Chapter 13
“Name.”
“Cheshire!”
Cheshire quickly added, her voice bright with a hint of nervous energy.
“Cheshire Basilian.”
Hailon, seated across from her with a heavy wooden table between them, spoke in a tone as cold as winter stone.
“If there’s any coercion involved, tell me.”
“…A puppy?”
“I’m talking about your attendance at the Little Saints’ Prayer Assembly. I can help you.”
“I’m fine!”
Feigning ignorance, Cheshire watched as Hailon fell silent for a moment. His gaze, sharp and probing, fixed on her eyes, as though searching for traces of hidden magic. Their eyes locked for what felt like an eternity.
Was it because it had been so long since they’d last met?
Under the weight of his unflinching stare, a ticklish unease stirred in her chest. Cheshire fought to maintain an innocent, wide-eyed expression, like that of a guileless child. She braced herself, unsure of what Hailon might ask next. Outwardly, she kept her face serene, her eyes round and untroubled.
After a long, scrutinizing pause, Hailon threw out a sudden question, sharp as a blade.
“Do you know anything about the enchantress Lichesia?”
“I-I don’t know anything!”
The question pierced her heart like a dagger. Cold sweat beaded on her skin, trickling down her back. Her already clumsy tongue seemed to shrink further under the weight of her anxiety.
“I-I was only born a little while ago, you know. I don’t know anything.”
Cheshire waved her hands frantically, emphasizing with all her might that she was a mere two-year-old. Only after the words tumbled out did she realize her answer sounded more like she was living her second life than being two years old. Fortunately, her defense seemed to land. Hailon, perhaps realizing that pressing a toddler for answers was futile, let out a low sigh and covered his eyes with his hand.
For a moment, he stayed like that, then dragged his hand down his face, as if exhaustion weighed heavily on him. A faint crack, like a spiderweb, appeared in the icy mask of his otherwise emotionless expression.
Why did he look so… pained?
Hailon’s anguish was palpable, and Cheshire couldn’t quite place why.
They had known each other for a long time, though not always by choice. Their paths had first crossed when Cheshire fled the orphanage and Hailon entered the temple as an apprentice Holy Knight. Their lives, both upheaved in their own ways, had intertwined and persisted through the years. It wasn’t a bond anyone would call warm or pleasant, but still…
there was something between Cheshire and Hailon, something intangible and hard to name.
Cheshire didn’t want him to die.
If Hailon were to die, she thought, it should at least be by her hand.
She liked to imagine he felt the same way about her, though that was just her own fanciful assumption.
Is he lonely without me?
Cheshire stole glances at him, her eyes darting cautiously. His gloved hand moved slowly, brushing against the bracelet on his wrist. It seemed as though white chains might burst forth from it at any moment, binding everything in their path. The faint clinking of phantom chains echoed in her ears, a haunting illusion.
A memory from the past flickered to life.
“Name.”
Bound in white chains, suspended in the air like a preserved butterfly, she had faced his interrogation.
“Tell me your name, enchantress.”
Hailon’s voice had been sharp, commanding, and utterly devoid of warmth. Annoyed by his cold demeanor, Cheshire had flashed a defiant smile.
“You already know my name.”
“Answer only what is asked.”
His blue eyes hadn’t wavered, not even a flicker of emotion breaking their surface. His voice, dry and mechanical, repeated the same demand.
“Name.”
Perhaps that was why she’d acted so spitefully.
Freed from the Chains of Condemnation, Cheshire had turned the tables. She lured him into a trap, ensnaring him in thorny vines and suspending him in the air. The sight of the Holy Knight, tangled in flowers and thorns, had been so satisfying that she’d burst into laughter.
“Kill me.”
The moment he was caught, he’d demanded his death without hesitation, and that brazenness had only fueled her desire to torment him.
“How could I? You spared my life once.”
“…”
Mentioning the tangled beginning of their relationship caused a faint scowl to crease Hailon’s brow, as if he regretted his past actions.
Whether he regretted it or not didn’t matter to her. The past was irrelevant; only the present held weight.
Cheshire brushed away a butterfly fluttering around her with an elegant wave of her hand. Fixing her crimson eyes, glowing with captured light, on her trapped prey, she spoke.
“I’ll spare you this once. But you should know…”
Her gaze held him captive, her voice low and deliberate.
“The price of our lives has gone up since then.”
Cheshire gently placed her hand on Hailon’s cheek.
As her nails lightly grazed his skin, his refined features twisted further.
“When you spared my life back then, it cost you less than it does for me to spare yours now.”
Hailon glanced down at her hand for a moment before lifting his gaze to meet hers.
His voice, cold and detached, broke the silence.
“What do you want…”
His words cut off abruptly.
Cheshire lowered her eyes slightly, leaning her face closer to his.
“…!”
Hailon’s eyes widened in shock.
His bound hands suddenly gripped the thorny vines with a crunch, unyielding even as blood trickled down. His clenched fists trembled faintly.
After that brief but intense contact, their touching skin parted.
His blue eyes, a storm of anger and humiliation, glared at Cheshire.
Watching those eyes, shattered and quivering, was immensely satisfying.
Savoring his fury—his flushed eyes rimmed with red—she licked her lips provocatively.
“So, a kiss as payment for your life wouldn’t be too much, would it?”
In that moment, Hailon’s rage nearly consumed her entirely.
With unbelievable strength, he tore at the thorny vines and pursued her relentlessly for three days and nights afterward.
It was a fond memory.
But it’s not fun now…
Cheshire sighed, regretting the trouble she’d caused back then.
If she’d tormented him just a little less, maybe she wouldn’t be so on edge now.
She worried that her actions might drag the Basilian household into this mess.
No, come to think of it, that place is already a disaster.
It wasn’t just about getting caught up—Count Basilian’s household was already scheming things that would make the Inquisitors’ eyes bulge.
Kierne, after all, was obsessed with bringing the dead back to life.
Cheshire was lost in these tangled thoughts when Hailon’s next words turned her stomach.
“Do you remember the mother who gave birth to you?”
“What?”
“Did she, by chance, have dazzling golden hair and red eyes?”
“…What?”
Hailon, with a deadly serious expression, spouted nonsense.
“Have you ever seen her with butterflies or flowers, or perhaps caught the scent of flowers from her? Tell me anything you recall about your mother.”
Wait. Hold on. Just a second.
Was Hailon actually suggesting…
That she, Cheshire, was the daughter of the enchantress Lichesia, abandoned at an orphanage?
He thinks I’m Lichesia’s daughter?
It was a horrifying thought.
To put it bluntly, Lichesia barely had time to breathe, let alone get pregnant.
Between causing chaos and fleeing, when would she have found a moment for love?
Yet here was Hailon, entertaining this absurd fantasy.
It made a sliver of sense, she supposed. Lichesia’s whereabouts were unknown, and now a child who resembled her had appeared out of nowhere.
No, it doesn’t make sense!
Cheshire desperately wished he’d abandon this insane idea.
She was battling the urge to yank his silver hair when he spoke again.
“Or perhaps…”
His gloved hand deftly unfastened the stiff collar of his uniform with a flick.
Cheshire’s lips parted in shock.
Hailon continued, undoing the buttons of his jacket one by one—pop, pop—without hesitation.
He even unfastened the small clasps of the black undershirt beneath, tearing them open with a series of sharp snaps.
Cheshire instinctively shrank back, pressing herself against the sofa’s backrest, her eyes screaming, What is this lunatic doing?
Hailon paid her no mind.
He pulled open his uniform, revealing the skin beneath.
Tugging the collar aside, he exposed his sharp collarbone.
“Eek!”
Cheshire covered her eyes with both hands—though, of course, she left a gap between her fingers.
A vivid red flower tattoo glowed under the midday sunlight, stark against his collarbone.
Even as he committed this outrageous act in broad daylight, Hailon’s voice remained calm and measured.
“Have you seen this mark before?”
Of course she had.
It was the mark she had etched onto him.
For a moment, she couldn’t decide how to react.
Her lips twitched like a fish out of water, caught in stunned silence.
Click. The door swung open without a knock.
“…Well.”
A man in a sleek suit spoke, his voice tinged with amusement.
“I’m not sure how I’m supposed to react to this.”
Cheshire and Hailon turned toward the door in unison.
With a crack, Kierne ripped a candlestick from the wall.
Brandishing it with a swing, he laughed.
“Do you have a death wish, Sir Hailon?”
