

Having been through so much, I instinctively knew: this was the most dangerous moment.

Carlisle might appear to trust me completely now, but even a small misstep could destroy that trust.

Looking up at him, I cautiously wrapped my arms around his neck and whispered in a playful tone,

“I want Lacmolies. Make sure to bring them back for me.”

After Carlisle left the room, I sat alone, pondering my next move.

“Carlisle said he’d be gone for a week. Escaping the empire alone in that time is impossible. Knowing him, he’s probably stationed guards everywhere.”

Escaping without allies seemed hopeless.

Pacing the room and chewing my nails, I suddenly recalled something Jerome had once told me.

“I’ll make it simple. After leaving the east, head to the boutique in the marketplace. Don’t return to the duchy.”

It dawned on me that Jerome might have foreseen this exact situation.

Clever as he was, it seemed plausible.

Muttering to myself, I voiced the faint hope forming in my mind.

“Maybe… just maybe, it’s possible.”

To escape from Carlisle.

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