Chapter 23
Chapter 23
Translation: godsn
Every time Leila struggled, Matthias overpowered her, and the more his restraints intensified, the more desperately she resisted.
Each time Leila opened her tightly shut eyes—eyes that had seemed dead—the scenery that filled her vision changed.
Trembling leaves and the sky, and Matthias.
The dirt ground flickering with the shadows of leaves, and Matthias again.
White clouds of dust rose and swirled, enveloping the two of them as they tumbled together. Their fierce, desperate kiss looked more like a battle than anything else.
At some point, Leila could no longer even comprehend what she was doing. There was only the terror of being unable to breathe and the desperation to gasp for air. But the Duke's assault—sucking at her lips and tangling his tongue—only grew more relentless. It felt as though she were prey being devoured alive by a predator.
Leila's consciousness, which had been gasping and sobbing, flared back to life the moment Matthias's lips touched the nape of her neck. The buttons of her blouse had already been torn off, leaving it gaping open enough to expose her collarbone.
As Matthias's lips persistently teased the pulsing spot on her neck, his hands—which had been roaming up her thighs and waist—suddenly seized her heaving chest.
"Ah—!"
Leila thrashed violently enough to make her dizzy, yanking at Matthias's shirt. The buttons of his torn shirt soon popped off and scattered across the ground. Red marks stood out vividly where her nails had raked across the nape of his neck. At the same time, the crimson traces left by his lips were etched onto her collarbone.
When his lips began moving downward from her collarbone, Leila burst into tears. She didn't understand. She couldn't comprehend any of this, and that terrified her beyond measure. Matthias's heat, the hands roaming her body, these shameful and unfamiliar sensations.
Fortunately, he didn't go any further. Supporting himself on one arm, Matthias tilted his head and looked down at Leila. It was then that she opened her tightly shut eyes.
Though his breathing was still ragged, Matthias's eyes didn't look like those of a man consumed by lust. They were as deep and calm as the day he had silently crushed the coin she dropped, as tranquil as the moment he had casually shot down a bird.
The humiliation of that realization made Leila's face burn even hotter. Matthias, who had been quietly observing even that reaction, slowly opened his eyes—even more languidly than he had closed them. As his breathing steadied slightly, the restless bob of his Adam's apple stilled.
The wind from the forest tousled Leila's already disheveled hair, sending golden waves fluttering. Staring at those shimmering strands, Matthias let the handful of dirt he had been clutching trickle slowly from his fingers. Then he pushed himself off Leila and slumped onto the ground. He took his time surveying the scene—the woman lying under the tree shade, sniffling; the yard where well-dried laundry flapped in the breeze; the old cabin; and himself, sitting there in this absurd world, his appearance utterly ruined.
Matthias let out a low chuckle and swept back the hair that had fallen over his forehead. Leila was curled into a ball now, trying to steady her breathing. Seeing her trembling, covered in dust, only made his laughter grow more hollow.
Just you.
Matthias exhaled a long sigh, wiping away his mirth, then slowly rubbed his damp lips with the back of his hand. A faint smear of blood came away.
Nothing. Just someone like you...
When he turned his gaze back, Leila had already scrambled away on all fours to the base of the tree. She clutched a branch she had picked up in her shaking hands, gripping it tightly as she glared at him. Tears still welled in her wide eyes, spilling over in droplets.
Matthias averted his gaze from the woman making such a pitiful display and slowly rose to his feet. His expression grew distant and eerily calm as he looked down at the hand that had just clutched a handful of scorching earth.
You'll never know. That with this hand... I truly wanted to strangle your slender neck.
Picking up his jacket, Matthias turned away—without hesitation, without hurry.
Summer in Berg is fleeting. Before long, a cool wind would blow, and the seasons would shift as if lying.
Matthias knew this all too well.
Only after Duke Herhardt's figure had completely disappeared from view could Leila finally pull herself up.
Putting on the glasses she'd picked up, she staggered unsteadily toward the cabin. Her legs still trembling, she had to pause repeatedly, swaying and catching her breath over and over.
I should have just fallen to the ground instead.
A surge of bitter regret welled up, and hot tears gushed forth. No matter how hard she scrubbed with the back of her hand or the hem of her apron, the dreadful sensations lingering on her lips refused to fade.
When she finally reached the water pump, Leila worked the handle with all her might. The cold water, unable to withstand the pressure, splashed out of the bucket and soaked her clothes, but she paid it no mind.
"...No."
She muttered the denial without even knowing what she was denying.
No. No. No.
As she shook her head and repeated the word, her breathing grew erratic again. By the time the bucket was full, her hands were trembling violently.
Clutching her shaking hands, Leila glanced around with restless eyes, as if something were chasing her. Everything remained unchanged—the cabin of Uncle Bill, the place she loved more than anything, the coziest spot in the world.
Leaves rippled in the wind, and birds sang. Beneath the golden sunlight of the approaching dusk, the forest looked simply beautiful and serene. But Leila's heart still pounded anxiously. Just as she didn't know what she was denying, she couldn't pinpoint what she feared—only that she had to escape it.
Removing her glasses, Leila washed her face again and again with the bucketful of water. She scrubbed the red marks mottling her neck, rinsed her ears. Yet the sensations the man had left behind remained vivid.
Staring blankly at the sky, Leila suddenly gritted her teeth and lifted the bucket. Tipping the icy water over her head from top to bottom, her body shuddered as if struck by a chill.
Even then, the stubborn memories clung, making her recoil in disgust. Shivering uncontrollably, she pumped more water. This time, she scooped up handfuls and rinsed her mouth thoroughly.
Ptui.
She thought spitting out the water would purge the memories too. But why did that strange, revolting incident keep resurfacing?
Ptui, ptui, ptui.
Rinsing her mouth incessantly, she accidentally swallowed some of the water.
Choking and coughing, sniffling, Leila pumped yet another bucketful.
Strolling leisurely through the garden as if on a casual walk, Matthias paused at the boundary where the rose beds met the marble stairs leading to the mansion.
Dusting himself off did little to erase the traces. Not that it mattered. The real problem was the memory. With each step away from her, it only grew sharper.
Holding Leila in his arms had obliterated all rational thought. There had been nothing but a hunger-like craving to possess her—as if he'd turned into some rutting beast.
Matthias bit his lip and swept back the hair that had fallen over his forehead.
I'd rather see the end of this wretched desire. It was meaningless, hollow, and ultimately trivial anyway. If only Leila, who knew shockingly little, hadn't wept. If only he could have tolerated himself—reduced to such base frenzy over a woman like her. Maybe then...
Lifting his head, the mansion stood bathed in the golden afternoon light. And when he slowly turned to look back, the forest beyond the garden seemed like a silent, empty world. A place of nothingness—just nothing.
A trivial fascination and lust for a beautiful woman. As if erasing the pitiful, worthless thing that was himself—so laughably shaken by something so insignificant—Matthias slowly closed his eyes. Then, opening them again, he seized a rose in full bloom as if to crush it.
The scent of the flower, thick and vivid, rose from his clenched fist. It smelled like her.
He crushed it. Mangled it. Discarded it.
In that slow, repeated motion, torn and crumpled petals scattered chaotically at his feet. And with them, memories of the girl who once wandered this garden surfaced one by one.
Every time he returned to Arvis, the child had grown a little more without fail. The scenery where that child dwelled was always in full bloom with roses. A quiet snowfall came. The seasons repeated, and the time when the child grew into a woman passed through his mind like a series of continuous scenes.
But in the end, it was all meaningless.
Matthias wiped his lips with his rose-scented hand and strode over the crushed petals. As dusk approached, a cool breeze began to blow—a wind that foretold the end of summer.
Not once did he look back as he ascended the stairs and stepped into the mansion's bright light.
The western sky, where the sun had set, now bore a deep violet hue.
Though the gradually spreading darkness dyed the room, Kyle did not light a lamp. He remained deeply slouched in the chair by the window, watching the ever-changing sky.
Ever since returning from the cabin at Arvis, Kyle had kept to this spot. When not wearing his usual playful smile, his gray eyes carried a rather chilly air.
He and Leila had eaten lunch together as if nothing were amiss. Since she was trying so hard to act as usual, Kyle had obliged. But he knew. That moment was nothing like usual, and if he didn't find an answer, he would eventually lose Leila.
Kyle dragged his hands down his face as if washing it dry.
Leila had said she wanted to remain good friends for a long, long time. That to do so, they had to grow apart. He understood now what those words truly meant. But Kyle thought differently. He would stay by her side for a long, long time—but he had no intention of remaining just a good friend.
So he could delay no longer.
Once the conclusion settled, Kyle rose decisively from his seat. The feelings he had hidden, not wanting to ruin these good days with Leila—it was time to lay them bare now.
Taking a deep breath, Kyle opened the door and trudged down the hallway. A faint light spilled from his father's study. Standing before the door, he straightened his appearance and took another steadying breath.
He knew exactly what the noble young ladies his mother had introduced at the Duke's party signified. Though he couldn't comprehend his mother already thinking of engagements or marriage, today, he was oddly grateful for her meddling.
I'll never lose you. I won't let us drift apart. How could we ever?
Recalling the words he had spoken to Leila, Kyle knocked firmly.
"Father, it's me."
"Come in, Kyle."
His father's voice from beyond the door was as warm and kind as ever. Encouraged by that, Kyle slowly opened the study door. Dr. Etman, seated at his desk, greeted his son with a gentle smile.
Instead of slumping into the chair opposite the desk as usual, Kyle stood straight before his father.
"I have something to tell you, Father."
"Seeing you so unlike yourself, it must be quite serious?"
"Yes."
Kyle clenched his fists tightly to muster courage.
It was something he would have had to say sooner or later anyway.
Swallowing dryly, he steeled himself.
Next year, he would leave for the capital to attend university. And Leila would remain in this city to become a teacher.
For a long time, Kyle had struggled to accept that fact—that a day would come when Kyle Etman would no longer be by Leila Lewellin's side. And so he had wondered—What if we went to university together? What if we studied there, you becoming a scientist who researches birds, and me a doctor? And what if we lived together for the rest of our lives, just as we have until now? As friends, as lovers, and as family.
"Mother seems to be thinking about my marriage now."
At Kyle's words, Dr. Etman let out an amused laugh.
"Your mother did get a bit ahead of herself that day. Don't let it weigh on you, Kyle. I understand her feelings, but I think differently. There's no need to rush."
"No, Father."
Kyle met his father's gaze with resolute eyes.
"I want to think about marriage too."
"Marriage? You, Kyle?"
Wrinkles slowly formed at the corners of Dr. Etman's eyes as he regarded his son.
"Yes."
Kyle answered with a heart that felt oddly lighter.
"I want to marry Leila and go to university with her, Father."