Chapter 14
Chapter 14
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 14
Chapter Title: Waking from the Nightmare
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In her half-awake, languid gaze, Dever's hand withdrew.
Beth blinked slowly, her eyes fixed upward on the man's hand pulling away from her cheek, the shoulder it was attached to, and the gaze locked solely on her. Fresh morning birdsong filtered in from beyond the closed window.
Was it a dream?
The hellish ordeal of the early dawn felt like a fleeting nightmare. No, even more dreamlike was the fact that this man had been stroking her cheek while she slept.
She lifted her aching arm and twisted her hand this way and that. Lacking the energy to sit up, she wiggled her toes while still lying down. Everything moved at her command.
Beth stared blankly at the bloodstains splattered on the ceiling. Fragmented memory shards swirled chaotically in her mind.
The gun barrel aimed at the lieutenant's jaw, the trigger pulled almost reflexively. A metallic tang spread in her mouth, and she instinctively knew she was alive. But soon, excruciating pain sent her crashing to the floor.
She must have been hit somewhere.
Beth's hand moved to her face this time. Even as she felt the rough skin, there wasn't a single bandage.
Dever watched her probing actions silently, as if confirming something. He looked ridiculous perched on the edge of the bed, standing awkwardly at her feet like when he'd run into Madam Molly at the door.
As she turned her head to look at him, a groan escaped Beth's lips. Touching her throat, her fingers met thick gauze and adhesive tape.
Just as she thought. She'd vaguely heard two gunshots. One must have hit her.
She had so many questions.
Was the spy dead? What was her condition? But of all people, the first face she saw upon waking was this man's.
She wanted to ask for someone else, but carefully turning her head in search of paper and pen, she found the isolation room barren, without even a bedside table.
"There was a sniper."
His calm voice shattered the silence.
Beth felt a sigh rise through her stinging throat. If she could, she'd scream at him to get out, but right now, she didn't even have the strength to sit.
In that moment when the spy had brutally gripped her throat, the terror of violence she'd buried deep in her memories had surged forth like a tidal wave.
Familiar, perhaps: the rage-filled whispers, ragged breaths, the oppressive force pressing against her skin. The helplessness of watching a young soldier tremble and flee from the spy's threats.
In that instant, filled only with the desperate urge to live and escape.
When she saw Dever again, she'd felt relief. In her horrific past, no one had ever come to save her. Maybe that's why she'd harbored hope. That this man would save her.
'Kill that woman.'
'Shoot.'
Cold orders spat out as if mocking her futile hope.
"It took the sniper time to climb up to the window."
These words now weren't excuses. To this man, even lives were part of the plan.
"I was trying to save you—"
Beth squeezed her eyes shut.
If she couldn't speak, at least spare her from hearing words she didn't want to hear. She resented God. There was no other way. She couldn't resent Duke Dever.
He wasn't a merciful god who would accept her resentment.
Dever's mouth closed, the words 'It wasn't that I didn't want to save you' left unsaid. The woman's tightly shut eyes, rimmed red and trembling visibly, told him his vague hunch was right: she didn't even want to look at him.
A suffocating hopelessness, one he'd never felt before, washed over him.
He'd barged in without any plan to begin with. He'd never considered how to act in front of a woman who loathed the sight of him. Beth had unwittingly outmaneuvered Dever—obsessed with control and planning—multiple times already.
Irritation surged, and Dever's throat bobbed heavily.
He had clearly tried to save Beth. From the start, the hostage dying wasn't part of any scenario. But when she acted like this, it made him feel like he'd truly done something wrong.
Did she ever even trust me to begin with?
"If you'd stayed still, you wouldn't have gotten hurt again."
The words that came out instead of his unaskable question felt pathetically inadequate.
"Why do you keep getting involved?"
He noticed the fresh bandage wrapped around her hand. Somehow, since they'd met, every time she was around him, she ended up with new wounds. And that twisted at Dever's gut even more.
Beth's eyes snapped open, glaring at Dever as moisture gathered at the corners. If she hadn't twisted free from the lieutenant's grasp with her last strength, the spy's bullet might have pierced her temple before the sniper's did.
She never wanted to cry in front of this man again.
Beth bit the soft flesh inside her mouth until it hurt. If blood would come instead of tears, she'd let it flow freely.
She raised her hand and pointed to the door.
"Get out?"
Everything felt ridiculous, tiresome. A faint crack appeared on the noble duke's lofty face as he looked down at her. Get out, her rasping voice implied, laced with incredulous laughter.
Beth didn't care if he was shocked or angry. She just didn't want to be alone with him here, where the dawn's memories were still vivid.
She didn't want to hear any more excuses or explanations from his mouth. As he'd said, she'd just stay out of anything involving him from now on.
Like that first day when they didn't know each other.
Just as everyone avoided Dever Cliff, she'd avoid him too.
As the man's lips parted as if to speak, a knock sounded, followed by a welcome voice.
"Beth."
Aines peeked her face in, whispering Beth's name. Having already spotted the duke through the window, an awkward greeting followed.
"I came to check on Beth. I hope you've been well through the night, Your Grace."
The moment the words left her mouth, Aines bit her lip in regret.
After the chaos at the hospital that dawn, asking the duke at its center if he'd had a peaceful night? It was a slip from her ingrained politeness.
Dever's gaze flicked back to Beth. The woman's stubborn face, staring into space, radiated a resolve to not even glance at his collar anymore.
Aines was the one flustered in between. The poor girl thought Dever was angry at her slip-up. In truth, Dever hadn't even registered what she'd said.
"Yes. Thank you for your hard work through the night, my lady. Then."
Unable to talk more with Beth anyway, Dever politely ended the greeting and left the room.
"Fancy meeting you here, Your Grace."
Blocking his path unexpectedly was Raphaelle.
"Yes. Then."
As Dever sidestepped her, Raphaelle's footsteps lightly matched his. Only after blocking him again did her gaze fully fix on him, though displeasure flickered, her smile unwavering.
"It's a shame about what happened to Beth."
When she'd glimpsed through the window earlier, she'd only seen Dever's back, but some emotion had been palpable. She couldn't discern its shape, though.
But his face now was no different from looking at an ordinary soldier.
Arrogant bastard.
Raphaelle inwardly cursed as she scanned Dever's disheveled state. When mocking someone inaudibly, she always smiled more radiantly.
"I know you deliberately made the situation harder to save Beth. Even if no one else realizes it."
Dever waited silently for her to finish. He couldn't interrupt a princess.
"Are you done?"
"Don't take it to heart. I'll convey your feelings to Beth properly. She's become a good friend of mine here."
Raphaelle's eyes drifted to the bloodstained shirt on the otherwise impeccable man. She pictured the duke rushing over in a panic, worried that lowly girl might be hurt.
Raphaelle caught her lip from curling into a smirk.
"You can go now. I need to see Beth too."
Raphaelle nodded and entered the room. With a click, the door shut, silence settling the hallway. Only then did Dever slowly start walking.
"Beth, are you really okay?"
Even after hearing from Madam Molly and checking the charts, Aines's worry wouldn't stop. Raphaelle watched their tearful reunion from afar.
"When I saw you collapse, I thought I was going to faint. Dixie's eyes are so swollen she can barely open them while working."
The bandaged hand gently patted Aines's shoulder.
"Times like this really make me want to run away to Wayne."
Aines mumbled in a voice thick with tears.
Beth soothed her friend, deliberately ignoring the princess's persistent stare. It had been like this since they first met at the dorms. Those icy blue eyes held an inexplicable hostility toward her.
Beth was numb to others' affection and kindness, but keenly sensitive to negative emotions like anger or contempt. And that intuition had never been wrong. It was an unwanted skill forged by her life.
"This isn't the time to cry."
Aines wiped her tears and set her expression sternly.
"I heard, but I need to check myself to feel at ease."
Aines carefully peeled back the gauze on Beth's wound. Only after confirming it wasn't serious did her face soften.
As she meticulously reattached the gauze, something shiny caught Aines's eye that she hadn't noticed before.
"A necklace?"
Necklace? Beth awkwardly touched her nape. There was no way she'd suddenly have jewelry; she didn't own any baubles.
Aines gently lifted the necklace, avoiding Beth's fingers. A crudely shaped key, stained dark red, dangled from the gleaming chain.
"A key?"
Ah, now she understood. Beth's face twisted in embarrassment.
She should've given it back to the duke earlier. She'd gotten so used to carrying it that she'd forgotten it was around her neck.
Only then did Raphaelle, who had been observing their melodrama from a distance, approach. The click of her heels brought a cloying rose scent.
Beth flinched back, but Raphaelle ignored it and forced the necklace into her hand. The gesture lacked any gentleness, like yanking a beast's leash.
Diamonds, meticulously cut to tiny sizes, were embedded at regular intervals along the platinum chain.
A lavish luxury no ordinary noble house could dream of. And this girl—neither noble nor anything—was wearing it.
Raphaelle's cold gaze pierced Beth.
"Who gave you this?"
Raphaelle's lips, which had been smiling like a flower, twisted crookedly. Like a torn rose.