#018 "Can't I be curious?"
"Can't I be curious?"
It was the kind of face that would demand a hundred reasons why she couldn't answer yes. Even for someone as cold and blunt as Catherine, she had no desire to dredge up nonexistent excuses one by one.
Thanks to him, she'd driven off the imperial knights, and she'd even gained a sturdy gardener.
"They're not exactly trustworthy knights anyway. It was obvious. Word must have spread far and wide about whatever strange thing you did in front of them."
How was he so spot-on! Catherine let out a pure gasp of admiration at his uncanny insight.
"How did you know?"
His furrowed brows smoothed out as Chezare smiled.
"It seemed like something Lady Panya would do."
Was this a compliment or an insult? Even if she took it as the latter, it'd just sour her mood, so she decided to accept it as the former.
Catherine turned and settled into a chair well away from Chezare. In response, he promptly filled a waiting teacup and slid it toward her, as if he were the host.
"Chezare."
At her quiet call, he nodded slightly while still scribbling his reply.
"You said it was obvious, so why bother coming all the way here to check?"
His elegant hand froze mid-motion. Even from her seat, Catherine could see the black ink bleeding across the paper.
Chezare stared at the tip of his pen with an expression that was neither stiff nor smiling—something in between. Then, in a perfectly casual tone, he replied.
"I had a few things to confirm, so I stopped by while I was at it."
He lifted the pen from the newspaper. Phew. Catherine let out a small sigh of relief in her mind. The ink he used was surely top-quality, and it pained her to see it wasted like that.
While I was at it. Did Chezare have some other business with her?
"1,000 reids?"
The only unresolved issue between them that came to mind was the 1,000 reids, no matter how she racked her brain.
Chezare blinked slowly before asking back.
"Are you asking to borrow it?"
Had he forgotten after just a few days? It was a whole 1,000 reids!
"No. You told me to look for a new mansion and gave me 1,000 reids. I tried to give it back that day, but I left it here. Don't you remember?"
She'd kept the crisp, precious bills tucked safely in her wallet's inner pocket, anticipating she'd run into him. Catherine pulled out the 1,000 reids and handed them over.
"Here. Take it this time."
Chezare let out an exclamation of admiration a beat late, as if only just recalling the exchange. He stretched out his long arm and pocketed the bills.
"You really forgot, huh."
She should have pretended not to know.
"Not exactly. I just never imagined you'd actually return it."
"I'm not that shameless, even if I don't have much to my name."
"I know."
An inexplicable heaviness settled over the kitchen. All because Chezare had finally dropped his smile.
Wondering if she'd said something wrong without realizing, Catherine gauged his mood. Whatever had displeased him, black ink was once again staining the corner of the newspaper.
As Catherine's tea cooled, Chezare asked her.
"How's the mansion?"
It didn't feel like genuine curiosity. It seemed more like a random topic tossed out to break the heavy atmosphere.
Catherine appreciated his intent. At least it meant he didn't want to upset her.
"What exactly are you asking about?"
"Like I asked before. No strange things happening there that make you tremble in fear or throw you into confusion?"
Catherine recalled Roze's face from that late night, when she'd come trembling to her room.
"I haven't sensed anything like that at all. But Roze had a rough time for a while. She kept hearing weird noises in the hall and having nightmares every other night. But after moving her room next to my bedroom, all the strange stuff stopped like magic."
Unable to overlook the change, she'd placed Demian's room on the first floor, right next to Roze's, without question. And he'd had no complaints.
"Because of that magic circle in the basement?"
Chezare fell silent. She didn't like how he clammed up the moment the magic circle came up.
Catherine was the owner of this mansion, so she had the right to know about the basement magic circle... Did she?
Even if she did, did she have the right to force Chezare to reveal its nature right now? Catherine pondered whether to press him directly.
From what she'd observed over the past few days, Chezare might be mischievous and secretive, but he wasn't a bad person. There could be a reason. Prying might even harm her.
"Hmm."
She looked up. Chezare's gaze was fixed not on her, but out the window toward the mansion's front gate.
"We have a visitor."
Contrary to his words, the gate was empty.
"Any holy knights who might come looking for you?"
As if. The only holy knights Catherine knew were Carlos and Percival, her forced suitors. And if one of them would come seeking her again...
"I'll be right back."
It was probably him. As she left the kitchen, Catherine added a final precaution, just in case.
"Oh, and if the wall collapses, no need to come out. Just let it be."
She pulled the bread bag she'd kept over her head and stepped outside. Through the small eye holes, she spotted Demian's straw hat turned her way.
"Where are you going?"
"Don't follow."
"No lady in that getup would want me tagging along anyway."
"I mean, no matter what happens, don't come out..."
Thud!
The timing was perfect. Catherine patted Demian's shoulder—his eyes wide—as she stared helplessly at the crumbling mansion wall.
"Finish what you're doing. It's my personal business."
"...The wall collapsing is personal business? I can guess."
A tall silhouette emerged through the swirling dust. Catherine double-checked her bread bag was secure and walked toward the broken wall.
There stood a man wearing an identical bread bag, hands in his trouser pockets.
Catherine was momentarily speechless.
"Hey, goat shit."
The familiar voice from the bread bag waved its hands suddenly.
"Wait, scratch that. Pretend you didn't hear. Hey, Anne."
Catherine snorted.
"What's to scratch? You're the only one in the world who'd show up at someone's house and smash their wall right away."
The bread bag froze in place, resolute. Aside from its rising and falling chest, there was no movement. Then one hand rose to scratch the back of its neck.
"Knew it."
The man strode forward without hesitation. Catherine crossed her arms, looking up at the bread bag as if to say, Speak if you have something to say.
"Your voice sounded weirdly familiar. Your face crossed my mind once, but no way you'd be here, I thought. I figured I was crazy for not forgetting you."
Catherine eyed him silently. Then it hit her how utterly unnatural this situation was. She and Percival didn't share a bond deep enough for such a forced reunion.
"Sorry, but I'm not curious at all what you thought hearing my voice. If you're done venting, why not head back?"
"Why didn't you show?"
His tone was flat. So flat it tickled her ears. But Catherine knew exactly what his attitude meant.
"Are you mad?"
The man was blaming her now. After they'd agreed to run away together. After ditching all duties and rights to vanish far away, why had she abandoned him?
"I don't get it. Why are you mad at me?"
"Am I mad? I'm just asking you purely, Anne. Why weren't you there that day, in that place?"
"Because I didn't want to."
Catherine was surprised at her own unexpected composure. It let her confirm one thing: I really feel nothing for this man anymore.
"You didn't either."
So she didn't feel petty saying it.
"I wasn't the only one missing from our promised spot. None of us were there."
Though he couldn't see it, Catherine smiled brightly inside her bread bag.
"I won't ask why you weren't there, unlike you. I don't hold onto lingering regrets."
Her few short words must have struck a nerve. Percival stormed forward, sending her bread bag flying off her head.
Forcing her to meet those dark, boiling crimson eyes—like molten lava—through the torn hole.
Up close like this, she noticed his once-delicate features had hardened considerably.
Shameless. He wasn't there either, after all.
Catherine recalled the scene etched in her mind like a black-and-white photo. That day, returning from Panya to Orleans, in the afternoon.
Her carriage passed a rhododendron field where an old zelkova tree bent halfway over.
Stop for a bit.
Only ten minutes left until the promised time. Of course, she had no intention of going along with Percival's foolish proposal. She was just curious.
Would Percival really show?
Catherine halted the carriage and gazed at the scene. But even after ten minutes passed, the flowerbed swayed emptily in the breeze.
Did you lose something here, miss?
Eyes that had been on a book turned to Catherine. Only then did she turn and face her accompanying maid.
No.
A strange mix of heaviness and lightness settled in her heart—profoundly subtle. She simply thought: Even someone like Percival must regret his words sometimes.
The rhododendrons are so pretty. I've seen enough. Let's go back.
She never saw Percival again after that day. So much had changed since then. But this much remained the same.
Percival's thick, sharp crimson eyes.
Percival said to Catherine.
"You were prettier back then."
"That's why you were bewitched."
"But not now."
"Sorry I'm less pretty these days."
Percival closed his eyes quietly and muttered in a boiling voice.
"...Fuck, why'd you show up in front of me again? You really set out to mess with my head, didn't you?"