The square had gone deathly quiet, the kind of silence that pressed in from all sides, thick and suffocating. Women stood frozen in their clusters, baskets dangling forgotten from elbows, eyes wide.
It was almost dark, as only a small amount of light was coming from the setting sun. The air smelled of spilled water and fear, sharp, metallic, clinging to everyone's breath. No one moved. No one dared. The only sound was the faint creak of a distant cart wheel and the rapid, shallow breaths of the crowd.
Selene's wrist still burned where Lys had gripped it, the skin tingling from the pressure. She rubbed it absentmindedly, her fancy dress, now feeling too tight on her body, too exposed. Her chest rose and fell in quick, angry bursts, but her eyes...
Her eyes locked on his, wide with a mix of fury and something rawer, something that made her stomach twist. His last words had hit her like a slap, but now it lingered, turning her face a deep, furious red.
Anger? Embarrassment? Humiliation from a nobody like him? She couldn't tell, and that only fueled the heat crawling up her neck.
"What... what do you want?" she asked again, her voice cracking just a little at the edges, the words spilling out in a rush. She tried to sound commanding, like the priest's daughter she was, but it came out thin, almost pleading. The crowd leaned in closer, ears straining, a few women exchanging wide-eyed glances.
Selene asked again, "Speak up, you... you bastard. What did you want again?"
Lys's smile didn't waver. It stayed there, calm and unyielding, the kind that didn't reach his eyes but made them sharper. "I know you heard me loud and clear, Selene," he said, his voice low but carrying, dropping the "Miss" like it was nothing. No title. No deference. Just her name, plain and sharp.
The crowd gasped as one, a ripple of shock passing through them like a wave. Whispers exploded, "Huh, did you hear that? He didn't call her Miss?" "Bold as brass, that one." "He's done for now." Many mixed comments were spilling out, but Lys didn't flinch. He stood there, tall and steady, the sun's last light glinting off behind his shoulders, making him look larger than life against the sea of women.
Selene's face burned brighter, the red spreading down to her collarbone. Her hands clenched at her sides, nails digging into her palms. No one had ever spoken to her like that, not in public, not like this.
Helga stepped forward again, her stout frame trembling with rage, apron strings swinging as she jabbed a finger at Lys. "Hey, you stupid fuck! Do you have any idea what you just spouted with that filthy mouth of yours? Fucking beggar, not even worth washing my lady Selene's shoes, and you're asking for what? Her dress? You're out of your mind or what?"
The words hung in the air, crude and biting, but the crowd didn't laugh. They shifted, their uncomfortable eyes darting between Helga's flushed face and Lys's calm one. A young woman near the front clutched her basket tighter, whispering to her friend, "He's not backing down... this is going to end badly."
But no one intervened. The fear of the priest's reach kept them rooted, even as the injustice simmered in front of them.
Lys's smile turned wicked, slow and deliberate, the corners of his lips curling like a predator's. He tilted his head, eyes flicking to Mitsu for a moment, her trembling form, the way she clutched his shirt like a lifeline, before locking back on Selene. "Oh, I'm perfectly in my right mind," he said, his voice rough now, the polite tone stripped away like old paint.
"But it seems you lot aren't. Or anybody here is, I presume. Given how All of you let this helpless girl get harassed like this in a crowded market."
He pointed to Mitsu while staring at the crowd, his finger steady, the gesture drawing every eye to her ruined dress, the scratches weeping red on her skin. "I don't see anybody coming to rescue her, even when seeing this mad woman spouting bullshit like it was divine words."
His voice dropped lower, cutting. "So if they're not out of their minds, who else, me? And you…" He jabbed a finger at Selene now, his gaze predatory, stripping away her defenses, "I knew you were loose on your mind from the moment I met you, but who would've have known you were this twisted, sick in mind?!"
Selene just stared, her lips parted, breath shallow. The crowd's murmurs grew, a low buzz of agreement, "He's right," "Look at the poor girl's clothes," "About time someone said it." Women nodded subtly, their eyes hardening, the fear cracking under the weight of the truth.
Lys's gaze didn't soften. It turned sharper, darker, his voice dropping to a growl that carried over the square. No more polite voice. "I know you heard me loud and clear. I paid for that dress you're wearing, now. And I want it back, give it back to me. Now."
The command-like word landed like a thunderclap. Selene's eyes widened, her body going rigid, the fancy fabric of her dress suddenly feeling like a cage for her. She glanced around the crowd, desperate for a familiar face, an ally, or someone to step in. But no one was there, no one who would come to rescue her.
The women who had whispered earlier now stood silent, their faces set in quiet judgment. A few even muttered, "Yeah, do it. That's what real justice looks like." The servant, Helga, stepped forward, her face pale but defiant, blocking Lys's path. "Don't come closer," she snapped, her voice wavering. "You stay back!"
Lys took another step, his boots crunching on the dirt, closing the distance until he was inches from Helga. He could feel the heat of her body, the way her ample chest rose and fell in quick, panicked breaths, her apron straining against the curve of her breasts. She didn't back off; backing off meant her lady had to strip, but her eyes darted, fear flickering in them. Lys's presence loomed, his frame solid and unyielding, the air between them thick with tension.
"Then don't make me," he said, his voice low and rough, eyes boring into Selene over Helga's shoulder. "Do it while I'm still polite. You don't want to see me when I'm angry, Believe Me."
The words hung heavy, the crowd holding its breath. Helga's hand shot to her bodice, fumbling for the coin she thought she'd pocketed earlier. But when she didn't find it, she realized it had dropped earlier. She crouched down and looked around. It took her only seconds before she found it in the dirt.
She held it before Lys, the gold flashing as she threw it at his feet. "Here! Take it! We don't need it. Take it and leave my lady alone!"
Lys didn't even glance down. He stepped forward, his boot coming down on the coin with a deliberate crunch, grinding it into the dirt. The gold disappeared under his heel, forgotten.
The crowd gasped again, "He stepped on it?", their eyes widening. They knew instantly from this behavior of his that what he wanted wasn't the coin itself.
It was the dress. The humiliation. Stripping away her status in broad daylight. The justice for that poor girl.
Lys was close now, so close he could smell the faint perfume on Selene's skin, and almost see the rapid pulse at her throat. Helga stood between them, her body pressed almost against his, her big breasts heaving with each breath, the fabric of her apron brushing his chest. She didn't move, her loyalty a wall, but her eyes pleaded with him, for not getting closer than he already is. "Please... don't."
But shocking her, shocking almost everyone present, Selene spoke up, her voice small, treabling but it was there. "Okay...Stop where you are, I'm doing it. Just don't…come any closer."
Hearing this, Lys stepped back a fraction, giving Helga some breathing room, but his eyes never left Selene.
The servant turned to her lady, face twisted in disbelief. "What are you saying, my lady? Why are you giving in to this scum? He's just intimidating us! No need to do it for real. Let's just go to your father and show this beggar who he's talking to!"
Selene's voice came out rough, edged with defeat. "Stop it, Helga. No point in doing it now. Don't you see around us? I don't see anybody who's going to help me if he really starts to undress me now. So...better do it myself. Don't make it any worse."
Lys's smile returned, faint but satisfied to see his intimidation worked. "A wise choice, my lady." He gave her a small, mocking courtesy, a bow of his head that made her glare at him, her cheeks burning brighter.
The crowd watched in stunned silence as Selene's hands moved to the laces of her dress, fingers trembling. The square held its breath, the tension coiling tighter, the weight of a hundred eyes pressing down on her.
And Lys just stood there, unmoving, his presence a silent command to her. The dress began to loosen, the fabric shifting, the first hints of skin peeking through...
Author note: If you liked the story so far, then please leave a rating and review. It keeps me motivated to write the story with more enthusiasm.