Chapter 67
* * *
“Aaah!”
Grace screamed as she smashed one of the chunks of flesh on the table. Watching her, Rasil let out a mocking chuckle.
“Another failure?”
At the sarcastic tone, Grace shot Rasil a fierce glare. Rasil shrugged and personally stabbed the remaining heart on the table with his scabbard, crushing it.
“Only three left now.”
Rasil spoke like a warning as he slowly approached Grace. His water-blue eyes, reminiscent of Anette’s, looked at her with pitying disdain.
“It was almost there. I can succeed next time.”
Grace retorted without backing down. Her narrowed eyes were filled with venom.
That look in her eyes used to seem like it could accomplish anything, which I liked, but now it just looks like stubbornness. Has she become a card I’ll have to discard when the time comes? But she’s too valuable to throw away easily.
“You’d better. Father is finally starting to pay close attention to the stories about Phaelon, and in Phaelon, they clearly know that I’m the one who kidnapped that girl Angela.”
Rasil explained the situation outside the secret room where Grace was staying. Though it wasn’t showing on the surface, an invisible undercurrent of tension was slowly building inside.
All a war needed was a tiny spark. Rasil believed he held that spark. Now, he just had to drop it between Phaelon and the Taran Kingdom.
“If you don’t find your power in the midst of all this, I’ll be in quite a bind.”
Rasil looked at Grace squarely. His gaze held more suspicion than the initial expectation he’d shown her.
“I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen, so just bring the next heart properly. That’s your job.”
Grace reacted savagely to that sidelong glance. In her mind, she thought that once she found her power, she wouldn’t just let that arrogant crown prince of the Taran Kingdom be.
* * *
“Shh, shh. It’s okay, Angela. I’m right here.”
Kalian was holding Angela, who had jolted awake from sleep and was frantically brushing at her chest. He didn’t know what had startled her so much, but he wanted to calm her down first.
“It’s okay. Hmm?”
At the gentle voice, Angela gradually came to her senses. She stopped the hand that had been almost slapping at her chest and nestled quietly into Kalian’s embrace.
Kalian pulled her a little closer, patting her back as he held her. With the rhythmic touch, her body, which had been trembling like in convulsions, found peace.
“Grace… Grace came again, saying she was going to eat my heart.”
Ah…, Kalian opened his mouth as if letting out a groan. This was the situation Kalian dreaded the most. Because if it happened in a dream, there was nothing he could do to help.
He could take her away from the Bilton estate, and he could save Angela from the apology that Dominic was trying to force on her, but that dream world was a realm beyond Kalian’s reach.
Kalian hugged Angela tightly. Their distance closed until there was no more room to get nearer. Pressed together without the slightest gap, they confirmed each other’s presence and found reassurance.
“I wish I could dream it instead.”
At Kalian’s words, Angela shook her head vigorously. That was even worse. The idea of Grace coming to tear out and eat Kalian’s heart.
If she ever saw such a thing, Angela might awaken that so-called power Grace was talking about right then and there.
“What should I do? I don’t know how to make you okay.”
Angela let out a soft laugh at Kalian’s words, even though he had already made her okay.
“Can’t you tell from how quickly the trembling stopped?”
Kalian’s gaze, Kalian’s embrace, Kalian’s kiss, everything about Kalian was a soothing balm for Angela’s heart. Sitting this close, breathing in his scent, turned her anguish into something that felt distant, like a miracle drug.
“If I’m doing something wrong, you have to tell me. I’m the kind of person who only learns what Angela teaches me.”
Kalian spoke just like he had back in his mercenary days when they first met. Eager to learn anything, satisfied only by following Angela in everything.
Angela toyed with Kalian’s black hair, threading it between her fingers, then pressed her lips to his cheek.
Then Kalian mirrored her exactly. He slipped her golden hair between his fingers, gently stroking it, before pressing his lips to hers.
Startled by the sudden kiss, Angela pulled back slightly and looked at Kalian. Pretending to be a child one moment, then abruptly becoming an adult—that was cheating.
“You said you’d only learn what I teach you.”
As Angela chided him playfully, Kalian softly kissed her lips again. Warmth seeped between their overlapping lips.
Warmth…? Angela suddenly broke contact with Kalian and pulled away. Then she slapped her hand onto his forehead.
It was too hot. Like touching a blazing log with bare hands.
“Kalian, your fever… You, your fever is way too high.”
Angela furrowed her brow and muttered. If it had just been a mild warmth, she might have lightly scolded him with something like, “You have a fever. Didn’t you notice, acting all beastly like that?” and then prepared a wet cloth.
But this wasn’t that level. It was boiling intensely. It wouldn’t be strange if Kalian turned red and vanished in flames any moment. It was astonishing that he could sit there looking fine like this.
Angela hurriedly rose from her seat. She was about to leave the bed to fetch a doctor. She knew she could call the servants anytime by shaking the long cord beside the bed, but she was so shocked that she forgot her lifelong habit.
“Wait, Kalian. The doctor…!”
Muttering as she tried to move away from the bed, Angela was instantly seated back down. Kalian had pulled her into an embrace from behind.
His forehead rested on her shoulder. The unnatural heat was still palpable. This wasn’t a human body temperature.
“I’ll call the doctor. You’re not right. Your fever is too high.”
Angela said, her voice choking up. She was worried that something might happen to Kalian. The eerie heat made her think that way.
But Kalian held her close and wouldn’t let go. Even when Angela twisted her body slightly, he kept his arms firmly around her waist, not loosening his grip at all.
“Kalian.”
By then, Angela’s voice had turned stern.
“You told me to let you know if you’re doing something wrong, didn’t you? This is wrong. Let me go. You need to see a doctor.”
Angela’s voice was sharp with reproach, but just as it seemed Kalian might release her, he slid off the bed and knelt at her feet, clasping her hands tightly in his. To anyone watching, it might have looked like a proposal, but Angela felt a surge of frustration at Kalian’s strange behavior.
It was bad enough that he was kneeling on the cold floor while clearly unwell. She was on the verge of raising her voice, demanding he get back on the bed, when Kalian’s lips brushed against her hand. Still holding her hand to his lips, he asked,
“Are my lips hot?”
“Too hot. This isn’t a normal temperature.”
Kalian gave a slight nod and asked again,
“And the hands holding yours? Are they hot?”
Was that even a question? It felt like plunging her hands into a roaring fireplace.
“Yes. Unbearably hot.”
Angela opened her mouth to insist he let go and see a doctor, but Kalian leaned his cheek gently against her leg and said,
“I don’t have a fever.”
What kind of nonsense was that? He was burning up, and he claimed he didn’t have a fever?
“What are you talking about? You’re scorching hot right—”
“Angela.”
Kalian interrupted, cutting off her rising anger, and looked up at her. His eyes seemed heavy with some unspoken weight. Unsure of what was happening, Angela fell silent, gazing back at him.
“Angela…”
“…”
“You’re cold.”
The words that came from his mouth were hard to process. Angela couldn’t digest them. They sat heavy in her chest, like indigestion. Her eyes darted around, searching for somewhere to land, unsettled by the words that hung awkwardly between them.
“What…?”
Her voice trembled as she asked, and Kalian’s eyes glistened with moisture. Did she sound pitiful? Was that why his eyes looked so sorrowful?
“Since I woke up, I’ve been getting colder and colder.”
Angela’s eyes widened, and she sprang from the bed, pushing Kalian away. She paced frantically across the room, then stopped abruptly, running her hands over her body. She touched her arms, her neck, clenched and unclenched her fists, brushed her fingers across her lips. But she couldn’t feel any coldness. Her body temperature felt perfectly normal.
Suddenly, Angela’s gaze snapped to the window. The landscape of Ron, still untouched by spring, stretched out before her.
Without thinking, she flung open the door and ran out. Barefoot, she dashed through the corridor, across the lobby, and into the estate’s garden.
The cold should have bitten into her. Dressed only in a thin nightgown, she should have been shivering, scrambling back inside to escape the chill. Angela had always been sensitive to the cold. While others mocked Ron’s winters, she’d burrow into blankets, craving warmth.
But now, she felt nothing. Unbeknownst to her, snow had fallen, dusting the bare branches with delicate white flakes. Yet Angela wasn’t cold.
What is this…?
Instead of the cold, fear gripped her. Something was wrong with her body.
At that moment, Kalian ran up, carrying a coat, and draped it over her shoulders. To Angela, who didn’t even notice the cold, he said,
“You’ll catch a cold going out dressed so lightly.”
Then he scooped her up, barefoot as she was, into his arms.
She thought he’d carry her back inside, but instead, Kalian took her to a bench in the garden and sat down.
Rather than setting her elsewhere, he settled her on his lap, letting her lean into his embrace.
Though she couldn’t feel the cold, Kalian’s warmth was vivid, almost overwhelming.
It was hot, but the fact that she could feel something was comforting, and she pressed herself closer to him.
“I’m strange, Kalian. I don’t feel human. What if I’m a monster?”
Kalian laughed softly, as if she’d said something absurd. His hand caressed her cheek, a touch warm enough to melt ice.
“All you need to be is Angela.”
Human or not, monster or not, Angela was Angela.
Her unsteady gaze, which had been wavering in the air, settled on him, clear and focused. His eyes held no trace of coldness—they were like deep, verdant greenery, rooted in sunlight, sprouting leaves.
Kalian wished Angela could see the beauty he saw in her. If she could, she’d never dare call herself a monster. Not when she was so breathtakingly noble.
“Nothing else matters.”
Angela’s face flickered with the threat of tears before she broke into a smile.
“I am me.”
Her lips curved softly as she spoke, and Kalian pulled her into a fierce embrace. His hand stroked the back of her head, then slid down to pat her back—a gesture of approval, as if to say she’d done well.
It used to be Angela’s role to offer praise and rewards, but lately, it felt like their roles had reversed.
And that was okay. Because of Kalian, who saw her as herself, Angela found the strength to keep going.
Even if Grace came tomorrow night, craving her heart. Even if Grace came the night after, demanding her flesh. Even if Grace came the night after that, proclaiming her a monster. Angela could face it all, stand tall, and endure.
No matter how hard she fought to rise, Kalian would be there, waiting to embrace her silently, despite her chillingly unnatural body temperature.
Even if she couldn’t feel the bite of winter, he’d hold her close, as if her cold body still carried warmth, and call her Angela.
“Let’s go inside. Holding ice in the middle of winter like this—you’ll really catch a cold.”
His tone was teasing, almost exasperated, as Angela playfully rubbed her forehead against his shoulder, like a child seeking indulgence. Just as Kalian stood, ready to carry her back inside, a voice rang out.
“My lady! My lady!”
Mary came rushing out from the estate, her arms laden with a blanket far too large for her frame.
“It’s freezing out here! Why are you dressed so thinly? And you, Master Kalian, if you’re going to bring her out, at least make sure she’s bundled up properly! Oh, goodness, barefoot? Honestly!”
