The Beautiful Pariah is Being Pestered Again [Quick Transmigration] - Chapter 2

The Duke closed the door, his face a mask devoid of emotion.

He recalled the first time he had laid eyes on his “wife.” It had been a sweltering day. The youth was sitting by the pond, idly splashing his feet in the water, kicking away duckweed and fallen leaves to reach a distant water lily. When his reach fell short, he had burst into laughter as if he’d just told himself the funniest joke in the world.

He was like a beam of light that briefly illuminated the Duke’s gray, dismal existence.

Initially, the Duke was content to admire him from afar. But upon returning to his castle and living in the shadows once more, he realized his life had become unbearable. He didn’t endure the longing for long. In less than a month, the youth became his bride.

However, from that day on, the beam of light ceased to shine. It was soaked, contaminated, and drained until it lost its original luster, becoming as dim and cold as the Duke himself.

Perhaps as a form of retaliation, his wife had cheated.

The Duke turned around to face the person on the bed. He unfastened his cuffs, walking toward the bed with unhurried steps.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

With every step he took, the overhead lights flickered out, section by section.

Song Mo’s mind went blank. He watched the man approach with a dazed expression, suddenly struck by a bizarre sensation. It felt as if this room and perhaps the entire castle was a living entity. It was cold, fishy, and uncomfortably sticky.

He was clearly sitting on a soft bed, yet under the Duke’s snake-like gaze, his skin crawled. He felt as if the mattress beneath him had transformed into a wet tongue, licking and tasting him.

Click.

The Duke placed his metal cuff links on the nightstand, followed by his brooch and pocket watch. His movements were methodical, yet to Song Mo, they felt laden with threat. As the man removed his final accessory, Song Mo flinched reflexively and instinctively activated Thorn Rose.

Rose petals drifted down, and a second “mosquito bite” mark appeared on the Duke’s cheek. The Duke’s brow twitched almost imperceptibly as his cold gaze landed on Song Mo.

As if in response to this futile attack, he pulled open a small cabinet by the bed. The cabinet was small but intricately designed, with several long, strap-like objects hanging inside. Song Mo didn’t recognize most of them, but he immediately spotted a leather belt.

It was an instrument of punishment. He felt a wave of despair.

Song Mo was terrified of pain. He tried to negotiate piteously, “Can you… not hit me?”

The Duke paused. His fingers had already hooked around a set of bindings, but upon hearing those words, he shifted his grip to the belt instead.

It was a thin belt, about two fingers wide, emitting a faint, ambiguous scent of musk. The Duke folded the belt, hiding the metal buckle in his palm. Song Mo had barely let out a sigh of relief when he noticed the belt was studded with rubies. It was beautiful, but it looked like it would hurt immensely.

“Give me your hand,” the Duke said flatly.

Terrified, Song Mo hid his hands behind his back, shaking his head frantically. Due to his fear, a light sweat broke out on the tip of his nose. His green eyes were misty, making him look like a young animal that had lost its way in a torrential downpour.

Unfortunately, the man standing before him was no kind-hearted rescuer. The Duke was the one who had summoned the storm.

Met with refusal, the Duke remained expressionless and repeated, “Hand.”

“N-no…” Song Mo whimpered, lowering his head and shaking it with all his might.

The Duke actually laughed, though the smile never reached past the corners of his lips. “No?”

“My newlywed bride, you were so impatient to find lovers that you acted as if you’d die of thirst if you waited another moment. I assumed you were prepared for the consequences of such boldness.”

“Surely you aren’t so foolish as to only now realize that every action carries a price?”

The hollow smile vanished as quickly as a ripple on water.

“If one makes a mistake, one must be punished.” Coldness returned to the Duke’s face. He looked down from his height, delivering a command that brooked no resistance: “Hand.”

This time, Song Mo winced and instinctively obeyed.

They were a pair of slender, porcelain-white hands that had clearly never done a day of hard labor. His knuckles were delicate, and his fingertips trembled from the strain as he held his palms up in a posture of complete submission.

It wasn’t hard to imagine how those hands would look when caressing, scratching, or gripping something.

The fire of jealousy burned deeper in the Duke’s eyes. He raised the belt and—Snap!—swung it down.

The strike immediately left a red welt across Song Mo’s palm. Song Mo let out a sharp cry of pain, and tears instantly spilled over.

Song Mo was deathly afraid of pain. In his previous life, his days were filled with injections and bone marrow biopsies. He had been hurt so often that even minor pain triggered all his negative emotions. To make matters worse, the Duke was punishing him for things he hadn’t even done.

He was terrified and felt deeply wronged. His tears flowed faster, soon drenching his entire face.

The Duke let out a sneer. “Delicate.”

Song Mo bit his lip. He had already accepted the punishment, yet the Duke still mocked him. A spark of anger flickered within him. He glared back with tear-reddened eyes and said, “You said people should be punished for making mistakes. What about you?”

Meeting the Duke’s dangerous gaze, Song Mo shrank back slightly, but his palm was burning. The more he thought about it, the more aggrieved he felt, and his voice rose.

“I didn’t want to marry you at all, but you kidnapped me. Isn’t that a mistake?”

Song Mo felt he was in the right and grew bolder, but a second later, he met the Duke’s icy stare. His inflated courage was like a fragile balloon; punctured by that look, it immediately deflated, and his voice trailed off.

“I should punish you too…”

The Duke stared at him for a long time before suddenly nodding. “You are right.”

He flipped the belt around and held it out to Song Mo. “You may punish me.”

Song Mo hadn’t expected him to be so agreeable and was stunned. It took several seconds before he reached out to take the belt. He had no experience hitting people and wasn’t used to holding such an object. His fingers fumbled clumsily as he tried to find the right way to grip it.

While he was struggling, he looked up and met the Duke’s unblinking eyes. His face instantly flushed crimson.

“Do you need me to teach you?” the Duke asked calmly.

“Of course not!” Song Mo snapped. He raised his hand and swung the belt.

The strike wasn’t heavy at all. To the Duke, it felt more like a gentle caress.

The Duke raised an eyebrow, looking at Song Mo in surprise. Suddenly, he reached out and forcefully grabbed Song Mo’s wrist. His grip was incredibly strong; he twisted Song Mo’s hand, aimed the rivets on the edge of the belt at his own palm, and then exerted a sudden, violent force.

Warm blood splattered out. Song Mo instinctively jerked back to keep his face clean, but he was completely stunned.

The Duke released him without changing his expression. “That is a punishment. Do you understand?”

Song Mo stared at the bloody mess of a hand, his mouth hanging open in shock. As soon as the Duke let go, the belt clattered to the floor. Song Mo was shaking all over, his breathing turning into panicked gasps, his muscles tensed as if he might bolt at any second.

But the Duke immediately grabbed his ankle, asking with a hint of confusion, “You can’t handle even this? We’ve only just begun.”

He picked up the blood-stained belt, shoved it back into Song Mo’s hand, and urged, “Continue.”

Song Mo was trembling so violently he couldn’t even grip it. The Duke squeezed his hand, pressing his fingers back around the belt one by one. If one ignored the Duke’s own bleeding palm, the scene would have looked almost heartwarming—like an elder giving earnest instructions to a child.

Song Mo’s face turned deathly pale. His lips quivered as he stammered, “No more… stop it…”

“Had enough?”

The Duke saw the shimmering tears in Song Mo’s eyes and the unmistakable plea for mercy. The Duke smiled. “Then let us return to the discussion regarding your infidelity.”

Song Mo: “…”

Almost in despair, he closed his eyes.

Suddenly, a bloody gash appeared on the Duke’s neck. Rose petals drifted down, making Song Mo’s tear-streaked face look even paler. With nowhere to run or hide, Song Mo was like a cowardly little animal driven into a corner, forced to bristle with useless thorns in a futile resistance.

He used his only skill over and over again, hoping to scare off his natural predator.

The Duke completely ignored the bloody marks on his body, watching the youth calmly until Song Mo collapsed from exhaustion. As the Duke approached once more, Song Mo closed his eyes, certain he was dead.

The cold, powerful hand gripped his ankle, but it suddenly stopped in the next instant.

Under Song Mo’s confused gaze, the Duke frowned and looked down at himself. He felt pain. The pain originated from his neck sharp and suffocating, as if an invisible, thorny chain were choking him.

The Duke was forced to stop, his breathing becoming ragged. However, the moment he backed away, the pain vanished.

The Duke realized something and looked at Song Mo in disbelief. This time, he moved in for a kiss.

Sure enough, a sharp, stabbing pain trapped his breath. Rage flared in his heart, and the Duke bit down hard on the youth’s lips until Song Mo let out a muffled groan.

But it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough.

His fury was like a tidal wave, completely swallowing him. He wanted to chew on Song Mo’s flesh, devour his soul, and possess him so thoroughly that there was no space left between them to eventually burn him into a cinder so that no one else could ever lay a finger on him.

But he couldn’t take another step.

The agony at his throat grew more intense. The Duke’s face turned a deep red, and terrifying snake-like scales erupted across his entire body.

“ARGH!!!”

The excruciating pain spread from his neck to his entire body. The Duke couldn’t even touch Song Mo’s skin without being forced back in agony.

In the vanity mirror by the bed, he could clearly see a ring of thorny runes glowing around his neck.

Thorn Rose. So this was its true form.

The Duke’s vertical, snake-like pupils turned icy. He glared at Song Mo with a sinister, venomous look, as if he might lunge forward and tear him to shreds at any moment. But even that gaze brought pain. Unable to maintain his human form any longer, he cast one last lingering, resentful look at Song Mo before fleeing the room just as his snake tail began to manifest.

Before leaving, the Duke raised his hand, and a streak of black energy shot into Song Mo’s body, forming a row of dark, tattoo-like marks that clung to the youth’s collarbone.

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