Chapter 111
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 111
The carriage set off with Simon and Oscar seated side-by-side, and Abel and Seo-ah sitting opposite them.
Finding seats wasn't the issue. The problem was their legs. Seo-ah aside, the three men were exceptionally tall, far exceeding the average height in Luxen.
And since none of them were floating torsos, eight long legs now crowded the narrow space between the benches.
But to a nobleman with no concept of fairness, such logic was irrelevant.
Thud.
Simon, that son of a bitch, deliberately knocked his knee against Abel’s. It was a silent warning: Don’t get in my way. Even the slightest touch is annoying.
Abel, who had been doing his best to keep his legs clear out of deference to his senior, felt an eyebrow twitch.
Did Simon think he enjoyed this tangled mess?
This was Abel, the man who had dared to suggest a “group project” to the Barbara Wald. He only put up with this nonsense because Simon’s grudges were the stuff of legend, and he had no intention of giving the man an excuse to start one. Besides, they were both just doing their jobs.
Abel looked up at Simon and forced a bright smile, then gestured with his chin toward the impassable aisle.
I can’t exactly chop my legs off, senior. Where do you suggest I put them?
Simon’s face went blank, as if the question itself was an absurdity. Then, he let out his trademark sneer. The moment the sneer formed—
Crunch.
“!”
Simon mercilessly ground his heel into Abel’s foot. Abel’s face contorted, but he made no sound.
Though he was also wearing sturdy dress shoes, preventing his foot from being crushed, the feeling was utterly foul.
The devilish bastard didn’t have an ounce of consideration for others. He was clearly displeased with the four of them traveling together, which made him even more irritable and vicious than usual.
He had his own legs stretched out as far as he pleased, so how in the world was Abel supposed to fold his any further?
Just as Abel’s anger began to simmer…
Tap, tap.
He felt a light touch on his forearm, a world away from the devil’s rough shoves.
It was Seo-ah.
When Abel turned, he saw that she was pressed tightly against the carriage wall, her legs neatly drawn up and flat against the wooden panel.
Across from her, the Marquis had his legs stretched out comfortably, as if he were the sole passenger. To Oscar, who was leisurely reading through a stack of documents, the woman desperately trying to avoid him might as well have not existed.
Just then, Simon nudged his knee again.
Ah, seriously…
The red-eyed devil, who had summoned him so rudely, now gestured toward Seo-ah with a blank expression.
Abel was about to flare up at the silent command to press himself against the wall like she was, but Seo-ah tapped his arm again, as if to calm him. Pointing to the small space between them, she whispered softly, “If you lean back toward me and sit at an angle, I don’t think you’ll bump into him.”
In other words, she was suggesting he lean back toward her to avoid facing Simon directly.
An idea sparked in Abel’s disgruntled mind.
Lean back toward her.
Oh? That’s not a bad idea at all.
Abel, whose anger at Simon’s selfishness had reached its peak, let his expression flip in an instant, replaced by a sly smile.
“Is that okay?”
Seo-ah nodded. “I was just worried you’d be uncomfortable.”
If you’re inviting me, I’d be delighted.
As if he’d been waiting for the invitation, Abel slid over, closing the distance between them. Seo-ah, already as far back as she could go, squeezed herself even tighter against the wall to make room. She was pressed so flat she looked like she might merge with it.
While the two men across from him vied for dominance with their own brands of arrogance, Abel Sting relaxed, a sly motive hidden behind his casual posture. His complaints about the cramped carriage vanished the moment his forearm brushed against hers.
Carriages were all about mobility, after all. A needlessly large one was just a hassle. He was just thinking that if the carriage rattled, he could make a move under the guise of protecting her, when—
A pair of long legs clad in an impeccably tailored suit slid into view. A polished black shoe wedged itself firmly into the space between Abel and Seo-ah.
“……”
Abel, who had been glaring at Simon, cautiously shifted his gaze upward.
The man exuded an arrogance that made Simon von Bernheim’s look like childish posturing. The agents of Reinhardt were called wolves, but if Oscar was a true wolf, the rest of them were little more than dogs.
Oscar was leaning back against the wall at an angle, his legs crossed. Leisurely reading the documents in one hand, he alone possessed an air of elegance in the cramped carriage, utterly unbothered that the Outsider across from him was pressed so tightly against the wall she might as well merge with it, or that the two wolves beside her were baring their teeth at each other.
As Abel found himself momentarily mesmerized by his master’s graceful posture, the deep blue eyes that had been fixed on the documents flicked up to meet his.
“!”
Abel flinched. He quickly dropped his gaze, his mind racing.
Did I do something wrong?
It had been like this since they’d boarded. Oscar, who had actually shown Seo-ah the courtesy of moving his legs for her, had shot Abel a glare as he’d followed her into the carriage.
Still, wasn’t the order to seduce her still in effect?
His heart pounding, Abel stared at the sleek shoe tapping the floor between him and Seo-ah and came to his own conclusion.
He thinks I’m not carrying out the order properly.
Abel looked up at Oscar with renewed determination. He gave his master, who was still staring at him coldly, a smile meant to convey that everything was under control.
Don’t worry, Your Excellency. Just watch. I’ll show you exactly how I seduce her. She’s practically fallen for me already!
Pressed against the wall, Seo-ah stubbornly stared out the window, ignoring the sunlight beating down on her face. Her left cheek, likely from a right-handed blow, was swollen and red, marred by a long, thin cut.
“……”
The bright smile Abel had directed at Oscar vanished like a receding tide.
The groans from beyond that tightly shut door had sounded exactly like Seo-ah’s, no matter how many times he’d replayed them in his mind. With every merciless thud, the groans had grown fainter. He had never felt so powerless as a wolf, yet a swamp-like helplessness dragged at his ankles. It had been that way yesterday, and it was the same today.
The small bottle of ointment in his pocket was warm from his body heat. Uncharacteristically fiddling with it, Abel momentarily forgot that Simon and Oscar were even there.
“Hey, what is it with you and your lips? They’re always a mess.”
Seo-ah, who had been staring out the window, finally turned to look at him.
Seeing her up close made it even worse.
One cheek was a disaster, and her lips were in terrible shape. Abel scolded her as he vigorously wiped his hands with a wet towel.
“You chew on them whenever you’re the least bit troubled, don’t you? I swear, since the day I met you, I haven’t seen them intact once. They’re in absolute tatters. You realize that, right?”
As if on cue, Seo-ah started to bite her lip again.
“And there you go again,” Abel said immediately. “Leave your lips alone.”
“…It’s just a habit. It doesn’t even hurt that much.”
“What do you mean it doesn’t hurt? You have to break bad habits.”
He uncapped the ointment as he spoke. The purple salve, whatever it contained, was remarkably effective. He naturally moved to apply it for her, but Seo-ah waved her hands in embarrassment.
“Oh, no, Abel. I can do it myself.”
“Who said I was putting it on your lips?”
“……”
Her face, flushing with embarrassment, looked just like an apple.
“I have to put it on your cheek. Your cheek.”
“…I can do that myself, too,” she said, touching her own face.
Abel obediently took a step back. “Really? Go ahead, then.”
Good luck. There’s no mirror.
The cut wasn’t bleeding, and she probably didn’t even know it was there, so how would she find it? Her reflection was useless in the bright window, and there was nowhere else to look. Sure enough, Seo-ah began fumbling around her own cheek, searching for the wound.
“Higher. No, too high. Lower. To the side… no, a bit more. Yeah, right there.”
Seo-ah, who had been following his directions, narrowed her eyes when his guidance stopped right next to her lips. Abel’s face was full of mischief.
“If you put it there, it’ll look exactly like a mustache,” he teased. “You should probably apply it to the other side, too, just to keep it even.”
Laughter is contagious, especially when it comes from someone you feel a connection with.
In this carriage, the only person she could feel any kinship with was Abel. A dry laugh began to form in her clear eyes as she stared at him in disbelief. Abel wiggled his ointment-covered index finger.
“See? It’s purple.”
Her clear eyes crinkled at the corners, and finally, a soft laugh escaped her. Her neat eyes curved beautifully, and her face, with its slightly raised cheekbones, was a world away from her usual expressionless, intimidated self. Her smile, revealing a hint of pearly white teeth, felt less like autumn fading to winter and more like the first thaw of spring. And just like that, the spring in her smile seemed to wash away the swamp-like helplessness that had clung to him.
“If you don’t want a mustache, then hold still. I’ll just put it on your cheek. Why are you making such a fuss over something so simple? What kind of dirty thoughts are you having?”
“D-dirty? You shouldn’t say things like that.”
“That’s because you’re looking at me like I’m some kind of creep. If you don’t even know where the cut is, just stay still and say ‘thank you.’”
With that, as if determined not to give her any room to argue, he dabbed the ointment onto her wound. Though she flinched, she had nothing left to say and didn’t pull away. Abel applied the salve to her wound with extreme gentleness. Her skin, covered in fine peach fuzz, was soft beneath his touch.