I’ve Become a S*ave Bride - Chapter 10

“Your impatience is your own problem.”

The man’s left eyebrow twitched. Raising just one brow, he took a step closer.

“Say that again.”

He had a temper, clearly.

But so what? He wasn’t the only one with a temper—Lenette had quite the personality herself.

“Well, I don’t really enjoy repeating myself to someone who responds to kindness with threats instead of a simple thank you.”

A blatant jab.

But perhaps because he saw some truth in her words, the man took a step back and crossed his arms with a crooked stance.

“You speak the Imperial tongue well.”

“So do you.”

At her retort, the man paused for a moment, then let out a faint chuckle and lowered his head. Running a hand down his face, he muttered to himself,

“Not just a little, but quite.”

The meaning was unclear, but that didn’t matter right now. This time, Lenette stepped toward him and asked,

“You said you were curious about the ointment, right? Well, I’m curious about something too.”

“So, a trade?”

What a dramatic way to put it for something so small. Still, she played along, nodding in agreement.

“How about it? One question each, back and forth.”

He stared at her for a moment.

“Fine. But let’s change the rules a bit.”

“Let’s hear it.”

Her bold expression made him let out a scoff. But then, his face grew serious as he laid out his condition.

“Each of us can ask three questions. But the questions have to be binary—something that can only be answered with ‘yes’ or ‘no.’”

Lenette’s eyes widened slightly as she listened.

‘Smarter than I thought.’

The way he set the terms and his use of the word “binary”… This wasn’t the vocabulary of an uneducated slave. Her assumptions about him were clearly off.

‘Then what is he, really?’

Staring up at him, a new idea sparked in her mind, and a sly smile crept across her lips.

“Since we’re already tweaking the rules, how about we make it a little more fun?”

“Let’s hear it.”

“Let’s not limit the questions to just binary ones. But—”

At the note of mischief in her voice, he tilted his head slightly.

“But?”

“You have to answer with two truths and one lie.”

Did he understand her intention? The man chuckled, running a hand through his hair.

As he swept away the strands that had been half-obscuring his eyes, his full features came into view.

A straight forehead, moderately thick and dark eyebrows, and striking, somewhat aloof, three-white eyes. He was handsome.

‘Even his skin looks good.’

No visible sun damage, no wrinkles. That said a lot.

“What do you think?” she asked.

“Sounds fun.”

“I wasn’t asking for your opinion. I was asking if you’re in or not.”

He leaned against a pillar, tilting his chin with a lazy confidence.

“You start.”

Something about how he made it seem like she needed ’his’ permission rubbed her the wrong way—but curiosity won. So she asked her first question.

“Who are you?”

“The black panther’s handler.”

The answer came so quickly and unexpectedly that it completely blindsided Lenette. She blinked and repeated it.

“Black panther handler?”

“Is that your second question?”

“…No.”

Now it was the man’s turn. He straightened up slightly and asked,

“Where did you get this ointment?”

For a split second, Lenette hesitated. Should she lie or tell the truth?

But the decision didn’t take long.

“I made it.”

After all, it’d be pointless to say someone else gave it to her. In her current situation—sold into the palace as a slave with no connections—that kind of lie would fall apart fast.

“My turn now.”

He raised an eyebrow, signaling for her question. It was a rather unenthusiastic gesture.

“Are you really a black panther handler?”

His expression changed instantly at the unexpected question. A sound like air escaping his lungs accompanied his laughter as he doubled over.

“I thought you’d ask something new.”

Apparently, he found her move clever—using her next question to immediately test the truth of his last answer. He slowly shook his head and ran a hand over his face.

“Not just clever—very clever.”

“I don’t know what you keep muttering to yourself, but anyway, your answer?”

Unbothered by his reactions, she pressed for a reply.

“No.”

She knew it.

He might be a handler, but a ‘Black Panther’ handler? What kind of absurd title was that supposed to be?

And that arrogance—from someone who claimed to be just a handler?

‘Figures.’

Now only one question remained.

Since he had lied on his first answer—saying he was a “black panther handler”—he had no choice but to tell the truth for his final response.

Realizing that, Lenette curled her lips into a faint smirk and said,

“It’s your turn. Ask your question.”

At some point, he had straightened up, now facing her squarely with a serious expression.

“Have you studied medicine?”

“Yes.”

Again, no hesitation—she gave the truth.

After all, she’d already admitted the ointment was her creation. There was no use pretending ignorance now.

“My turn, then—”

“No.”

He cut her off abruptly and stepped in close. Startled, she took a step back—only to hit the wall.

Just like that, Lenette found herself trapped between the wall and his imposing frame.

“I’ll go first this time.”

His low, resonant voice coiled around her like chains.

His gaze bore into her with quiet intensity.

Her body instinctively tensed, but Lenette forced herself to stay calm.

‘If I lose this power struggle, it’s over.’

She braced herself even harder.

“Fine. Go ahead and ask,” she replied, feigning confidence.

As if amused by her act of defiance, he let out a small scoff, then asked his question without pause.

“Do you want to escape from here?”

“……”

In a way, it was the most obvious question one could ask a bride who had been sold.

But it was also a trap she couldn’t carelessly fall into.

Lenette withheld her answer and did a quick calculation in her mind.

The reason was simple: she had begun to suspect that the man standing in front of her might actually be the very “beast” the slave traders had spoken of.

‘What are the odds that he’s the master of this abandoned palace…?’

Truthfully, she had no idea.

Especially with his non-native appearance, it was even harder to guess.

But as she started thinking more logically, she came to a sensible, grounded conclusion:

It made the most sense to assume that her “groom” wasn’t a literal beast—but this very man from the third floor.

‘…But a noble of mixed blood?’

She had never heard of such a case.

If he ‘was’ the master of the palace, then how should she answer?

‘I should say I don’t want to escape.’

But if he was just a slave like he claimed?

‘Still… the answer would be the same.’

There was no reason to reveal her plans to someone who’d casually claimed to be a black panther handler.

What if he reported her to the real master?

‘But… he already knows I told the truth twice.’

Which meant that if she now said “no,” he’d likely assume it was her lie.

‘So then, the answer I should give is…’

In the blink of an eye, her mind was made up.

She needed an answer so bold and direct that it became suspicious either way—whether it was the truth or a lie.

Lenette looked up at him with a calm expression.

“Yes. I want to escape.”

The man narrowed one eye slightly.

Whether it was truth or lie—he couldn’t quite tell. Just as planned.

He didn’t question whether her answer was true or false.

“Why?”

To that, Lenette gave a sly smile.

“We agreed on only three questions.”

He silently looked down at her, then let out a soft laugh as he stepped back.

“Thorough, aren’t you?”

“You seemed like the type who appreciates that.”

Her remark was clearly aimed at how he’d previously asked if her follow-up had counted as her second question.

At that, his small smirk finally turned into a proper smile.

“Interesting.”

Running a hand lazily through his hair, he glanced down at her with only his eyes.

“Ask your third question.”

Without hesitation, Lenette fired off her final one.

“What’s your name?”

☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓 ☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓

“—What’s your name?”

The moment her last question left her lips, Kazen burst into laughter—far more loudly than before.

Lenette responded calmly.

“It wasn’t meant to be funny.”

True. It wasn’t.

But it genuinely amused him. He hadn’t anticipated that kind of question—not even for a second. How could he not laugh?

From the beginning, she had thrown him off with every response, but that final question… It was something so completely outside his expectations that it surpassed all prior experiences.

“Fascinating.”

Truly amusing. To the point it made him want to let her live.

He didn’t bother stopping the laughter that spilled from him like a gentle stream. Honestly, he felt a twinge of regret—that they’d only agreed on three questions.

If he’d known she’d be this entertaining, they should’ve played a proper game of twenty questions like children do.

“My name, huh.”

He had three names.

The one given by his birth parents. His divine name. And the one used by those he considered his real family.

Whichever he chose, it wouldn’t be a lie.

But Kazen understood the intent behind her question.

After wandering through all sorts of speculation, she had finally arrived at the truth.

‘Then maybe it’s worth meeting that expectation.’

She’d made him laugh, after all. She deserved at least that much of a reward.

A relaxed, low voice slipped from between Kazen’s lips.

“Kazen Tazetra, the husband you so desperately wished would be human.”