Chapter 69
Chapter 69
Translation: godsn
"Promise......"
What roused Matthias from the lingering haze of muddy pleasure was Leila's faint whisper. Still buried inside her, when he lifted his head, he saw only those green eyes gazing solely at him. With the hand that had been gripping her hair painfully tight—now finally released—Matthias caressed Leila's still-flushed cheek.
"Mercy... the promise... you must......"
Understanding the meaning behind those words, gasped out between ragged breaths, Matthias let out a hollow chuckle. Even in this moment, it was strangely not unpleasant—this desperate, endearing woman. Whatever her purpose might be, those clear eyes filled with him were as beautiful as gemstones.
When Matthias remained silent, simply looking down at her, Leila struggled to lift her limp hand from the floor and tightly grasped his arm.
Her face looked as though she might burst into tears if he delayed any longer, so Matthias reluctantly nodded at that point. At this, Leila sighed and abruptly released him. Before her hand even touched the floor, her eyelids had already fluttered shut. All that remained was Matthias, still watching Leila.
Just once more.
Carrying an inexplicable desire within himself, Matthias continued to gaze at Leila for a long while. But nothing changed. The only thing he could find on Leila's face—her head turned away, eyes tightly shut—was stubborn refusal.
Chuckling softly again, Matthias seized Leila's hair once more and yanked it back with all his strength. Leila's frightened gaze, startled by the pain, clashed with Matthias's cold stare in a single point.
Matthias descended upon her lips like a sudden ambush.
It was a rather fair trade.
By the time she awoke from deep slumber, the entire room was already bathed in bright light.
Leila struggled to sit up, leaning against the headboard of the bed. She clung to the faint hope that it might have been just a nightmare, but the remnants of last night's traces and pain scattered across her body didn't allow even a moment of delusion.
Blankly, Leila surveyed her own disheveled state. She had collapsed into sleep exactly as she was upon returning from the Duke's annex. Though she desperately wanted to erase all traces of that man immediately, she didn't have the strength left to move even a fingertip. Last night, the best she could manage was making it back to the cabin without losing consciousness.
Looking down at her own body—covered in handprints, bloodstains, and marks she didn't even want to think about—Leila shuddered and rose from the bed. Her entire body ached as if it might shatter. The pain kept bringing back memories that made her eyes burn red.
It's nothing.
As she washed her body over and over, Leila forced herself to steady her mind.
In the end, it'll be nothing.
Because she knew it could never be so, Leila clung even more desperately to that self-deception. Thanks to that, by the time she changed clothes and sat at the dining table, she could maintain some composure.
Eat something, regain your strength, and go see Uncle Bill.
Focusing only on the immediate tasks before her, Leila scooped the food Mrs. Mona had brought onto her plate. Though it seemed impossible to swallow anything, she forced the food down bit by bit, washing it down with water. It was only after barely managing to finish the last piece of bread that she noticed the bundle of letters placed at the edge of the table.
Even as she picked it up, Leila's expression remained calm—but soon turned utterly blank. It was Kyle's letter. No matter how many times she checked, she couldn't believe it, but there was no mistaking Kyle's handwriting. Every single one was from Kyle.
For a while, Leila remained frozen, simply clutching the letters in her hands, before finally tearing open the topmost envelope with trembling fingers.
To my beloved Leila.
Kyle's first letter, sent at the beginning of last autumn, began like that.
"Thank you, Your Grace. Truly, I don't even know how to express my gratitude enough."
Bill Remmer bowed his head repeatedly, his face flushed red. Though he had grown noticeably haggard over the past few days, his eyes—now alight with renewed hope—shone brighter than ever.
"To show such mercy..."
His voice trailed off as his eyes reddened. Fortunately, by the time Leila entered the police station, he had regained his composure.
"Leila!"
Bill's booming voice echoed through the precinct. Every person inside—including Duke Herhardt and the lawyer who had come to secure Bill's pardon—turned their gaze toward Leila.
"Uncle! What in the world...?"
The overwhelming smile that had bloomed on Leila's face upon seeing Bill freed vanished the instant her eyes met Duke Herhardt's.
"Congratulations, Leila. His Grace has granted Mr. Remmer clemency," an officer said with a smile, stepping toward the rigid girl.
"Ah... yes."
Helpless, Leila looked at Matthias again. His gaze was detached, as if last night's memories had been wiped clean.
"...Thank you very much, Your Grace."
Suppressing the flood of emotions threatening to rise, Leila bowed deeply. Yet no matter how hard she tried, her hands trembled uncontrollably. Dry swallows caught in her throat, and her eyes wavered. She must have looked painfully awkward—but fortunately, no one seemed to notice.
Except for one person.
Duke Herhardt.
While the ducal lawyer and officers conversed, Matthias and Leila's eyes met again. This time, Leila stared back at him defiantly, lips pressed tight.
If you're going to act defiant, you should at least hide those shaking hands first.
His gaze flickered to her small, bloodless hands before he let out a short, incredulous scoff. Of course, the real reason he had taken the time to come here—instead of simply sending the lawyer—was this woman, Leila Lewellin. His insolent mistress.
By the time the annex had regained its silence, both Leila and Matthias were in disarray. His shirt was stained with blood, his cufflinks torn, his hair damp with sweat. Surveying the mess they had made on the floor, he let out a self-deprecating sigh as he pushed himself up.
Leila lay curled on the carpet, her stockings pooled around her knees, her shoes the only remnants of her attire still clinging to her body. The fireplace cast a quiet glow over her, the crackling of burning wood mingling with her ragged breaths.
After roughly straightening his clothes, Matthias sank into the sofa, watching her from above. It was a relief that she stubbornly kept her back turned—he didn't have to see her face.
Her long, tangled hair spilled over her bare shoulders and back. Beneath it, the pale skin of her thighs and buttocks bore the vivid marks of his grip and the traces of blood.
She bruises so easily.
And that, he found, pleased him quite a bit.
Matthias, who had been about to call out her name, changed his mind and instead reached for a cigarette with an uncharacteristically hurried motion. But the thought of actually lighting it never followed.
His gaze, which had slowly trailed down to the tips of Leila's toes, moved even more sluggishly back up to the crown of her head. Her utter stillness grated on his nerves. If he wanted to, he could have hauled her up with just one hand—but that wasn't what Matthias desired.
In the end, he crumpled the cigarette he'd been holding between his lips and tossed it into the ashtray. His own lack of patience, unable to endure even the short distance from the drawing room to the bedroom, made his brow furrow in self-disgust. Not that it would have changed much, but at least he wouldn't have had to suffer the filthy feeling of seeing her sprawled on the floor in such a wretched state.
He steeled himself to force her up, but in the end, Matthias couldn't bring himself to touch her. The mere sound of his footstep made Leila stiffen like ice. And yet, her stubborn refusal to turn around drew a silent, hollow laugh from him.
He flung his jacket—draped over the wingback chair—onto Leila's trembling form. She flinched violently but, true to form, didn't turn her head. At this point, it was hard to tell who was the one being trampled and humiliated.
Taking a deep breath to suppress his utterly ridiculous feelings, Matthias finally headed for the bathroom. Leila was infuriating, yes, but more than that, he was at a loss for what to do. The most absurd part was that, despite everything, he felt rather pleased and satisfied. By the time he finished his shower and stepped out, he even considered placating her. Which made the shock all the greater when he faced the empty drawing room.
Leila had run away on her own.
After searching every corner of the annex and failing to find her, Matthias had no choice but to accept that humiliating conclusion. A few torn blouse buttons, the soiled carpet, and a few strands of golden hair were the only traces Leila had left behind.
When he saw his jacket neatly hung back over the wingback chair, a crooked laugh escaped him. He could vividly picture Leila Lewellin—racing through the frozen winter forest at dawn, clutching the gaping front of her buttonless blouse. And the thought that she must have despised his presence enough to do so.
The reason Matthias hadn't chased after Leila last night was because he knew his patience had reached its limit. If he'd caught her again—well, he wouldn't have treated her kindly.
Now, with Leila standing before him, he was certain that decision had been the right one. Even after all this time, he still felt the same as he had that night—left utterly alone.
"You've made a truly momentous decision, Your Grace. Truly befitting the esteemed head of the Herhardt family, revered by all."
The officer's admiring words dragged Matthias back to reality.
After concluding the conversation with the appropriate humble response, Matthias left the police station. Bill Remmer and Leila, along with the officers, filed out after him. His waiting attendant and driver hurriedly stepped out of the carriage to greet their master.
"Your Grace, I will never forget this kindness until the day I die—no, not even after death. I mean it. I truly do."
Bill Remmer bowed his head once more.
"No need for that, Mr. Remmer."
With a composed response, Matthias briefly glanced at the girl standing beside the gardener. Leila looked back at him with eyes that sparkled prettily—though "glared" would have been far more accurate.
"We'll meet again at Arvis."
With that brief farewell, Matthias entered his carriage. Until the very last moment, Leila didn't offer even a single forced smile.
As he withdrew his gaze from the carriage window, Matthias's lips curved into a gentle arc.
He was absolutely determined to see that girl unravel completely before him.
"You mean we're staying here? How?"
Leila asked again in disbelief. Bill Remmer, unable to hide his joy, patted her head affectionately. The two of them, who had walked together from town, had now reached the path leading to Arvis's main gate.
"Thanks to the Duke's consideration."
"Huh?"
"He's allowing us to live in the hunting lodge cabin as before and continue working for Arvis."
"But..."
"Of course, I refused at first out of decency. How could I work as usual after causing such a disaster? But then the Duke said—wouldn't restoring the greenhouse I ruined to its former state be the greatest atonement? He said since I was the one who cultivated Arvis's paradise, I should be the one to restore it. And when I thought about it, he had a point."
Bill Remmer's eyes grew red at the memory of those moving words. The past few days, when he thought he'd be thrown in prison without question, had been pure hell. More than the fear of ruining his own life, the guilt of leaving Leila alone had tormented him endlessly.
"Will both ladies of the house agree?"
"Lady Dowager gladly consented, and the Duchess eventually agreed after the Duke persuaded her. Truly, all of this is thanks to the Duke—he's our benefactor, Leila."
Benefactor.
That word, so utterly mismatched with that cruel man, suddenly made Leila feel dizzy.
I must never let Uncle Bill notice.
She repeated this resolve to steady herself, but she couldn't calm her wildly beating heart.
"After dedicating decades of my life here, Arvis's gardens and greenhouse feel like part of my own body. The thought that I was the one who destroyed them would have left an indelible guilt. But if I can restore the greenhouse to its former state, at least that heaviest burden will be lifted. And it's also a way to repay this immense kindness."
"...Yes, Uncle."
Leila gave a short reply, unable to hide the tremor in her voice.
"So Leila, don't torment yourself anymore. For your sake, I'll be careful—extra careful—and do even better than before."
Bill Remmer, stopping before Arvis's main gate, gently squeezed Leila's shoulder. His once-haggard face now brimmed with renewed vitality.
"Bill! You're really back!"
Servants who had been waiting upon hearing news of Bill's return came swarming over. Grateful for the momentary distraction, Leila stared blankly at Arvis's exquisitely crafted iron gates.
Within her dazed eyes, the golden crest shimmered brilliantly.