Chapter 127
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 127
The rustle of leaves, the chirping of birds, and the dry crunch of something underfoot drifted into her consciousness.
In that instant, the memories of her final moments flooded back, as if a dam had finally burst.
“Get away!”
The desperate scream she had shrieked at him echoed in her ears, followed by the deafening explosion that had torn through her memory. The sudden blackout, the impact that had sent her flying—it all struck her at once, and she instinctively curled into a ball.
“Han Seo-ah!”
A voice, so vivid it made her heart ache, pierced through the haze.
While drifting in that tomb-like space, hovering between life and death, she’d heard a distant, echoing cry—a voice filled with a fierce determination never to leave her behind.
Was that real, or was it just her own lingering attachment to life?
Sunlight pierced her closed eyelids. Feeling its warmth, Seo-ah opened her eyes. She was in a modest wooden cabin. Her surroundings were simple: a rustic chair, a table, and what looked like medical tools. But while the cabin was rustic, the blanket covering her was as soft as those at the Reinhardt Manor.
Did I… survive? Then what about him?
“Oscar.”
A bearded Oscar, an Oscar desperately calling her name. The image tangled with her other memories, making her head spin. None of it felt real; it all seemed like a dream.
Was he safe?
Her heart sank. Was everyone else safe? As her sluggish mind finally cleared, she could no longer lie still. She tried to push herself up, but the sound of someone coming down the stairs froze her.
The creak of footsteps on the wooden stairs made her already pounding heart race. A tall silhouette appeared beyond a hanging curtain. She watched as the figure slowly turned toward her.
“…”
“…”
It felt as if the world had gone silent once more.
Seo-ah felt his gaze on her cheek, a tangible heat even from behind the curtain.
The figure, who had been frozen in place, stepped around the flimsy fabric.
The curtain fluttered. Before she could process it, he was there, dressed in sleek black trousers and a crisp shirt.
Oscar.
But he looked different. His hair was slicked back, revealing sharp eyebrows, a straight nose, and a jawline so clean it could cut. This was a far cry from the disheveled man of her memories, with long hair falling over his eyes and a beard covering his chin. Before her stood the sophisticated and sharp Marquis Reinhardt.
Oscar tucked his chin slightly, staring intently down at her.
Her senses, which had been slowly returning, seemed to melt away under his gaze. It was always like this when his eyes—burning hot yet freezing cold—met hers. Her chest tightened, and her fingers curled.
Perhaps that was why looking at him always threw her back to the days when she used to peek at her peers over the wall. A thrilling tension melted her from the inside out. Even as she trembled, she couldn’t look away.
Unable to bear his gaze any longer, Seo-ah turned her head. She pressed her palms against the bed to push herself up, but Oscar, who had been standing still, suddenly strode toward her.
He closed the distance in a few steps and cupped her cheek just as she was awkwardly trying to sit up.
“…”
Her face, framed by her softly falling black hair, was revealed. Her eyes were sunken from weight loss, but her bright pupils hadn't lost their light.
Oscar held his breath, gazing into those shining eyes. But their contact was brief; her gaze soon wavered and fell. She tried to turn her head, uncomfortable with his touch. When he loosened his grip, she looked away as if she had been waiting for the chance.
Oscar slowly clenched and unclenched his empty hand.
“I guess it’s real this time.”
Yes, you smiling at me, not avoiding my eyes… all of that was just an illusion created by a fool like me.
A faint laugh escaped him.
But it didn’t matter.
Oscar placed his hand on her forehead as she flinched, her warmth seeping into his palm. Through the curtain of her hair, he could see the flushed tip of her ear.
But then, the woman who had been hiding her face behind her hair slowly looked up.
She was half-risen, her hands pressed against the sheets, while he stood over her.
Her gaze quietly scanned his legs, torso, and arms, before finally settling on the right hand resting on her forehead.
The scar on Oscar’s palm had healed without him even realizing it. He had forgotten about the wound, but as she looked up at his hand, the healed scar suddenly began to itch.
“…Are you not hurt? Your palm…”
“You shouldn’t be worrying about someone else’s injuries right now.”
The words slipped out before he could think. Her head, which had lifted slightly, dropped back down.
Oscar stared blankly at the crown of her head, then clenched his teeth. He hesitated, uncharacteristically, before replying slowly.
“…I’m not hurt.”
At that, her head lifted slightly, and then she gave the same reply he had heard in his illusions.
“I’m glad.”
“…”
The breath rising from within him was hot. He hadn’t slept in far too long. He had tried to close his eyes on his physician’s advice, but it had been impossible.
He wondered if his sleep-deprived mind was finally breaking down, if her saying she was glad was just another illusion.
Veins spiderwebbed across the whites of his eyes. Oscar grabbed her face again. He held her so she couldn’t escape, forcing her to look only at him. Don’t look at anything else, don’t listen to anything else. Even if everything disappears, even if only you and I are left, it will be fine.
“Look at me.”
Look at me with those eyes—the ones that search for me even when they’re closed, the ones that ask me to wait.
“…Smile.”
Just like back then, looking only at me.
“…Your Excellency.”
Her quiet call and confused gaze snapped him out of his haze.
The strength drained from the hand holding her cheek. Straightening up, Oscar slowly ran a hand down his face and let out a chuckle, his shoulders shaking.
Seo-ah stared blankly at him, at the way his chest heaved as he laughed.
Asking her to smile all of a sudden…
Then, Oscar, still chuckling, abruptly turned around. His sleek back moved away without a moment’s hesitation. He stepped past the sheer curtain and opened the cabin door.
* * *
Meanwhile, the Wolves outside were engaged in their own brand of camaraderie, attempting to explain Oscar’s current state to Simon and his men.
“So, you’re saying he won’t even let us smoke here?”
“Not even the smell of smoke is allowed.”
“What the hell does that mean? Then what about His Excellency?”
“He doesn’t smoke either.”
“…What on earth are you talking about?”
One of Simon’s men kept repeating the question as if his ears were blocked. Simon, who would normally have kicked such a subordinate in the shins, just blinked as if he had heard something horrific.
But Simon, who was convinced that everyone except himself and Oscar was an idiot, threw away the cigarette he was smoking. Not because he believed the absurd words, but because he had simply lost his appetite for it.
Just then, the tightly shut cabin door clicked open.
However, the Oscar who emerged—the man who was supposedly guarding the target without eating or sleeping—looked far more put-together than they’d been led to believe.
“…Didn’t they say he wasn’t shaving?”
The Wolves were silent.
And for good reason. Oscar was dressed well enough to attend a palace meeting right away. Forget a palace meeting—he wouldn’t look out of place if he were dropped into a high society gathering.
The Wolves, being men who viewed Oscar only as an object of obedience and reverence, had never thought much about his appearance. Yet even they were momentarily dazed. He was beyond handsome—he was dazzling.
Even against the backdrop of the wretched cabin, dressed in just a white shirt and trousers.
Though he had lost weight, his naturally robust physique was solid, his long limbs enough to make even men who cared nothing for proportions nod in approval. Furthermore, his neatly exposed forehead and dark eyebrows… Wait, a neatly exposed forehead?
“…Did he actually put on pomade?”
What made him look so different was his neatly slicked-back hair.
“He even buttoned his shirt all the way up.”
Oscar had, in other words… dressed up.
“…Why? To meet the Tekan Ambassador?”
A man who dressed casually even for banquets he was forced to attend was putting on pomade just to meet the Tekan Ambassador?
An inexplicable shiver ran down their spines.
Simon felt much the same as he approached Oscar. The closer he got, the more terrifying Oscar’s pristine appearance became. Gulping, Simon was about to report, but Oscar spoke first.
“The Tekan Ambassador.”
At his question, Simon let out a sigh of relief.
Of course.
He quickly reported the circumstances of bringing the Tekan Ambassador, as well as the location and status of the hotel where he was currently staying.
“…Time is of the essence, Your Excellency. The vessel that was anchored in Ishas Bay must have already arrived near the Tekan Canal.”
Oscar, whose insignia had been returned to him, seemed lost in thought. Then, he finally spoke.