Chapter 463
Chapter 463
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 463
Chapter Title: Perfume (4)
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1.
Amelia bolted out with a force rivaling the one Eloa had used to kick the door open.
Siwoo could only stare blankly at her retreating figure.
"I'll go brew some tea."
The teapot she'd just steeped, still warm, was right there in plain sight.
It was an obvious excuse.
But that didn't mean he found Amelia's behavior pathetic.
If anything, he was the pathetic one.
He'd spread his legs wide without a plan, yet lacked the ability to clean up the mess. His indecisiveness, his inability to push through with resolve, had let things spiral this far.
"Did I... make some kind of mistake?"
Eloa's face stiffened rigidly, and Amelia's awkward exit only fueled her growing unease.
Meanwhile, combinations of the current situation were forming in Eloa's mind.
Eloa had no connection to Amelia.
Moreover, it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say she'd heard less about her from Siwoo than from Sharon.
Yet Siwoo wouldn't have risked his life for no reason.
And if the one he'd saved was a "witch," only one ironic possibility came to mind.
No matter how beloved a disciple he was, there was one "quality" of Siwoo's that Eloa could never call a good point: his history with women.
Siwoo's expression made it plain as day—he wanted to chase after her right now.
Eloa gave a wry smile and thumped the top of his head with her fist.
"Ow!"
It wouldn't raise a bump, but there was real emotion behind it, startling Siwoo into clutching his head.
"Looks like I need to hear what happened."
"Actually..."
"Who said now? Go chase her and console her."
Siwoo looked at Eloa in surprise.
Truth be told, he hadn't chased after Amelia immediately not just because of the stubborn set of her shoulders screaming "Don't follow me!" as she stormed out.
His master had rushed over barefoot out of worry for her foolish disciple.
He couldn't just leave without properly explaining the situation to such an Eloa.
But Eloa didn't pry for details.
She didn't scold him or cling to him possessively.
Instead, she simply understood.
She trusted him so deeply that no words were needed.
"The state of affairs in the present world is moving at a breakneck pace, so I must head back immediately. Seeing you're safe is enough for me."
"Master, you came all this way..."
"If you're really sorry, a deep kiss would do... but I don't particularly want to kiss you with that pathetic look on your face."
Eloa hugged Siwoo tightly and stroked his head.
Siwoo had saved her when she'd been consumed by hollow vengeance and on the verge of breaking.
Eloa was human too—she couldn't claim to have no possessiveness at all.
But she liked to think she wasn't so petty as to steal priority from someone who needed his touch right now.
"I'm fine, so go on. I'll hear the details later."
"Master..."
"No matter how much you stare, I won't kiss you, so hurry."
Siwoo gazed at Eloa with trembling eyes, her face etched with a benevolent smile.
She hadn't said a word, yet it felt like she knew everything.
The old Eloa might not have, but the current one understood what "love" truly was.
She didn't even need to repeat that no kiss was necessary—it pierced right through the faint guilt weighing on his heart.
Kissing Eloa here would make it impossible for him to chase Amelia with a clear conscience.
"Thank you."
Siwoo bowed deeply to the master who was pushing her foolish disciple onward, then dashed out to find Amelia.
But she wasn't on the third floor with the kitchen, nor the second-floor workshop, nor the first-floor sales counter.
"Haa..."
Siwoo sighed.
He could immediately guess where Amelia, who'd said she'd brew tea, had gone.
These past few days, Amelia had been like a stray cat—hesitant to approach, hovering just out of reach.
One moment she'd cling to his side like a lover, the next she'd be keeping her distance when he turned around.
He understood what was going through her mind.
Seeing Siwoo's lover return so suddenly because of the mess he'd caused—what despair must that have stirred in such an Amelia?
How much of it was his fault? He'd have to list it all out until his mouth went dry.
Siwoo turned toward the cabin in the gulpin tree woods.
Amelia would be there, as if asking him to find her.
Waiting for him.
2.
The truth was, she knew.
Nothing had changed.
While Siwoo and Amelia drifted apart, many lovers had appeared by his side.
She had no intention of resenting him for it.
The first chance had been hers.
She'd squandered it and led things down the worst possible path—it was self-inflicted karma for Amelia Merigold, no one else's fault.
She'd thought it was fine if someone else was by his side.
He smiled at her, held her hand, watched over her as she slept, shared wonderful moments together.
She'd closed her eyes tight, ignoring the truth, basking only in the happiness of the moment.
She'd never seriously thought about what lay ahead.
Then the Tiphereth Duke burst in suddenly, hugging Siwoo and trying to kiss him.
Amelia felt her heart throb painfully.
Now, at last, she felt like she was truly facing reality.
Siwoo had understood her, forgiven her without holding her mistakes against her.
Because he was kind.
But his kindness wasn't just for Amelia.
It was equally bestowed on the twins, on the witch Sharon, on the Tiphereth Duke.
Once she realized that late, she couldn't stop thinking about it.
So, where did Amelia Merigold rank for Shin Siwoo?
"I don't want to admit it..."
They'd met with such hardship.
They'd only just started getting close.
Yet by his side was already a woman who seemed far more cherished, more precious, one who hadn't hurt Siwoo in the past.
She knew it was pathetic whining from someone already in debt.
She knew it was the sulk of a childish brat.
Jealousy now, of all times.
After apologizing so profusely, to brazenly feel jealousy without knowing her place.
That was why the resentment and spite toward Siwoo that kept surfacing turned instantly into self-reproach, stabbing sharply at her chest.
So she ran.
Ran again.
Even though she'd resolved to face it head-on.
But this nameless homunculus, this public enemy whose name she only knew—this feeling terrified her more.
"Pathetic."
Pathetic.
Pathetic.
Everything was pathetic.
Pretending to confront it boldly while shoving away thoughts she didn't want to face.
Getting drunk on their cozy life alone together, forgetting the pain he'd endured because of her, just nagging for kisses.
When truth finally arrived before her eyes, throwing away the courage she'd barely mustered and fleeing back to the cabin in disgrace.
Amelia flew to the gulpin tree woods cabin, using magic to speed her way.
But even this place offered no sanctuary.
The worries that dogged her heels relentlessly wouldn't leave her be as she lay there, curled under the blanket.
What was Siwoo doing right now?
Catching up with his lover after so long?
Or maybe talking about Amelia, the culprit behind it all.
Siwoo wouldn't badmouth her behind her back.
But her petty faults couldn't be hidden, no matter how she spun them.
How the Tiphereth Duke took it was up to her, but if Amelia were in her shoes, she wouldn't look kindly on a witch who'd hurt Siwoo.
"......"
As she rolled herself up in the blanket and flopped face-down on the bed.
A sharp pain poked at her chest from below.
She didn't need to look to know what it was.
Her master's final letter, one she never parted from her body no matter what.
Seeing the letter brought her wretched state back into sharp focus once more.
She'd vowed to change, yet here she was, unchanged—even the evidence hid in her clothes.
Of course, after the funeral, for that long stretch of time, Amelia hadn't read it not just because she didn't want to revisit her grief.
She loved and respected her master deeply, yet resented the unilateral, dictatorial choice made without consultation.
In the depths of that love-hate so numbingly intense, it was Amelia's tiny act of rebellion and resentment.
Yet with stubborn pride suddenly rearing up in her chest, Amelia bit her lip.
Another Amelia inside was sneering, "Are you scared of this too, so you haven't opened it?"
After agonizing for a while, Amelia squeezed her eyes shut.
She didn't even need the paper knife.
The wax seal stamped atop tore away easily with the slightest force.
Amelia unfolded the letter with trembling hands.
Three sheets' worth.
Just three pieces of paper, yet why did they feel so heavy?
What made Amelia's tightly shut eyes fly open was...
The all-too-familiar scent of perfume.
First, the fresh, light notes of Bulgarian rose and ylang-ylang spread out.
As her mind wandered amid the bright bouquet's initial aroma, the rounded, condensed jasmine fragrance.
Like grains crumbling from a single white flower that could fill a room, scattering elegantly over the rose.
Then, a powdery musk shyly peeking out, wrapping everything like the bouquet's wrapping paper.
And blended delicately with animal notes—her master's body scent.
Among the senses, smell links most powerfully to memory.
The letter was steeped not just in her master's favorite perfume, but in her now-unattainable scent.
It embraced Amelia gently, just like falling asleep in her master's arms.
"Master..."
She mustn't cry yet.
Mustn't cry yet.
She repeated it to herself, but the tears wouldn't stop.
Memories and happy times spent with her master in this cabin flashed by like a montage, tenderly stroking her scar-ridden heart.
Swallowing sobs, she looked down at the paper.
Familiar handwriting filled it neatly and densely, pressed firmly into the page.
And the voice she'd longed so desperately to hear again rang out.
"To my beloved daughter, Amelia."