Chapter 42

Edit eagerly drew in the breath of another entering past her lips. Before she could even process what was happening to her, rough hands began pressing against her chest. Then, the lukewarm water that had been stifling her suddenly burst out along with her halted breath.

“Cough, cough.”

Her breathing didn’t settle easily. Her chest ached painfully from the nonstop coughing. Even in this state, her consciousness teetered on the edge, as if it could slip away at any moment.

Just as she was about to fall unconscious again, Edit opened her heavy eyelids and looked at the one holding her cheek. Black, shining hair, deeply set eyes, and the dark pupils within them.

A face that felt very familiar to Edit.

“……”

Even though it was a face she longed for, Edit couldn’t easily call out his name.

Mac… or Zekart.

She didn’t know which name to call.

Instead, she lifted her exhausted hand and grasped the large hand that cupped her cheek.

Mac… or Zekart.

No matter which, she had missed him just the same.

The first would be expected, but the latter was somewhat unexpected even for Edit. To realize she was longing for that cold, distant man.

“…Don’t.”

At that moment, the man—whether Mac or Zekart—spoke. She could feel the low vibrations in his voice but couldn’t make out the words.

Exhausted, Edit closed her eyes.

She was cold and sleepy. Even the warmth against her skin didn’t penetrate her chilled body.

She felt her consciousness fading. And as it did, the world fell into instant, deep stillness. As if death itself had come.

Winter had entered its final stage.

Snow swirled in every direction along the flow of the cold, frozen air. Rachel walked along the snowy path, arriving at the hideout. She had just come from meeting χ.

[Effective today, your partner is Markus Krüger. Zekart has also been assigned a new partner, so be aware.]

So, of course, you—

Knowing whose request it was, Rachel bit the tip of her lip. Normally, she would have bitten her thumbnail, but it was already so short that it hurt even to touch it. To endure her anxiety, her lips were the only thing she could bite.

Rachel opened the door to the hideout and entered the living room. The lights were off. Leaning back on the sofa in the cold, dark room, she closed her eyes, and her thoughts dragged her back to the past again—to the interrogation room a week ago.

That day, Zekart, whom she expected to ask many questions, hadn’t asked her anything. No—it was more accurate to say she hadn’t mattered to him at all. His gaze had been fixed entirely on Edit Lindel, that woman.

Even though she had lost consciousness and he had released her, she remained motionless in the water tank. He pulled her out, shook her gently, checked her breathing… Every moment felt strange. Was this really the Zekart she knew? Could he really make such expressions with that gaze?

Caught in her daze, he kissed her without hesitation.

“How… could you, in front of my eyes…?”

A sudden, overwhelming sense of betrayal surged through her.

Unlike the woman who had regained her breath, Rachel felt as if her own had stopped.

“Z-Zekart… I…”

Rachel only managed to speak when Zekart was leaving the interrogation room holding the woman. Captured by a sense of futility, she barely realized the words she was speaking, but she had to say something. She couldn’t let him leave like this.

Zekart paused for a moment, his grip on the woman tightening slightly.

“How… here… no, Zekart, I also have circumstances…”

He, who had been looking only at the woman all this time, slowly raised his head. And for the first time, his gaze met hers, filled with sharp contempt.

“Rachel.”

Frozen, she couldn’t answer, but he continued without hesitation. His voice was chilling, filled with dark malice.

“Beg now. From this moment. For this woman to live. If this woman dies…”

“……”

“I will kill you.”

Rachel blocked her ears to shake off the echo of his words. When that didn’t suffice, she buried her head between her knees. Inside, a dry, crumbling sound arose, and along with it, something broke through and sank deep into her heart.

It was hatred.

“Welcome back, Master.”

The butler greeted his returning master, polite yet friendly. The stern master only gave a brief, unenthusiastic nod.

“How will you have your meal?”

“Something simple, just some fruit. Bring it to the second floor.”

“Yes, understood.”

Having concluded the conversation, Zekart went straight to the dressing room. Walking, he loosened his tie as if to save time. The same hurriedness marked all his subsequent actions. Dressing and finishing his shower, his movements appeared strangely impatient.

Without even drying his hair, he arrived at a room on the second floor. A room with a large front window, bathing in abundant sunlight and moonlight. Only when he saw the woman lying on the bed like she was dead did he regain his lost composure.

“…Edit.”

Leaning half on his side beside her, he called her name out of habit. He knew no response would come, yet he did it every day. The woman hadn’t awakened for a week, but that didn’t make him anxious. On the contrary, he hoped she would remain quietly here.

Zekart picked a pale green grape from a plate. As the sweet-sour juice tingled his tongue, he opened the book he had brought. His dark eyes slowly followed the letters. A habit unrefined enough for Markus to scold him for, but he enjoyed reading. Perhaps, before losing his memory, this was what he did. Zekart speculated vaguely.

With each page turned, one or two grapes vanished into his mouth. When he took the last grape, his gaze shifted from the book to the woman lying beside him.

“…Zekart.”

Her voice faintly echoed over his firmly closed lips. Zekart slowly lowered his head. Their lips met lightly at first, then deeply. It was a mix of sour and sweet—not just from the fruit juice lingering in his mouth.

After gently biting her plump lower lip, Zekart lifted his head. Under the pale moonlight, her lips, stained sweetly, looked even redder than before.

His reading continued, but often interrupted. He stroked cheeks so pale they made his heart clench, lightly brushed the lips that had stopped breathing, and combed her golden hair that shimmered like a spider’s web.

When she awoke, what would she say? She would seek her husband again, and when she realized he wasn’t there, she’d be disappointed.

Zekart felt a little resentful.

What was so great about a man who had died without even protecting his woman?

It hardly mattered. The woman’s feelings were useless to him anyway. He just wanted her here, in his pure, untainted domain.

Zekart closed the book, which no longer held his attention, and lay down, pulling the woman close. The soft, warm sensation gave him a slow, satisfying contentment. For someone who had lived with loss and deprivation, it was an unfamiliar sensation. Listening to her regular breathing in his arms, Zekart felt sleep creeping over him. For the past few days, he had always fallen asleep beside her and dreamed of her.

His dreams weren’t particularly special. In them, she lived mostly ordinary days. They walked together on cold early mornings,

“Did you really think I would ask for a break-up just now?”

Or she spoke of parting,

“If you have no other plans, shall we get married?”

Or she spoke of love.

Zekart knew all of it was likely a fantasy, yet it was so vivid and detailed that he felt as if he were glimpsing the memories of her and her lover, Maximilian.

Would tonight be the same?

Zekart closed his eyes, feeling a slight powerlessness.

It wasn’t a pleasant feeling, but there was a trace of anticipation.

The woman’s face when giving and receiving love was beautiful enough to outweigh everything else.

“If only you had waited a little, it would have been my turn to speak first.”

The night for the two of them—and winter—slowly passed.