Chapter 84
A few steps away, Ray was watching the two of them with uneasy eyes when he realized something was going very wrong. But Handsome blocked his way, and Ray couldn’t take a single step closer. He grew frantic.
“Chloe! Just wait a second, talk to me. Hey! Edard! You’re supposed to be talking to me. You’ve always dealt only with me until now!”
But no matter how loudly Ray shouted, Edard and Chloe didn’t even spare him a glance. As though they couldn’t hear him at all, the two simply looked at each other and smiled calmly. Ray’s voice rose another pitch.
“That villa belongs to me! My name is written in the owner’s column!”
At last, Ray began clawing desperately at Handsome’s arms that were blocking his path. When Handsome seized his wrists firmly, Ray struggled fiercely, but when he realized he couldn’t overpower him, he spat right in Handsome’s face. Spittle splattered across Handsome’s cheek, yet Handsome continued holding Ray’s arms tightly.
“You filthy servant dares to touch the body of a noble? Do you want your wrist chopped off? Should I do it for you? Huh?”
Gone was his usual elegance and refinement—Ray now looked no different from a street thug. Even so, Handsome tried to keep his composure. Not because he feared Ray, but because he never wanted to do even the smallest thing that might harm his lord.
Unable to bear it any longer, Donghee sighed and called out.
“Handsome.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Even as he answered, Handsome continued glaring at Ray with sharp, threatening eyes.
“Let him go.”
Handsome’s head turned toward the lord.
“Pardon? But—”
“It’s fine.”
As Donghee replied, she reached into her handbag and slowly pulled out a pair of lace gloves, slipping them onto her hands.
What a perfect day for a lesson.
—Durability has decreased. Please note: one more use may render the item permanently unusable.
The moment the gloves slid on, a blue status window popped up before her eyes.
It’s fine. I’ll just use them this once and then stop. I can always buy another pair anyway.
She answered carelessly in her mind and carefully inspected the state of the lace gloves. Even though they had been washed, faint traces of Cullen’s blood still remained here and there, and there were small tears in several places. Wearing them again brought back memories of that day, leaving her with mixed feelings.
Meanwhile, Ray, after spitting at Handsome one last time, swaggered triumphantly toward Donghee.
“How dare a servant lay hands on me. I’ll never forgive him. I’ll show him the dignity of a noble.”
Still fuming, Ray repeatedly stopped and turned to jab his finger at Handsome as he crossed the short distance to Donghee. But Handsome only stood firm like a stone statue, glaring coldly. If Ray made even the slightest move to endanger his lord, Handsome was ready to hurl him away without hesitation.
“Chloe. How did you change like this? Who twisted you into this? Where’s my sweet, cute Chloe gone? But even this side of you—I still love it all. You know that, don’t you? I can’t live without you, no—you can’t live without me either. You came here because you missed me, because you knew I’d be here. Stop hiding your feelings.”
His voice carried the tone of a teacher lecturing a wayward student.
“Ray.”
Donghee had no desire to hear another word of his rambling.
“Say it, my love.”
“If you dare call me my love again, or call my name with that filthy mouth of yours, or pretend you know me, or even look at me with those dead-fish eyes, I’ll turn that pretty-boy face of yours into a Teletubby.”
“Chloe, why are you saying that? My love—ugh!”
Ray’s lovesick babbling ended with a loud thwack! as Donghee’s fist slammed into his face.
“I told you not to say that disgusting word!”
Ray didn’t even have the chance to scream properly before he went sprawling, sliding across the glossy floor like someone wiping down an ice rink after a fall. He only came to a stop when his back slammed against the wall.
“C-c-Chloe. How could you…”
The pain in his bruised cheek left his voice broken. Stunned, he lay there on the floor, staring up at Chloe with a dazed expression.
Clack, clack, clack.
The sharp sound of Donghee’s heels striking the marble echoed loudly. With his ear pressed to the floor, the noise seemed to pierce directly into Ray’s skull. Covering his swollen cheek, he looked up at Chloe in terror as she slowly approached.
Donghee looked down at him as though he were an insect before crouching to bring her eyes level with his. Behind her, Handsome stepped closer, ready in case anything happened. By all rights, Handsome—taller and broader—should have been the more frightening presence, yet Ray found the icy gaze of Chloe far more terrifying.
“Ray.”
When Chloe suddenly spoke his name sweetly, tears welled in Ray’s eyes from fear. Swallowing hard, he shrank into himself like a turtle and answered, his voice barely a whisper.
“Y-yes?”
Donghee gently brushed a hand through his disheveled hair. At her touch, Ray’s shoulders hunched even further, his neck disappearing into them.
“Shh, don’t be scared. I won’t hit you again.”
“T-thank you.”
Ray stammered, trembling, and Donghee smiled in satisfaction before asking:
“This outfit. I bought it for you, didn’t I?”
“Y-yes. You said it suited me and had it tailored just for me.”
Lying there weeping, Ray looked as pitiful as an abandoned puppy.
“Since I bought it, I’ll be taking it back.”
Before Ray could even question how she meant to take back clothes he was wearing, Chloe’s hand clamped firmly on his collar. He dangled limply in her grip like wet laundry fresh out of the wash.
“You stay behind.”
She whispered kindly, pressing down lightly on his body with her free hand.
Rip!
Ray’s clothes tore away violently.
“Waaahhh!”
Not only Ray, but everyone around widened their eyes in disbelief at how easily his outfit shredded like tissue paper. Especially the two officials who had blocked Grace’s lord outside the theater earlier—color drained entirely from their faces as they instinctively clutched at their own clothes and stumbled backward.
Donghee looked with disdain at the scraps of fabric in her hand before tossing them to Handsome.
“I bought it, so let’s take it back. You can use it to wipe manure or something.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Handsome’s eyes sparkled brighter than ever as he looked at his lord. It was, indeed, a beautiful day.
On the way back to Grace, having reclaimed both Hallis Theater and the villa, Donghee’s heavy heart—burdened ever since Cullen’s attack—felt a little lighter.
“My lord, does your wrist hurt badly?”
“Hm? Why?”
“You keep holding it. I fear you strained yourself earlier.”
Without realizing it, she had been massaging her wrist. Smiling brightly at Handsome’s worried gaze, Donghee answered:
“No, I’m fine. In fact, I feel refreshed.”
“Even so, I’ll have them prepare a hot compress for your wrist as soon as we return.”
“Thank you.”
The glove’s durability had been reduced, and ripping Ray’s clothes had indeed strained her wrist. Donghee clenched the now tattered gloves in her hand and closed her eyes. Despite the jolting carriage, she felt she could sleep soundly.
Once Donghee had fully recovered, the Grace territory regained its vitality. Like a desk clock with fresh batteries, it ticked away busily.
“My lord, Helsa and Farmer have come to see you.”
“Oh, send them in quickly.”
It had been a while since she last saw them, and she felt a sudden surge of joy. As soon as her words fell, the office doors opened and the two entered side by side. Helsa’s skin had grown darker, and Farmer looked thinner. Standing next to each other, Helsa’s tall frame stood out even more.
Farmer, clearly uneasy standing beside a much taller woman, kept trying to inch away from her.
“It’s been a while. Helsa, you cut your hair?”
Where she used to keep it tied back, now it was cropped short, exposing her nape. Helsa scratched her head sheepishly.
“It got in the way while working, so I cut it.”
“Short hair suits you well. You look great. And Farmer—you’ve lost weight. You’re not sick, are you?”
Noticing and commenting on even their small changes made them smile brightly with gratitude.
“You said you had good news?”
“Yes, the wasteland reclamation is complete, and we’ve started cultivating the crops you gave us last time.”
“Really? The reclamation finished faster than I expected.”
Seeing her pleased, Farmer’s expression brightened even more as he explained:
“Yes, the fertilizer worked wonders. The entire wasteland turned into fertile soil. Helsa made it so quickly that we have fertilizer to spare. From now on, anything we plant will thrive. I never imagined a day would come when we could grow something there. I’m so happy, and so thankful to you, my lord.”
As Farmer spoke, he grew emotional, sniffling and choking up mid-sentence. Helsa watched warmly, patting him on the shoulder like one would a younger brother. Though Farmer was likely at least five years older, the roles seemed reversed—and oddly, neither of them minded.
“You two seem to have grown close.”
“Yes, my lord. I’m also friends with Farmer’s wife now. And Colin is just adorable. You should see how quickly he memorizes crop names—takes after his father. He surprises me all the time.”
Colin was Farmer’s five-year-old son. Helsa spoke of him with such pride, as though he were her nephew.
“I’d love to meet him. If he takes after Farmer, he must be very round and cute.”
“Yes, he’s as cute as a cabbage.”
Farmer’s smile froze at the comparison. It wasn’t clear if being “cabbage-cute” was a compliment or an insult.
Knock, knock, knock.
Just as they were enjoying their cheerful reunion, an urgent knock sounded at the door.
“Come in.”
Red Bear entered quickly, speaking in a tense voice.
“My lord, Uroon has returned.”
It was the subordinate Red Bear had sent to investigate the pouch found earlier in Cullen’s cave.
