Chapter 43
Chapter 43
Translation: godsn
After swimming back, Matthias changed his clothes and stepped out of the annex. The sunset had deepened further, but Leila was still perched in that tree, crying. Just like before, she remained unaware of his presence.
Matthias came to a halt beneath the tree. It took Leila a long while before she finally turned her head and noticed him. Yet unlike earlier, she didn't startle or avert her gaze. There was no trace of fear or wariness in her demeanor.
Puzzled, Matthias soon realized why. Though Leila's eyes were directed toward him, she wasn't truly seeing him. Her vacant gaze seemed fixed on some distant place—perhaps where the departed doctor's son now resided.
Just as Matthias's lips began to twist wryly, Leila's eyes regained focus. The green irises that now reflected him quickly flooded with bewilderment. Her face stiffened, her shoulders hunched. This was the Leila Lewellin he knew.
Observing Leila's tear-streaked face, Matthias leisurely crossed his arms. It was a leisurely evening. There was no need to hurry, and thus no reason not to indulge this woman. When Leila's eyes flashed with unmistakable wariness—perhaps sensing he had no intention of leaving—her prickly attitude made Matthias smile.
"You know, Leila. He's not coming."
Matthias took another step toward the tree where Leila sat.
"Kyle Etman. The boy you're waiting for. Ah—should I say the boy who's left you now?"
Matthias smiled while staring directly into her eyes. Even as he uttered those cruel words, his voice remained soft and gentle.
Leila let out a hollow laugh. Turning her head, she saw only the evening sky, now emptied of birds. That swelling landscape soon became scalding tears streaming down her cheeks.
Without responding, Leila bit her lip as if chewing on it. If she waited for this cruel man to leave, night would fall before she could climb down from this tree.
Leila descended via the back of the tree, out of the Duke's line of sight. Dizzy from having shed too many tears, she thankfully managed to reach the ground without making a spectacle of herself.
Leaning against the tree, Leila hitched up her apron to wipe her damp face. She smoothed her disheveled hair and straightened her posture. Only then did she turn around. The Duke still stood blocking the path to her cabin.
Rather than skirting around him like a fugitive, Leila took step after deliberate step toward the Duke. Fresh tears had already begun soaking her face again, but she paid them no mind. If she couldn't hide them, she'd rather face him boldly. She refused to become mere amusement for that man.
"I apologize for my impropriety. Then I bid you good evening, Your Grace."
Stopping about two paces away, Leila bowed deeply with practiced courtesy. Meeting the nobles' expectations had become as effortless as breathing to her now.
"Leila."
Just as she brushed past him, the Duke called her name. Though startled, Leila didn't stop.
"Leila Lewellin."
Matthias uttered the name with what seemed like a scoff as he turned. Leila kept walking forward—just forward—as if she hadn't heard a thing.
As Matthias's eyes narrowed at this crossed-line provocation, the ghostly figure of Leila staggering ahead suddenly collapsed with a thud. Sprawled inelegantly on the ground, Leila couldn't seem to get up. Her small, hunched shoulders and back trembled intermittently.
Clicking his tongue briefly, Matthias slowly approached the crying Leila who'd fallen so disgracefully. This was the same stubborn girl—the Leila Lewellin who'd never lost that defiant glint in her eyes even when weeping uncontrollably, as if declaring she'd never yield—now broken down miserably, crying her heart out.
Matthias narrowed his eyes and knelt on one knee before Leila. As he picked up her fallen glasses, she finally lifted her head. The tears that had once amused him now brought no pleasure.
It took Matthias a moment too long to name the emotion stirring within him as he watched this woman weep for Kyle Etman. Humiliation. A feeling that had never existed in his world before.
"Stop crying."
Matthias gripped Leila's chin and issued the command in a low voice. She tried to turn her head away, but his grip was unyielding.
"Let me go!"
"Stop crying."
Even as Leila thrashed and resisted, Matthias remained calm, repeating the same command as before. With just one hand, he subdued her effortlessly.
"Shouldn't my tears bring you joy, Your Grace?"
Leila asked in disbelief. The humiliation of being trapped in his grasp made her tears grow thicker, hotter.
"Since when have you cared about my joy?"
Matthias laughed, even as Leila sobbed despairingly right before his eyes.
"You hate it when I'm happy."
"No."
Straining to hold back her tears, Leila weakly shook her head within his grasp.
"Whether Your Grace is happy or not has nothing to do with me. Just as my tears have nothing to do with you."
"What a shame, Leila. I do care."
Matthias tilted his head slightly.
"Stop crying."
Back to square one. His expression as he looked at her was almost gentle now.
"Do I need your permission to shed my own tears?"
Leila let out a disbelieving laugh.
"Perhaps?"
"Why should you? You have no right."
"Right, you say..."
"Just because you own Arvis doesn't mean you own me."
"Is that so?"
Matthias frowned briefly before his smile returned.
"Then shall I claim you now?"
In an instant, his smile vanished, leaving his face utterly devoid of emotion. The terror of that expression—like the surface of water on a windless day—made Leila's lips tremble.
"So I can be your master."
Matthias's fingertips brushed her lips. The touch resurrected memories of last summer, sending a shudder through her. The burning grief of losing Kyle suddenly froze over.
"...I don't want it."
Unable to endure the sight of herself sprawled at the Duke's feet any longer, Leila mustered all her strength to rise. Matthias released her as casually as a child discarding a toy that no longer amused him.
Standing in his shadow, Leila staggered to her feet. Though covered in dust and tears, her eyes had regained their fire.
"I despise you, Your Grace. I despise your absurd actions—despite your betrothal—I despise all of this."
"And?"
Matthias toyed idly with the loosely held glasses.
"What does your heart have to do with me?"
His voice held no malice, only detached curiosity.
"Because I want it."
If he wanted it, he would take it. That was all. And Matthias wanted Leila Lewellin. So he would have her. He had to possess her to discard her, and he had to discard her to make his life whole again.
Wordlessly, he placed the glasses back onto Leila's dazed face.
"Go."
The moment his hand withdrew, Leila collapsed back onto the ground.
Matthias stood over her for a while longer before leisurely walking away, as if enjoying a stroll. Even after he had disappeared from sight, Leila remained there for a long time.
"Leila! Leila! Come here, quick!"
When she finally returned to the cabin, Bill Remmer's voice was unusually excited.
Leila approached Bill, who was sitting on the porch with a smile on his face. She knew she couldn't fool the old man by grinning like this when she was such a mess inside, but she still didn't want to wear the face of a crying fool.
"What's the matter, Uncle?"
"A telegram came. For you."
"A telegram?"
Tilting her head, Leila took the telegram Bill handed her. It was news that a teaching position had opened up at a village school not too far from Arvis. Starting next semester, she could commute there instead of to the neighboring city.
"But I was told there were no openings in Carlsbar..."
Though it was good news, Leila felt oddly dazed. Bill raised his large hand and gently stroked her head.
"I wasn't happy about sending you far away, so I can't tell you how relieved I am that this stroke of luck came along, Leila."
Meeting Bill's relieved gaze, Leila nodded and smiled. Just as Uncle Bill said, this was good fortune. She had planned to return to his side every weekend even if she had to board near the school in the neighboring city, but her heart had still felt hollow.
But...
The Duke's face, lingering in her mind, kept her from fully rejoicing. She didn't want to leave Uncle Bill, yet she wanted to flee from the Duke. What a foolish contradiction.
"Is something else wrong, Leila?"
Bill asked cautiously. Only then did Leila realize her expression had stiffened.
"No."
Moonlight spilled over Leila's smiling face once more.
"It's just... I'm a little dazed by such unexpected luck."
"Is that so?"
"Yes."
As she nodded, Leila's smile brightened slightly.
"You must be hungry, Uncle. Let's have a nice dinner."
The bedroom curtain, half-drawn over the open window, billowed up in the night breeze before slowly settling back down, repeating the motion like the quiet melody of a piano piece flowing through the air. The music was exquisitely delicate and ornate, almost to the point of sounding neurotic.
Matthias, holding silver scissors and a handkerchief, leaned back in the chair by the window. With a flick of his finger, the canary fluttered over and perched on his hand. Whether its song was a kind of training or not, the bird had grown steadily more beautiful in its singing.
Matthias watched the canary with a faint smile as it sang in harmony with the piano's melody. The small creature, covered in soft feathers, swayed its body this way and that before tilting its head as if deep in thought.
When the clear song ended, Matthias gently wrapped the bird in the handkerchief he had brought.
The aviary keeper always covered the birds' eyes before trimming their wings. It was so they wouldn't know who had cut their feathers—because if they knew, they would fear that person.
The bird yielded obediently as Matthias deftly spread and held its wing.
At first, he had left the task to the keeper, but by now, trimming grown feathers was something he could manage with ease.
The first few times, he had cut too short, drawing blood. Thankfully, it was never a serious bleed, but seeing golden wings stained red was hardly a pleasant sight. Disliking that, Matthias had grown more careful.
After checking which feathers to trim, he picked up the scissors resting on his lap. The clipped feathers scattered as the sharp blades passed through, fluttering down like dancers onto Matthias's polished shoes.
Once he had trimmed the other wing, Matthias removed the handkerchief covering the bird's eyes. The canary flapped its newly shortened wings a few times before hopping onto his finger.
As if nothing had happened, the canary began to sing again. A beautiful song.