Scar
Scar
It was a spring day when the warm sunlight gently embraced the garden of the Count Rivan estate.
The surface of the pond was still, without a single breath of wind, and the petals that had just begun to bloom held the colors of pale pink and light yellow under the sunlight.
It was a peaceful scene, but the world beneath the lush thicket at the edge of the garden was a bit different.
Young Adam was huddled in that corner, as he always was.
Not in the center of the magnificent garden, but in a shaded spot where people's eyes did not reach.
In his hand was a small twig, and the dirt floor already bore the marks of being dug up several times by fingernails and sticks.
His gaze was focused on a small hole he had dug into the earth.
After a moment, black dots came crawling out of the hole in a swarm.
Ants.
The corners of Adam's mouth twitched upward ever so slightly.
He used the stick to poke one of the ants.
As its body flipped over, its tiny legs flailed in the air.
He stared at that movement for a long time before picking it up with his fingers.
Placing it between his thumb and index finger and applying a bit of pressure, the body burst with a ttak sound.
The next one was a bit more delicate.
He caught another ant and tore off its legs one by one.
The sensation of snapping, the minute resistance, and the helpless squirming of the remaining torso at the end.
Adam repeated this like a game.
When he felt more excited, he would rummage through the bushes to find grasshoppers.
Holding an insect with a green body and transparent wings in his hand, he would pull off its legs one by one.
The insect twisted its body, scratching the air with its remaining legs, but it didn't last long.
To him, this wasn't cruelty.
It was simply the process of things becoming quiet.
It was like a ritual to gradually settle something that was crouching deep within his chest.
A twisted release, permitted only here where no one watched him.
Feeling that he had played enough, Adam stood up.
His hands were matted with dirt and the remains of insects.
He walked nonchalantly to the edge of the pond and dipped his hands in.
The cold water washed away the reddish tint and brown stains, but faint traces still remained under his fingernails and between the creases of his palms.
After roughly shaking off the water, he entered the mansion.
Adam walked toward his room with his head bowed, as he always did.
But the moment he turned the corner...
He collided head-on with something solid.
"Kyaak!"
A short scream rang out.
Both lost their balance at the same time and tumbled to the floor.
Adam fell on his back, and the hem of a red dress flashed through his vision.
It was Erica Riban.
An attendant rushed over and helped her up.
"A-Ah, Agassi! Are you alright?"
Erica frowned as she brushed herself off.
Then, her gaze fixed on the hem of her dress.
A light brown stain and some unknown debris.
It was the mark left by the moisture and dirt remaining on Adam's hands.
In an instant, her expression changed drastically.
The speed at which her anger spread was fast.
Her eyes flashed and then sank coldly.
"......Get up."
The words fell low, yet like an absolute command.
Adam, who had been lying face down on the floor, flinched and picked himself up.
His hesitant posture as he stood was already shrunken with fear.
In the next moment, Erica's right hand swung like a whip.
Jjaak-!!
A powerful impact struck Adam's left cheek.
His head snapped to the side.
A pain that felt like it would stop his breath spread through him.
Erica's left hand rose quickly.
This time, her palm flew toward Adam's other cheek, the right side.
However, because Adam had stumbled, the angle and distance were off.
Her sharply manicured nails grazed under Adam's ear, deeply gouging his neck.
The sensation of flesh tearing and a stinging pain exploded a beat later.
His skin split as if a red line were being drawn, and blood immediately began to seep out.
The warm liquid flowed down his neckline.
"You vermin-like bastard. I told you not to get in my way. Just try fluttering around in front of my eyes one more time. I'll seriously kill you."
She straightened her stained dress and walked past Adam just like that.
The attendants followed, surrounding her.
No one looked back at the boy standing on the floor.
"...."
The hallway became quiet again.
Adam stood there dazed.
He slowly looked down at the hand that had covered his neck.
Red blood was pooling thickly on his palm.
He stared at it for a while.
Before the pain, a strange sensation seeped in.
It's warm.
The blood flowing between his fingers looked exceptionally vivid.
The corners of his mouth moved very, very slightly.
Though it was a deep cut, Adam did not stop by the infirmary to treat it.
He simply waited until the blood stopped on its own, and the trace of that day was vividly engraved as a linear scar on the flesh of his neck under his ear.
**
In the middle of the commotion at the exhibition hall, Iden, looking down at Erica who had collapsed on the marble floor, swallowed a short sigh.
People were buzzing, and several noble ladies were covering their mouths with their fans, looking shocked.
What wasn't good was that on top of the provocative situation of 'The Count and the Lady's Secret Room,' the scene of a 'Fallen Young Lady' returning from said secret room had been added.
And regardless of the circumstances.
Because he had instinctively dodged, she had lost her balance and hit her head.
Whatever the intention, the result was the result.
"I'll be back."
After speaking lowly to Erwin Vermir, he leaned down and lifted Erica up.
The hem of her red dress flowed over his arm, and a rich perfume brushed the tip of his nose.
Momentarily, his entire body had a rejection response.
His muscles stiffened subtly, and his arms felt heavy as if frozen.
'....'
Iden grit his teeth and moved his feet.
It wasn't that far to the infirmary at the back of the exhibition hall, but every step felt strangely creaky.
His shoulder muscles were tense, and his heart was beating faster than necessary. A discomfort, perhaps an instinct engraved in his veins, crawled up his spine.
Meanwhile.
Erica, who was cradled in his arms with her head hanging, thought while keeping her eyes closed and her breathing steady.
'It does hurt a little...'
The side of her head throbbed, and her shoulder and hip ached from the impact of hitting the floor.
However, the emotion that rose above all that pain was close to satisfaction.
As a result, success.
The method of stimulating the protective instinct.
It was a law proven countless times in social circles that the stronger a man is, the weaker he becomes toward a woman showing a fragile side.
The confession in the secret room wasn't accepted, but now that she had shown a broken appearance, there was a possibility the story would change.
The corners of her mouth rose very slightly.
Of course, on the outside, she didn't move an inch.
Erica carefully opened her eyes into thin slits.
Because of the posture and angle she was being held in, her narrow gaze naturally scanned his jawline and neckline.
The Adam's apple, a symbol of masculinity, protruded out, and thick tendons and a sharp jawline were visible.
Gulp.
She swallowed her saliva involuntarily.
It was her first time being held in a man's arms like this, and it was also her first time being close enough to smell his scent.
Now that she had a clear goal and target, she was in a state of boldness that surprised even herself.
Then, her gaze stopped.
A vivid, straight scar starting from under the ear and running long down the neck.
At first, she didn't think much of it.
Since they said he was a mercenary, if he had roamed the battlefields, a scar or two was only natural.
In fact, she had heard that such wounds were often regarded like medals of valor.
But for a very brief moment, she felt her heart drop.
A dusty memory stirred somewhere in her mind.
A scene came to mind where a maid had once carefully bowed her head and spoke.
"I heard that a scar... has formed on the youngest Doryeon-nim's neck."
She remembered the hallway on a spring day when her dress got stained, and the anger that surged like crazy immediately after.
And the eerie sensation of her fingernails gouging flesh came back to her.
That was the first time she had slapped her own kin with all her might until he bled.
Before then, it was just enough to redden his cheek, but that day was different.
The angle and distance of her hand on the second swing were off, her nails dug in deep, and the thin skin tore.
Quite a bit of blood had flowed.
Of course, she hadn't been flustered, nor had she felt a shred of pity for him.
He was a guy who deserved to be hit.
The only reason she told the maid to check was because she was afraid her violence would be revealed and her dignity as a noble Young Lady would be questioned.
Of course, the family stayed quiet, and no scandal ever arose.
A few days later, she had seen the bastard's scar as they passed each other in the hallway.
The line that led down from under his ear.
That time and the scar before her eyes now were strangely similar.
Erica's heart rate quickened subtly.
'...No way.'
It made no sense.
He was a child with a gaunt face, gloomy eyes, and a hunched posture.
There was a useless youngest child who was a presence that didn't stand out in anything, treated as if he didn't even exist even within the family.
But this man now.
The hero of the North.
The Grand Duke's man.
The Special Task Force leader.
And the Head of the Count's house.
Appearance, physique, atmosphere—everything was different.
Erica bit her lip slightly.
The sensation at the tips of her nails in her memory vividly came back to life.
The resistance when gouging the flesh and the memories of washing under her fingernails for dozens of minutes lest a trace of blood remain.
Her gaze traced that scar once more.
...It was too accurate.
'Stop bullshitting.'
Erica closed her eyes tightly again.
No.
Absolutely not.
It was an absurd joke.
She suppressed her pounding heart.
It was just a coincidentally similar scar.
Concluding as such, she closed her eyes again as if she knew nothing.
However, her mind began to continue the calculations on its own.
Hair and pupil color that resembled her own.
The use of the special technique called Summoning.
Above all.
The reason why her honey trap had failed so decisively was beginning to make sense.
Erica's brow furrowed involuntarily.
'Seriously, there's a limit to how much bullshit one can take.'
Despite that, her breathing quickened.
Her jaw muscles twitched as she grit her teeth.
'That piece of shit changed into a different person in three years and became the Head of the Count's house? Even a novel would get fucking trashed if it were written like that, seriously.'
Never.
By no means.
Absolutely.
Even if the sky split in two.
Even if day and night were reversed.
Even if the day came when the seawater completely dried up, it was impossible.
It would be an insult just to put that disgusting guy's name in the same sentence as this great man.
To think she was being held against his skin right now?
Don't make me laugh, really.
Your imagination is going too far, Erica.
Pishik.
When her thoughts reached that point, Erica Riban couldn't help but let out a scoff.
It was truly a scoff that burst out unconsciously because it was so absurd...
Immediately after, it was only natural for Iden's steps to stop.
"......."