DFN | Chapter 1.1

The Nightrow barony was a rather small, unremarkable, and quiet domain nestled at the foot of a small mountain range. Ethan, who had been born and raised here, had spent years longing to escape this suffocating territory.

He was reasonably good-looking, and through a matchmaker he had been introduced to a young woman from a bakery in the capital city. Now he was brimming with dreams of leaving Nightrow to marry her.

“Ethan! I heard you’re getting married next month!”

Over the wooden fence where Ethan was splitting firewood, his neighbor Lloyd, an older friend he had been close with since childhood, suddenly poked his face in.

“Well, that’s how it turned out.”

Ethan answered briefly and set down the axe he had been using to split the wood. Beneath Ethan’s black hair, damp with sweat, his lightly tanned skin had a pleasant look to it.

Broad shoulders and arms, thick thighs. The young man, whose body had naturally developed the firm, lean muscles characteristic of a woodcutter, deliberately tilted up the corners of his eyes, which usually drooped gently, and looked at Lloyd.

“So you always said you wanted to go to the big city and find work, and now you’re finally leaving Nightrow?”

“You used to want to leave this place too, brother.”

“My thinking changed after I got married. There’s no place better to live than Nightrow.”

Lloyd grinned and ruffled Ethan’s hair. Ethan didn’t like that one bit, and he swatted the hand away, saying sharply,

“You had a rare chance to marry a woman from the capital and get out of this godforsaken countryside, and instead you settled down and are raising two kids. You’re the strange one.”

“I’m even thinking about a third. You’ll change your mind once you get married too.”

“I’m getting out. I have no intention of splitting firewood for the rest of my life here.”

At Ethan’s cold words, Lloyd awkwardly withdrew his hand. Since they were children, they had promised to leave this countryside together, and the sense of betrayal Ethan had felt when Lloyd, after getting married, suddenly declared he wanted to live a stable life and started farming here again!

Farming, raising livestock, or chopping wood. Those were the only things men had to do in Nightrow. But if you were born a man, shouldn’t you have bigger ambitions than that? Better opportunities. Bigger dreams. A bigger future, or something like that.

“How did you find out about my wedding?”

“I went to deliver the crop tribute and sir Mikhail asked me to pass along a message. He said if the engagement has been decided, you should stop by the House of Nightrow within the week. About the right of first night!”

At the words “right of first night,” Ethan’s face scrunched up. The right of first night was a law that had been forcibly created long ago by greedy and immoral nobles to violate the village maidens. An absolutely wretched and shitty law demanding that maidens who were about to be married offer up their wedding night.

But that was ancient history. Now that imperial authority had stabilized and nobles could no longer exploit the common people as they pleased, the right of first night had been abolished in most territories. There were still a few backwater places like the Nightrow where Ethan lived that hadn’t fully erased the old traces, but here the meaning was different.

In Nightrow, the right of first night meant conducting hygiene education for men who were about to get married. Among the domain’s residents whose marriages had been decided, only the groom was summoned to the House of Nightrow to receive proper sex education. According to those who had been through it, they were taught things like how to use contraception, how to clean up properly after intercourse, and how to respect a lady.

Nightrow’s right of first night, which had started from the idea of “let’s not just spit on our hands, then shove it in after barely wetting the woman with dirty hands that had been working the fields until just a moment ago,” had a good reputation among the wives.

Apparently the Baron of Nightrow, who conducted such education, was a true gentleman who cared about ladies, or something along those lines.

“Do I really have to receive sex education? Women lose their minds as long as you just give it to them.”

Ethan crossed his arms with a displeased look. He truly hated everything about Nightrow. He also hated the baron, who supposedly put on a hypocritical show with all this talk of sex education and whatnot.

“And how many kids have starved to death these past few years, while the baron doesn’t even care. Nightrow is dying, and he’s talking about the right of first night…”

It certainly hadn’t been such a bad countryside to live in when he was young, but the Nightrow of today had few people, little fertile land, and few livestock. Most of the people there were just barely scraping by, doing things like woodcutting, just like Ethan.

“Still, things have gotten a little better this year, haven’t they, Ethan. The baron really does teach ‘good things,’ so go and listen well.”

“What would a man who’s never done a day of work in his life have to teach. I’d know better than him when it comes to satisfying a woman.”

Ethan gave a small snort.

Ethan picked up the axe again. And he began splitting firewood roughly, as if lamenting his own lot in life.

“I heard that in other small towns, all the people have drained away to the capital and they’re completely empty, but somehow Nightrow just won’t go under.”

𖧷 • 𖧷 • 𖧷

The House of Nightrow was surrounded by a black iron fence. The inside was so densely overgrown with shrubs that you couldn’t see in well, but if you stood on your tiptoes, you could just barely make out the shape of a large mansion built from cream-colored bricks.

Beside the main gate fence there was a small guardhouse, and ordinarily the domain’s residents would come here to pay their taxes or deliver their crop tributes. When Ethan went inside and stated his business, Mikhail, the knight who assisted with the affairs of the House of Nightrow, looked Ethan up and down.

“Your name?”

“Ethan. You know who I am, sir.”

“Your age?”

“Old enough. Look, I have a lot to sort out before I leave for the capital. Please wrap up this hygiene class, or whatever it is, quickly.”

It would have been reasonable to take offense at a commoner’s backtalk, but the handsome knight with long silver hair neatly tied back had apparently dealt with enough rude country youths that he paid it no mind. Instead, he pressed two fingers, his index and middle, firmly against Ethan’s chest and asked,

“Are you a virgin?”

“Pardon?”

“I asked whether you are a virgin suitable for the first night.”

Not only was it strange to ask a bachelor whether he was a virgin, but Mikhail pressed around on Ethan’s dirty ivory-colored tunic as if gauging something. At the firm touch pressing hard against his nipple through the collar of his shirt, Ethan was startled and shook off his hand, answering hastily,

“Ugh… what are you touching! Anyway, I’ve come to fulfill the obligation of the right of first night.”

“Your chest is large. Good sensitivity too. However, you’ll need a bit more etiquette training.”

Mikhail’s blue eyes flashed sharply. Ethan faltered for a moment, cowed by his overbearing manner.

“My, my chest?”

“It’s been nothing but chickens and pigs lately. This works out nicely.”

Muttering something incomprehensible to himself, Mikhail took out a stamp, pressed it onto a document, and held it out to Ethan.

“Go in.”

Good grief. For a knight of a barony that was barely the size of a booger. Ethan took the document, but since he couldn’t read, he had no idea what it said. He stared curiously at the cow’s head stamp pressed at the very bottom, then followed the maid who had come out to guide him and stepped inside.

“Ugh. What is that smell.”

As Ethan crossed the fence into the shrub-lined grounds of Nightrow, a very sweet fragrance he had never smelled before in his life hit his nose. It was a sweetness even stronger than the smell of boiling sugar.

He sniffed and looked up, and saw clusters of red flowers blooming all across the garden. The tiny flower clusters, each smaller than a finger joint, were blooming so densely that it looked as if a long red carpet had been laid out across the ground. But the fragrance was so overpowering that his head throbbed as if it might split.

“Nobles breathe in this kind of smell every day and manage just fine.”

Rubbing his temples, he followed the maid inside, and the spacious interior came into view. The interior, decorated with antique wooden furniture that preserved old traditions and velvet ornaments, leaned more toward a heavy and solemn atmosphere than an opulent one.

There were many windows and it was tidy, but with not a single person coming or going, it wasn’t a particularly bright atmosphere. When he stepped into the main hall, which gave him a strange feeling like being in a church, the intense sweetness wafted over again, strong enough to make his head swim.

The interior of the mansion was decorated here and there with the same red flowers he had seen in the garden a moment ago. The powerful scent made Ethan’s legs feel as if they might give out, and he squeezed his eyes shut. Then, from behind him, a low, gentle, and elegant voice spoke.

“Good afternoon.”

He was startled and opened his eyes wide. In front of him was a coffee table with a cup of deep red tea on it. Wait? Hadn’t he just been walking through the main hall following the maid? Realizing that he was now seated in the reception room of the baron’s manor, Ethan hurriedly turned around.

A man with beautiful hair the color of pearl-tinged gold was entering the reception room. His skin was white and clear, as if sunlight had never touched it, but he was a man with a tall and sturdy build that could rival Ethan’s, or perhaps even surpass it.

His hair shone without a single strand out of place, and the teal eyes visible beneath his delicately lowered lashes seemed to glitter like jewels.

Perhaps it was because that light was sharp rather than warm. His handsome face, carved in clean lines, and his faint smile gave him an appearance that carried a dangerous allure, somehow reminiscent of a venomous snake.

“I am Baron Bellian Nightrow. The one in charge of this domain where you live.”

“Ahem. I, I am, E, Ethan.”

When Bellian narrowed his eyes and smiled, Ethan found himself stammering, overcome by a strange feeling he couldn’t quite place. The baron he was meeting for the first time was kinder than he had expected.

“Don’t be so tense. Have a cup of tea.”

The soft and gentle manner of speaking, and the underlying nobility and courtesy, showed that Bellian was a born aristocrat. As if in a trance, Ethan lifted the teacup and took the red liquid inside into his mouth.