QT: I hijacked a harem system and now I'm ruining every plot(GL)-Chapter 92: Fall in line

Chapter 92 – Cedric POV

I watch as she leaves.

Lady Daphne.

I was trying to get to know her. I’ve heard the rumors, of course—the wedding night fiasco, the whispers that she was traumatized. But isn’t a year enough to move on?

Besides, that wasn’t me. That was the previous Cedric. I’m not him. I’m better.

I stretch, rolling my shoulders. Honestly, I don’t have the time or patience for this kind of emotional fragility. She should be grateful I even tried. I’ve heard the way the others speak—how plain she is compared to the rest of the women in my house. They’re not wrong.

I don’t say it to be cruel. It’s just the truth.

Still, I offered her kindness. An invitation. And she turned me down?

Ha.

That’s fine. I’ve got more important things to do than coddle one of my concubines. I’m the Duke of Callum. I’ve rebuilt the water systems, overseen the eradication of disease, and brought order to a crumbling duchy.

Let her sit and paint.

Just then, Merin walks in, quiet and obedient. She moves to clear the teacups, graceful and efficient as always.

And all thoughts of Lady Daphne vanish.

I reach out, curling my hand around her waist and pulling her close. She doesn’t resist.

She never does.

She stiffens slightly as I brush my fingers along her bodice, but she doesn’t pull away.

"Your Grace," she murmurs, bowing her head.

"Forgive me. I cannot today... but I can serve you in other ways."

Her voice is soft, practiced.

She sinks to her knees without hesitation.

Of course she does.

The noble ladies refuse this sort of thing—it’s "beneath them." Apparently, only commoners are allowed to serve their lords this way. I’ve never understood it. But I don’t protest.

She gets to work, and I lean back in the chair, letting myself forget.

I think of Lady Daphne again—how she looked so stiff and uncomfortable today. I was trying to be polite. To open a door, however small. And yet she flinched like I was a threat.

"Unbelievable," I mutter.

She’s not even beautiful. Not in the conventional sense. Quiet, strange, always painting. And somehow, I still tried. I was gracious.

Thoughtful. Took time out of my busy day.

No matter. It was just a whim.

I have been frustrated. Stretched thin, that must be why.

I can’t believe there was a time I used to complain about the nightly duties in bed. Now, all the ladies are pregnant, which means I’m expected to give them space, rest, and time to "recover."

So now... I only have Merin.

And I like her—I do. She’s loyal. Obedient. Consistent.

But it’s getting old.

There’s only so many ways one can be satisfied before boredom starts to creep in, and lately, I’ve found myself thinking more with calculation than desire.

If I want a new concubine, I have to go through the Duchess first.

The Duchess.

I scoff inwardly.

Of course I do. That’s the kind of world I live in. A man needs permission to add to his own harem. She controls the estate, the rules, the optics.

And I play along, like a dutiful husband. Like I don’t know I’m the reason this place is finally thriving.

The sanitation, the rebuilding, the renewed economy—that was me.

And the more successful I am, the more foothold I gain.

The more prestige I gather, the more the nobles start to whisper different things about me. Not the clumsy, soft-spined boy duke anymore.

No.

Now they call me capable. Commanding.

And they’re right.

Let me keep working. Let me keep winning.

Because one day, when I have enough influence—when no one can deny my strength—I won’t need to ask for permission anymore.

Not from the vassals.

Not from the court.

Not even from Evelyne.

They’ll all fall in line. Just wait.

***

Merin POV

I knew this would happen.

He’s changing.

He buttons his shirt and sits back behind the desk, already lost in some scroll or plan, while I gather the tray with the empty tea cups. His voice is already distant. Detached.

This is what happens to women like me. Replaceable. Useful until we’re not.

I’ve been here since the beginning. Since before he had confidence or influence. Since the days when people mocked him and the vassals barely acknowledged his presence.

Now the Duke is important. Respected. Feared, even.

And I am just another maid.

Thanks to his favor, my family now owns land in the town. We’ve built a proper house. That should be enough. I should be grateful.

But it still hurts.

Because I remember when he used to ask about my day. When he looked at me like I was more than just a body.

Now... there are more new maids. Younger. Prettier. Always sent to clean his office or serve him wine.

Everyone wants to catch his eye.

I leave the office and close the door gently behind me.

Such is the life.

The hallway is quiet, but I hear the distant clatter of armor echoing from the stairwell. I make my way toward the servants’ quarters, cradling the emptied teacups.

I shouldn’t feel anything. I knew what this was from the beginning.

But it’s hard. It’s hard watching the man who once asked me about my sick mother without mockery, who smiled when I brought him burnt toast because it was all the kitchens had left, become someone else.

Someone who takes.

Someone who doesn’t say thank you anymore.

I see the other maids—young, lovely, giggling behind their hands. I’m not blind. I know

I’ll be replaced soon. Perhaps not today. But soon.

Still, I walk with my back straight. If I’m to be discarded, I will leave with dignity.

I refuse to beg. I refuse to cry. I’ve seen the way some of the newer maids try to catch his eye—laughing too loudly, bending too low. They don’t realize yet what it’s like to be favored, to be touched only when he’s frustrated, to be forgotten when he’s not.

The pain of fading from his attention is sharp, but not unbearable.