Chapter 5

 Confirmation (3)

“Then I’ll wait on the first floor.”

Hans delivered the music box to the fourth-floor reception room and promptly took his leave. The Roan household servants also brought a cup of tea for Edmund, then filed out.

Edmund waited for Elia in a space he had never set foot in before.

Unlike the silent reception room, the fourth-floor corridor outside Elia’s bedchamber was abuzz with servants’ voices. Completely unaware that someone had come to see her, Elia appeared to be holed up somewhere in the manor.

Eighteen. The spring of her eighteenth year…

Edmund tried to recall the young Elia from his memories. How different she must be from the woman who had thrown divorce papers at him—the woman he loved.

Her face, which had never quite filled out, would still carry the softness of youth. Would she look at him straight on, as she used to—her face flushed red just like in those days?

As the years passed, she would grow more beautiful—only to turn twenty-eight and try to flee from Edmund once again.

But even so, Edmund would be fine.

Even if Elia didn’t love him back, Edmund would be fine.

If she tries to leave me again, I’ll hold on to her. I can kneel and beg as many times as it takes.

He wouldn’t hesitate to use the despicable tactic of taking her loved ones hostage to bind her to him.

Or perhaps he would resort to the cowardly method of threatening to die if she left—pressing guilt upon her tender heart.

So even if she didn’t love him, it would be all right.

But whether Edmund could love the eighteen-year-old Elia… that, he wasn’t so sure. To have chased her all the way to her home, and now to hesitate.

The Elia he met again might be different from the woman he had loved. Death might have changed her, just to punish him.

If her voice was merely noise to him, if her gaze no longer stirred any desire—

Even if she wore the same skin as the woman he loved, he might not be able to love her.

Or perhaps the thirty-two-year-old me will change you, before you’ve even fully bloomed.

He might defile this unripened woman with his own greed, causing her to grow into someone entirely different from the woman he once loved.

Would that still be all right?

Of course not. If he couldn’t find the woman he loved in this eighteen-year-old girl—if he couldn’t love her—then it would be no different from the world where he had lost Elia.

It doesn’t matter if I’m not loved in return. But Elia—if I can’t love you, then I have no use for such a world. I’d rather…

Perhaps Edmund would have to die dozens, hundreds of times to reclaim Elia.

He would harbor the irrational hope that if he drove his sword into a more painful place, his beloved woman might return to him—and he would endure that pain endlessly.

But in the end, he would come to realize: the offering one must present to God to have a woman returned must be pure and beautiful—and all he could offer was a body defiled by a heart soaked in darkness, never to be rewarded.

And when he failed to reclaim you, when even the means to try had vanished—what then?

Shapeless fear gnawed at his reason.

Elia, would it be better to leave you alone, like before? To wait, hoping that somewhere I don’t know, you might love me?

To endure until you were on the verge of giving up on me—and then to ensnare you, so you could never escape…

…

He turned his gaze toward the quiet corridor beyond the reception room. There was still no sign of Elia.

Edmund was conflicted. Matters of fleeing or pride meant nothing to him.

Should I leave even now? Walk out of this manor and follow the old path? Just live slightly, ever so slightly differently—so that this time, you won’t leave me…

Ah.

But the door opened, and Elia entered—wrapped in a pale blue shawl.

“Edmund.”

In that instant, Edmund became twenty-two again—and he desired the eighteen-year-old Elia’s eyes.

He had fallen in love with the same woman again.

He had fallen in love with that unwavering gaze—unchanged as ever.

After taking a deep breath, Elia opened the reception room door—and there he truly was. Edmund Raspe.

The young Duke of the Empire. The head of House Raspe, possessed of a brilliant mind, unparalleled drive, and cruelty. The lone, aloof wolf who had survived alone.

And Elia’s betrothed. The man she would marry—unless he abandoned her first—was waiting for her.

“…Why are you here?”

Her head ached from the servants’ relentless brushing. But she couldn’t very well rub the sore spot in front of Edmund, so Elia simply clutched her shawl tightly.

Even in her nervous state, Elia didn’t forget to close the reception room door firmly behind her. She absolutely did not want anyone accidentally overhearing their conversation.

“Edmund, I asked why you came. Eugene is at the Palace. I heard you didn’t have a prior engagement to—”

“Elia. Eli.”

“…What?”

Elia thought she must have misheard. She had never imagined that Edmund—the man she had expected to state his business and leave without ceremony—would utter her pet name.

Moreover, the voice calling her name sounded nothing like his usual tone. Edmund’s voice had always been cold, like a frozen lake, even when delivering the most ordinary greeting.

It had always taken her breath away—and ever since she came of age, she had stopped speaking to him altogether.

Tender…? That’s impossible.

That was never a word that belonged with Edmund. And yet, unbelievably, Edmund’s voice just now had sounded unmistakably tender.

Why on earth?

Just yesterday he treated me like dust settled on his black coat! Even when Eugene brought me up at dinner, he ignored me completely without so much as a glance!

It was only natural that Edmund’s sudden show of interest put her on guard. Her hand, gripping the shawl, turned white with tension.

Still, I’m the head of the Roan household when Eugene isn’t here! I can’t afford to shrink away. Even a grass-eating rabbit has teeth.

She’d bite him before she got bitten—and then run.

Flee into the corridor, shout “His Grace is leaving! See him out at once!” and then hide in her bedchamber.

When attempting something reckless, one must never give oneself time to hesitate. Elia opened her mouth at once, baring teeth better suited for chewing grass.

“What is this—no, Edmund. Why did you suddenly show up and call me by that sickening pet name from my childhood?”

“You used to like it, Eli.”

But despite her chilly dismissal—even bringing out the word “sickening”—Edmund only stepped closer to her.

It was true that her betrothed had never been one to care what others thought. But this was going too far.

What is he saying? He’s never called me that once in all these years, and now he says he’ll do it because I like it?

He’d barely ever even called her “Elia”—let alone “Eli”! He’d shown so little interest that he’d hardly ever said her name at all!

“Eli.”

Good heavens. At the voice that came again, Elia bit her tongue.

And before she knew it, Edmund had closed the distance to right in front of her. She swore she had never stood this close to him before.

His tall frame, now just three steps away. The voice that made her almost mistake it for tenderness. And those eyes that ensnared her gaze.

He was so much closer than ever before that Elia couldn’t breathe. Those dark eyes, tinged with blue, held her captive.

This is impossible. There’s no way…

But it couldn’t be her imagination. Elia was flustered, but that didn’t make it impossible to comprehend. Nor could she pretend not to notice.

The way he called her by her pet name in that tender voice. The way he met her eyes as if ready to whisper love at any moment…

It was exactly how one would treat a beloved betrothed.

At least on the surface, he was acting like a perfect lover—and anyone who wasn’t an idiot could see that.

He’s acting. It has to be acting. I don’t know what his scheme is, but that’s the only explanation. Unless…

Elia tried to convince herself that Edmund was simply exceptionally skilled at deception. Or perhaps that he’d lost his mind.

Yes. That’s much more believable. He went all those years without showing emotion, and now he’s finally snapped. Oh, good heavens…

If that were the case, it was a serious problem. She was alone, facing a mad Edmund!

A mad Edmund. I can’t stay here. I need to escape—right now, somehow!

Elia, who had planned to bite him once and then flee, scrapped that plan entirely. She needed to get away immediately.

Her legs wouldn’t move, as if someone were holding them. Her eyes, caught in his gaze, felt suffocated—she couldn’t look away. But she had to escape somehow.

The Edmund before her now looked completely insane.

From Elia’s perspective, it was as if Edmund had suddenly jumped from the garden straight up to the fourth floor of the manor.

If he had climbed the stairs step by step from the first floor, perhaps she could have accepted it. If he had followed the gradual, ordinary progression like everyone else, she might have been swayed—thinking, So even he has a human side after all.

Perhaps she might have slowly softened to the emotion Daisy praised every day.

But Edmund hadn’t used the stairs. He had skipped the entire ordinary process—awareness, gradual understanding, and finally love.

Instead, he had jumped straight from the first floor to the fourth like a madman.

No—physically and emotionally! Skipping the second and third floors to go from first to fourth—what kind of madness is that! It’s impossible!

When the impossible occurs, isn’t fear only natural?

In the end, Elia was consumed by irrational terror before her betrothed. She wanted to escape from this madman and return to reality.

“…Edmund.”

So Elia chose to provoke him. She almost wished he would draw his sword and swing it at her.

“Why are you here all of a sudden? Have you lost your mind?”

She wanted to see him act in a way that was far more Edmund-like than calling her by pet names and pretending to love her.

“Or are you here to get revenge for something I did to you? I’ve done nothing wrong to you, so stop this madness and… just tell me why you came.”

It wasn’t meant as a joke, but Edmund smiled as if he’d heard one. It was the first time.

The slight curl of his lips. The low chuckle. All of it was new. She had never known Edmund could smile so brightly.

I can’t breathe.

Was it because of the man’s beautiful appearance? Or because of the fear that refused to fade? Elia found herself breathless at the sight of Edmund’s smile.

Her chest felt tight, as if she’d overeaten. She had to force herself to swallow, again and again, just to draw breath.

“Eli, I missed you.”

Ah, this time—her heart…

“You probably won’t understand, but…”

I don’t understand. Missed me? We saw each other yesterday. Right?

He had ignored her like a painting hung on the wall and forgotten—just yesterday. And now he wanted to act as if yesterday never happened?

She wanted to protest, but her stiff lips wouldn’t even release a sigh.

She wished he would stop talking. Afraid of what other words might come out and shock her, Elia pleaded with her eyes.

Edmund, please. Just a little more slowly. Slowly…

But the pleas she couldn’t voice didn’t reach him.

“I missed you. So terribly much.”

She had no choice but to receive the feelings Edmund poured out.