Chapter 14
Chapter 14
Translation: godsn
Under his gaze, Leila trembled helplessly.
Even when pretending to be bold, she was actually quite timid.
Recalling Leila Lewellin's demeanor that had persisted since childhood, Matthias took deliberate steps forward. Stopping about a pace away, he noticed Leila's gaze fixated on his hand—more precisely, on the glasses he held.
"I'm... sorry."
Leila barely managed to part her lips. Though her eyes burned with clear anger, her apology remained polite.
"I never imagined Your Grace would be here. I truly apologize..."
"So if I weren't here, it'd be fine to barge in uninvited?"
Matthias tilted his head slightly as he regarded Leila. Each blink of her large eyes made her darkened lashes cast fluttering shadows over her reddened lids. Though her face looked ready to burst into tears, her gaze remained defiant.
"Like this... like a thief?"
Matthias's low voice carried a hint of mockery. Even in the dim light, the sudden flush spreading across Leila's cheeks was unmistakable.
"I only wanted to retrieve what's mine."
"Ah. This?"
When he raised the glasses, Leila's cheeks burned even brighter. Upon closer look, the rims of her eyes and the tips of her ears had also turned scarlet.
"Yes."
Yet despite her flustered state, her reply came out remarkably bold.
"My glasses that Your Grace hid away."
Though in truth, she was trembling like a leaf.
Matthias turned toward the window, still clutching the glasses—the very window where he'd tossed Leila's hat into the river earlier.
"Ah, no!"
Leila, who'd been staring blankly, suddenly paled and rushed after him.
"Give them back! Please!"
The shawl draped over her shoulders slipped to the floor. Noticing this belatedly, Leila hastily crossed her arms over her deeply cut neckline.
"Don't you find it amusing—you, who's seen every inch of my body, making a fuss over mere sleepwear?"
Matthias chuckled as he looked down at Leila, whose flush now reached the nape of her neck.
"...Th-that was unavoidable!"
Leila shook her head in panic.
"It wasn't my choice, I had no other—"
"Was it mine?"
"Pardon? Ah... I'm sorry. That's not what I meant."
Flustered, Leila grabbed her shawl to cover her shoulders and chest. Her half-dazed expression drew another low chuckle from Matthias.
"Why the sudden ladylike act? You said you're no lady."
"...Whatever I may be, Your Grace is a gentleman."
Her retort, delivered with a demeanor both respectful and provocative, made Matthias laugh again.
"Perhaps."
As his laughter faded, his voice dropped lower.
"Who knows, Leila. Maybe I'm no gentleman either."
"N-no!"
Leila, who'd just finished tightly knotting her shawl, cried out urgently.
"Your Grace is a gentleman!"
"Oh?"
"Yes! The finest gentleman in Carlsbar!"
"That's quite generous praise."
"Everyone who knows Your Grace would agree."
"And you don't think differently?"
"...No."
Yes!
Suppressing the urge to shout that truth, Leila vehemently shook her head.
"Of course not."
Leila Lewellin—tonight, she'd sold her soul for a pair of glasses.
"So please, Your Grace, return them to me."
Though frustration and injustice threatened to spill her tears, Leila pleaded once more.
"They're truly precious and important to me."
She even bowed her head, enduring the humiliation.
She felt capable of kicking every pebble in this forest, yet Leila knew exactly how disadvantaged her position was.
If he wished, Duke Herhardt could easily brand her a thief. He could toss the glasses into the river beyond the window. What would be trivial acts for him would be devastating for her.
So she had to endure.
Just as Leila steeled herself again, Matthias—who'd caught the glasses midair after tossing them—stepped closer. When he closed even that last step of distance, the space between them grew so narrow they could feel each other's body heat.
Startled, Leila looked up. Matthias's gaze as he looked down at her was deep and calm—like still, fathomless waters. The same deep, cold river that had swallowed her whole on that fateful afternoon when all this misfortune began.
Lost in thought, Leila's vision suddenly cleared. Only then did she realize Matthias had placed the glasses back on her face. His hand, gently cupping her cheek, felt as warm and smooth as sun-baked sand.
He was clear, while everything else blurred.
Flustered, Leila tried to avert her gaze, but Matthias tightened his grip on her cheek, forcibly drawing her eyes back to his.
Why...?
She wanted to ask, but an unfamiliar, terrifying sensation overwhelmed her. That was when Matthias's fingers brushed against her lips.
His slow-moving fingertips paused at the slight part between her lips. The sigh he exhaled tickled her forehead. His breath, too, was warm and soft like the touch of his hand.
Locking eyes with Leila, Matthias traced the damp, tender flesh inside her lower lip. His nail grazed her teeth as he pressed deeper before retreating, repeating the motion. Leila, who had even forgotten how to flee, could only helplessly endure his gaze and touch.
Just as she felt like crying from the incomprehensible, bizarre act, Matthias slowly closed his eyes. The hand gripping her jaw loosened its pressure before finally withdrawing.
When his hand finally released her face, Leila staggered backward. The delayed pain of having been unable to breathe properly while trapped in his grasp washed over her.
Trembling faintly, Leila gasped for air. Meanwhile, Matthias opened his eyes. That indifferent blue gaze made her feel ashamed and afraid.
After staring at Leila for a long while, Duke Herhardt issued a quiet command.
"Go."
After that, Leila barely remembered the time it took to leave the annex.
She must have bowed, turned away, and simply walked—walked and walked—but all those memories remained hazy. By the time she became aware of the cool breeze, the chirping of insects, and her own shadow moving beneath the moonlight, she was already standing at the edge of the forest path.
Still dazed, Leila headed toward the cabin. She didn't vent her frustration on pebbles and twigs as she usually did, nor did she run as if fleeing. She simply walked. Her steps, slower than usual, felt weightless, like a ghost.
At the pump in the corner of the yard, Leila drew water and washed her face. Unconsciously, she scrubbed and scrubbed her lips until they swelled red. She rinsed them over and over until her skin stung, but that strange sensation refused to fade.
When she quietly returned to her room, her face, shawl, and the front of her nightgown were soaked with cold water. Without even thinking to dry herself, Leila sat dumbly at the edge of the bed.
She didn't understand anything—but of one thing, she was certain.
She never wanted to face him again.
With a light flick of his fingers, the canary that had been sitting quietly in its cage fluttered over.
Leaning languidly against the windowsill, Matthias extended his hand toward the bird. The canary, as if it were the most natural thing, perched on his finger. The feathers of its clipped wings had grown out just enough for the bird to fly a little farther. He would have to trim them again soon, but it didn't seem necessary to cut them as short as before.
Listening to the canary's song, Matthias gazed out the window. The gardener, Bill Remmer, was hard at work. But Leila Lewellin, who usually assisted him frequently, hadn't been seen for days. Not since the night she came looking for her glasses. Since then, she had been desperately avoiding him.
After returning the canary to its cage, Matthias donned his red hunting jacket.
He desired her.
Matthias now knew exactly what this feeling was.
He desired that woman—Leila.
There was no longer any reason to deny it. Leila Lewellin had grown into a beautiful woman. Beautiful enough to stir a man's desires. But Matthias also knew this: desires of this nature were fleeting, destined to linger only briefly before vanishing.
Was it worth staining his life for something so trivial?
That night, with Leila before him, Matthias thought and thought. And he reached a conclusion.
No.
Leila Lewellin was not worth that price, and his desire for her was something he could control.
Then there was no need.
With that detached conclusion, he had let her go. But letting her flee too far—well.
"The hunting preparations are complete, Master."
Hessen quietly approached and reported. Matthias nodded, took the proffered rifle from him, and left the bedroom.
"Did something happen?"
Kyle, who had been staring intently at Leila, asked with a somewhat concerned expression. Leila, who had been carefully pasting dried wildflower petals into her notebook, calmly lifted her gaze to meet his.
"No."
Leila's voice, answering without hesitation, was as clear as ever.
"Does it seem that way?"
When she asked in return, she slightly furrowed the corners of her eyes and lowered her voice to a whisper. Whenever Leila made that expression and spoke in that tone, Kyle inexplicably felt his cheeks grow warm.
"Lately, you've been cooped up in the house so much. It's strange."
Trying to mask his flustered expression, Kyle shrugged nonchalantly.
Leila blinked slowly a few times before regaining her usual composure. Her lips, which should have been simply closed, seemed to curve into the faintest hint of a smile, and her eyes sparkled with keen intelligence.
"Now that I've found my glasses, I should be going out more, but somehow it's the opposite, isn't it?"
Kyle rested his chin on his hand and watched Leila. She gave a faint smile and meticulously noted down the location and characteristics of the flowers beneath the pasted petals in her notebook.
In a few days, she would probably take that notebook to the library and scour through plant encyclopedias. Wanting to see the smile Leila would make the moment she finally discovered the flower's name, Kyle resolved to accompany her to the library. Leila was the kind of girl who wanted to know the names of every bird and flower in the world. That eccentric side of her was what Kyle liked.
After pressing lightly with a blotter to prevent the ink from smudging, Leila carefully closed her notebook. The recovered glasses glinted brightly on her small face.
"Want to go for a walk? To that riverside with the tree you like."
"No."
Leila answered almost before he could finish speaking.
"You used to go there every day, but suddenly you stopped. Why? Did you see something scary in the woods again?"
"It's not that. And anyway, I can't go into the woods today."
"Why? Oh, is it the Duke's hunting day?"
Leila pushed her notebook to the edge of the table and nodded. Soon after, the clamor of hooves began to approach.
"Wow. Amazing."
Kyle dashed to the window and marveled. The Duke of Herhardt and his party were passing by the path beside the cabin, heading into the forest. Beaters and hunting dogs led the way, followed by five young men on horseback.
Leila quietly peered out the window beside Kyle. Today, the Duke of Herhardt was riding a glossy dark bay horse. His red hunting jacket and gleaming shotgun stood out sharply.
"Of course, Leila, I don't hunt. Never have, never will."
Kyle, who had been exclaiming in awe, suddenly changed his expression. At that moment, the Duke of Herhardt turned his head toward the cabin. Though she was already hiding behind the curtain, Leila flinched and stepped back from the window.
For the past ten days, Leila had done her utmost to avoid him. She hadn't so much as set foot near the riverside, let alone the forest. Though she felt guilty toward Uncle Bill, she couldn't tend to the garden as diligently as before. She worked hard when the Duke was away and fled the garden the moment he returned.
She intended to endure the discomfort until the end of summer. By autumn, he would be engaged and leave for the capital, and Arvis would return to peace.
"Are you feeling unwell? Do you want to come to my house?"
Kyle studied Leila's complexion and asked worriedly.
"No, Kyle. I'm fine."
Leila shook her head slightly and returned to sit at the table.
"It'll be over by evening anyway."
Just as she nonchalantly opened a book, a gunshot rang out. The barking of hounds and the sound of galloping horses followed.
With bloodless hands that clenched and unclenched into fists, Leila turned the pages of the book she wasn't really reading.
It seemed she would have to go into the woods tonight after all. There would be many poor little birds to bury.