Chapter 72
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 72
"Alright."
"…?"
What? Just yesterday, she told me it was out of the question and to go back.
While a dumbfounded Abel hesitated, Barbara gestured for the Wolves behind her to stand down. At her signal, the men who had been baring their teeth at him reluctantly smoothed their expressions and stepped away. Of course, they didn't miss the chance to growl at him to watch his manners as they brushed past.
Naturally, Abel Sting wasn't one to back down.
"Worry about yourselves."
After tossing back a retort, not yielding an inch, Abel steeled himself and faced Barbara.
An absolute strength and coldness radiated from her, the kind that suggested she wouldn't bleed even if pricked with a needle. Unconsciously clenching his fists, Abel lowered his voice.
"So you won't interfere today?"
"I have never interfered with your work."
"Senior."
Abel called out with a smirk, but not a single crack appeared in Barbara's expression.
"She doesn't seem to be in very good condition today, either."
"Oh, is that so?"
"……."
"Body aches? I knew it. Did the little one run around too much?"
"…Yes. Something like that."
Barbara's reaction was slightly odd, but Abel didn't have the luxury to worry about her every move. A serious look settled over his face.
"Can I go in through the hallway door, Senior?"
Barbara fell silent for a moment, lost in thought, while Abel waited patiently for her answer.
A moment later, having finished her assessment, the shrewd old wolf brushed past him and spoke.
"Go ahead."
* * *
Should the water be colder?
Oscar let the chilling, misty spray pour over his head.
The intense cold, sharp enough to feel like freezing to death, had granted him a fleeting moment of peace. Yet, even as the water sluiced over him, the feverish afterimage refused to fade. The burning vision made the pit of his stomach clench.
Oscar turned the water on full blast.
The gushing stream enveloped him like a waterfall, its chill threatening to freeze his skull. A sharp pain shot like lightning from the crown of his head to his toes, and for a split second, his mind went completely blank.
But it was only for a moment.
Skin so fine it looked as though powder would dust off at a touch. A body as white as her pale face, like untouched snow.
"Damn it…."
He spat out a curse, but an afterimage that refused to yield to a freezing shower wasn't about to vanish at a mere swear word.
She had been curled up the entire time. Her narrow shoulders were hunched, making the hollow of her spine and the sharp outline of her shoulder blades even more pronounced. With her hair swept to one side, her long, slender nape was left completely exposed.
With each thrust, those delicate, sketch-like contours had trembled. Her narrow shoulders curled in a little more, and her exposed, white nape flinched.
He hadn't been able to stop. The inner walls clung to him, layer by layer, as if trying to hold him there forever. It felt as if every single one of his nerve endings was fused to the walls gripping him.
Yet the afterimage that stubbornly remained, refusing to be washed away, was not of the moment he was swallowed by her damp heat. It was not of the wretched moment he let out a beastly groan and spilled his seed.
"……."
Would it have been better if that was all it was?
Oscar felt as if he had stepped into a deep, sticky swamp. He knew he was sinking, but he couldn't pull his foot free.
Right after spilling his sickeningly prolonged lust.
When he collapsed onto the woman, who no longer had the strength to hold her knees up. The body he held, as if in an embrace, was so soft he couldn't bring himself to crush her completely.
From her white nape—a nape that looked as if it had never known anything filthy—came a scent like rain-soaked grass with every throb of her pulse. Did that even make sense? Even as he ridiculed himself, Oscar had inhaled deeply, drawing that fresh, green scent into his lungs.
It felt as if the clean scent of grass was seeping deep into his lungs, lungs filled with ash and soot like a wasteland ravaged by wildfire. A soft, warm body he couldn't bring himself to crush.
Then, he suddenly realized his eyes were closed. He felt a gaze as light as a feather's touch settle on his face.
She was looking at him.
Ssssshhhh.
Amidst the waterfall-like torrent, Oscar became trapped in that moment again, not even realizing he had held his breath.
Why?
Oscar opened his eyes.
They were too close for him to focus properly. Her pupils were a blur, but he could vividly see her transparent brown eyes widen. The moment their gazes met, she whipped her head away.
The cold air in the room settled on the lips that had just been touching his. Oscar stared in disbelief as the woman buried her face in her palms.
How ridiculous.
"…And yet you were peeping."
His cold voice bounced off the cavernous bathroom walls and echoed back.
Oscar took several deep, irritated breaths before turning off the water. Drying himself with a towel, he slipped into the dressing gown always kept in the corner of the bathroom. Then, out of habit, he took a step toward the dressing room.
But he stopped a few steps short of it. He stood frozen, his gaze drifting past the thick curtains toward the door leading to the bedroom.
Head tilted slightly, eyes narrowed, he glared toward the bedroom before his gaze flicked back to the dressing room door.
Breathing slowly and quietly, like a predator before a hunt, his gaze dropped to the floor—just as hers had.
As he bowed his head, his wet hair fell forward. A droplet clinging to the tip fell to his feet. Another formed in its place. The moment that new droplet fell, unable to bear its own weight—
A chilling grind of teeth escaped his clenched jaw. At the same time, abandoning the path he would have normally taken, the master of Reinhardt turned toward the bedroom.
Passing through the bathroom in an instant, he reached the bedroom. His gaze immediately swept to the side of the bed where she had been lying, too weak to stand. That pale, fragile face, looking as though it would shatter at a touch, consumed by misery.
"……."
The woman was gone.
But she wasn't the only thing missing.
A laugh—half disbelief, half mockery—escaped his lips.
"She cleaned up quite thoroughly."
He could tell at a glance that it wasn't Lady Barbara's doing. It wasn't her style.
Oscar walked toward the awkwardly made bed.
The woman, who had seemed to lack the strength to stand or the sanity to think, had taken away the blankets ruined during the night. And in their place, she had dared to lay down the one she had been using.
The bed in the adjoining room was undoubtedly narrower than the Marquis's. Naturally, a blanket tailored for it was too small for his. But in her haste, she wouldn't have had the luxury to care about such details. Or perhaps, in her simple mind, she thought that since she had taken his blanket, she ought to leave her own in its place.
Did she think I would come back here to sleep?
Then what about you?
He stood there, hands shoved into his gown's pockets, staring at the edge of the clumsily arranged blanket.
Sensing a presence in the study, Oscar turned around.
He initially thought it was Lady Barbara, but as the presence drew closer, he realized it wasn't her. The footsteps crossing the study were heavier than hers, the stride longer.
A man, not a woman.
It wasn't a servant coming to tidy the study, either. He realized it at the exact moment the mysterious footsteps headed for the adjoining room—where the woman was staying.
"Seo-ah."
A voice, impossibly tender and gentle, called her name.
* * *
Seo-ah lay on the new blanket Lady Barbara had brought her, blinking.
Even the ceiling, the same color as the walls, felt utterly foreign. Sunlight creeping through the window painted patterns on the smooth, seamless ceiling.
As she lay on her back against the plush bedding, her gaze drifted toward the window. If she sat up, she would have a clear view of the annex across the way, but lying down, only the sky was visible through the glass.
Gray clouds still lingered in the sky where the rain had stopped, but a brilliant blue was peeking out from behind them. The sunlight was growing brighter, too.
In her tilted field of vision, the food Lady Barbara had brought came into view, steaming on the table.
I should eat something.
Come to think of it, she hadn't eaten a proper meal since yesterday. She should have been hungry, but she had no appetite. And yet, she felt a strange emptiness inside.
Is this hunger? Or something else?
Seo-ah, who had been lying on her back with just her head turned, rolled completely onto her side to face the window. One cheek pressed into the blanket, and instantly, the unique scent of the manor's bedding filled her nose.
The scent of the bedding.
It was a scent she had only encountered after coming to Reinhardt Manor, one she found difficult to describe. It made her think, If cotton blossoms had a fragrance, this is probably what they would smell like.
Inhaling it quietly always made her feel warm and cozy. Sometimes, she would pull the blanket over her head just to breathe it in.
Seo-ah took shallow breaths as she lay on her side.
"……."
The blanket in the adjoining room had smelled of this, too.
This warm, cozy, cotton-like scent had lingered on Oscar's blanket—the one she had buried her face in all night.
Oscar.