The Devil's Permission
"Theo."
"Theodore."
The memories that had momentarily overlapped vanished in an instant.
Olivia was looking at him with eyes full of surprise. It was strange to be called "Theodore" rather than by her nickname. They hadn't met since they parted ways in childhood; there was no relationship left between them that would warrant calling each other "Theo" and "Via."
The two stood there for a moment, staring at each other in silence. Theodore couldn't fathom why she was looking at him with such a complex expression—sad, pained... and yet, joyful.
And he couldn't understand why he didn't just turn around and leave.
There was nothing to discuss with Olivia. It would be cleaner to handle the inheritance issues through the Marquis of Asensio and their lawyers. Yet, he couldn't turn his back on her. He couldn't even tear his gaze away.
She had grown into exactly the woman he had imagined. She was slender and pale enough to be held in a single arm, and the features on her small face were like lilies.
Her sorrowful, turquoise eyes were moist. Assuming it was because of her father, he muttered involuntarily.
"You aren't crying."
Olivia brushed her long hair back with her fingers and replied.
"It's strange. People, no matter how much they suffer, find they cannot cry without end."
"Is that so?"
"Yes."
He assumed the suffering she spoke of was the grief of losing Pavel.
The conversation cut off, and for a while, they stared at each other again, speechless. They were neither in a position nor a relationship to share happy childhood stories, nor could they share the grief appropriate for a funeral.
A strange emotion passed between them. No, perhaps thinking it had passed was a delusion. What Olivia needed was comfort and mourning, and Theodore had no emotions to share with her. He couldn't afford to reveal a single shred of his feelings to her.
She didn't know what had frustrated him enough to make him run away from home. She didn't know about the unjust anger he had harbored toward his father.
Yes, it was unjust anger.
But he had no intention of revealing that to change the public's perception of his father. By writing of the marriage in his will, his father had proven his own innocence. Theodore didn't even know how that made him feel.
He turned to leave and said, "Don't go in too late."
Just as he decided to flee once again, Olivia took a step forward and called out to him.
"Theo."
It was the same nickname from their childhood. An inappropriate name.
Theodore ignored her. Olivia took another step closer and asked, "Do you still hate me?"
Recalling a conversation he had held in this very place long ago, he whispered in a low voice.
"Yes."
Now, the distance between them was close enough that if they reached out, they would touch. But that was the limit. Theodore thought there would be no further narrowing of that gap. He didn't want there to be.
He had resolved never to be swayed by this woman. The last ten years had been enough of falling into the mire, his footing constantly shifting.
The woman, who had no idea what kind of filthy thoughts had consumed him during those long years of self-loathing and denial, looked up at him with a clear, innocent face.
Her full lips parted slightly as if in hesitation, then closed again. Theodore watched every wrinkle of those lips as they curled inward and then pulled back out, as if she had bitten them from the inside. Her lips parted once more, revealing the soft, pale mucosa. The tongue peeking through her teeth looked as soft as that of a puppy or a kitten.
"But you..."
Olivia finally spoke. Theodore, who had been watching her lips and tongue, forgetting even to breathe, suddenly came to his senses and looked up.
She lowered her gaze as if to avoid his eyes. Her golden eyelashes shimmered, deflecting the moonlight.
"You... you can kiss me, can't you?"
It was an intonation that made it impossible to tell if it was a question or a confirmation.
In that moment, Theodore felt an explosive rage and passion simultaneously. Without even realizing it, he reached out and grabbed her arms.
The next moment, Olivia was already in his arms. He gripped her chin and the back of her head with his large hands, devouring her lips as if seizing them by force.
Her soft lips parted without resistance. Theodore pushed his hot tongue inside, licking and stirring the warm, moist interior of her mouth. He pulled her tongue, which seemed startled and hesitant, toward him, stealing her very breath.
He felt like he was going insane. No, perhaps he already was.
Can't you kiss me? Did she really not know that wasn't even a question? She didn't know why he had left—no, why he had fled—which was why she could approach him without fear and look at him with such a clean face.
Heat rose from where they touched, and the space between his thighs pulled taut. Her soft lips were like flower petals; he felt as if he were crushing them into a pulp. He felt a wretched, dirty sensation. In truth, he was the mire itself, and he couldn't even run away.
He would have felt better if she had resisted. If she had screamed and struggled like a madwoman when he kissed her, he would have regained his senses and let her go. Afterward, they could have returned to a proper relationship.
But Olivia, even while gasping for air, could only grab his sleeves. Theodore slid his hand from the back of her head down to her spine. He could feel the lines of her body through her indoor dress and gown. She was as thin and fragile as he had imagined.
"H-hnn."
A moan escaped Olivia's throat, unable to bear it. At that sound, he came to his senses.
Theodore forcibly held her up in his arms as she began to collapse. Their lips barely parted, but it only gave her room to breathe; his hot breath continued to pour into her mouth.
Olivia's face was flushed bright red, and blue tears welled in the corners of her eyes. Theodore looked into her eyes and wiped the tears away with his thumb before they could fall.
"Did you really ask because you were curious?"
"You can kiss me. So why don't you want to marry me?"
"Just because I can kiss you doesn't mean I'm a good marriage partner. If you knew what I wanted to do to you, you'd only want to run away."
"What do you want to do to me?"
"Why? Do you want to marry me? Because a Countess is better than a Count's foster daughter?"
Theodore couldn't distinguish whether what he felt was rage or lust. It was likely both.
He wanted to make her angry. He wanted to make her cry and run away. He was furious at her for not even guessing what he was enduring.
But despite his insults, Olivia only looked up at him with a calm, inscrutable face.
"I just want to know. How you think of me..."
The night air was chilly, but Theodore couldn't feel it at all. Heat surged, turning his vision red.
He had sworn that even if he coveted everything in the world, he would not desire this woman. He had wanted her enough to make such a vow necessary, and he had loathed himself for it.
In countless dreams, he had violated her. He had seen her smiling brightly like a sunflower, only to throw her to the ground and spread her legs while she wept and called out for her father.
And still, he desired her and loathed himself. Even if he said "no" now, it wouldn't be accepted. Because he had desired Olivia even back then. Even if she hadn't shared his blood, the fact that he had been committing a sin in his heart remained unchanged.
So, it would have been right to pretend this fatal mistake didn't exist and turn away, leaving her behind.
Olivia slowly raised her hand and placed it on his cheek. The whisper from her lips was as clear and fragrant as the scent of a lotus blooming on water.
"I am not the Count's daughter... and I am not your sister."
She wasn't trying to seduce him. But to Theodore, those words sounded like a devil's permission.
The will, the marriage—those thoughts vanished completely in that moment. The vows and the loathing were wiped clean.
As if he had lost his mind, he dove back into Olivia's lips. When Olivia seemed to lose her strength and began to collapse again, he sank down with her. And right there, he laid her on the floor.