Betrothed to My Sister's Ex

Two posts in one day, here’s the first.

On the rattling cart during a four-day journey—I was passing time by sewing. I had brought out one nearly finished outfit along with my tools.

It was also very useful as a cold-weather garment. The blanket was monopolized by the coachman, who insisted I join him under it. So, I draped that piece of clothing over my shoulders like a cloak, also using it to cover my skin.

Rattle, rattle… the cart really shook a lot. Repeatedly falling into shallow sleep, I dreamt every day.

Dreaming of setting up a workshop in the oily Artisan District, amidst those rough men.

—I want to become a clothing craftsman. To do meaningful work, laugh and get angry with friends I can trust, and live like a human being.

I don’t want to get married.

I had thought I had long since given up such a luxury dream.

—But I hadn’t prepared myself for suffering what I did.

“Stop!”

A man was straddling me on my stomach. His weight alone restrained me as he struggled with the buttons on my dress.

“Damn it. Young lady’s clothes sure are a pain to take off.”

I resisted with all my might but didn’t budge. I only flailed my arms and legs helplessly.

Crash! —It seems my foot kicked a bag. The travel luggage scattered on the floor.

“Ah, shut up and stay still!”

“Gya!”

He slapped my cheek. My fragile neck couldn’t withstand the impact, and I felt dizzy. With my tongue failing me, I tried to resist verbally.

“Y-you know what will happen to you? I am the fiancée of Count Granado. My body already belongs to him. If the Count finds out about this, y-you’re finished…!”

I thought it was a perfect threat. But the man only grinned.

“Who knows? Maybe the one finished won’t be me but you, young lady. As head of a great noble family, the Count has plenty of other fiancée candidates. Would he marry off a baron’s daughter defiled by a foreigner?”

“W-what did you say?”

“If things go badly, you might be kicked out for adultery and the baronial family might have to pay damages. Then—haha, I wonder if that stingy Father of yours would even let you back in.”

No… no way… Father… and the Count too, surely not…

The man laughed at my stiffened body.

“It’s best for both of us to keep this a secret. Because other than ‘a pretty body that’s worth money,’ you have no worth at all.”

My vision went completely dark. It wasn’t because of anger at the awful insult.

…It was because, even for a moment, I found myself agreeing with his words.

Seeing me lose strength, the man cheerfully undressed me. Having stripped off my underwear, he began undressing himself. I turned my face away to avoid seeing the ugly sight.

—Through my blurred vision, something glinted. In the darkness, reflected by a ray of moonlight, a silver sparkle shone.

Was it something I had kicked and scattered from the bag earlier? What was that? It was beautiful…

Lying on my back, I reached out. My fingers touched something hard. Suddenly, I understood. It was my beloved sewing tool I had used for years—a large dressmaker’s shears.

—I didn’t hesitate. I gripped it tightly and slashed at the man’s fingers touching my skin.

“Gyaa!” The man’s scream was satisfying. Holding his wounded finger and screaming, I kicked his crotch and sprang up. I kicked him again with all my might and shouted loudly.

“Does it hurt? Serves you right, you bastard!!”

The man groaned, reaching his hand toward me. No time to bother with the dress, I grabbed a piece of cloth nearby—a handmade man’s outfit—and fled the cart.

It was the riverbank of a canal. Pitch dark, and a huge volume of water was rushing nearby. Barefoot on stones, I ran.

But I was caught surprisingly soon. Someone grabbed my hair from behind and threw me to the ground.

“You’re not getting away…!”

He was desperate too. If I escaped unfinished, his life would be over. It was no longer desire but self-preservation; he pinned me down.

Half my face was buried in gravel, but it was okay; the shears were still in my hand. I slashed his fingers again. He screamed but didn’t release my hair.