Chapter 14
Isabella was sitting in the rocking chair by the window, basking in the sunlight.
Betty had strongly insisted that it was absolutely not allowed, that she had to stay lying down, but Isabella had stubbornly refused.
The bed scared her too much.
Humans were scarier than the grim reaper.
Who knew who might try to cover Isabella’s mouth again while she was lying down?
“Are you cold?”
Betty draped a comforting blanket over the trembling Isabella.
Isabella smiled faintly.
“Whose room is this?”
“This is Lord Cleore’s room.”
Betty moved Cleore’s messy documents to one side.
Isabella slowly looked around the room.
Unlike her own room, it felt empty.
The only furniture was a large sofa, a side table, a tea table set by the window, a wardrobe with hangers, and a bed.
There wasn’t even a single decorative cabinet.
“Isabella, may I come in?”
It was Cleore.
Isabella glanced at Betty, who nodded, and then opened the door.
Betty discreetly stepped aside.
“Isabella, Joanne has received a fitting punishment.”
“What kind of punishment?”
Isabella asked.
Cleore hesitated for a moment, wondering if he should tell her, then decided against it.
“Just know that it was appropriate. That sort of thing will never happen again.”
The memory of gasping under Joanne’s hand resurfaced.
Suddenly, it became hard to breathe.
Cleore quickly stepped forward and gently stroked her back.
“I need to lie down.”
Isabella grabbed Cleore’s collar.
Cleore lifted her effortlessly and laid her on the soft bed.
He sat down beside her.
The mattress tilted toward Cleore’s side.
“Isabella, I really can’t leave you alone.”
“Ah…?”
“Nor can I just let anyone stay in your room.”
He looked at her.
His beast-like eyes, once they caught a gaze, refused to let go.
He smiled lazily and brushed back his ebony hair falling over his forehead.
Isabella’s eyes naturally followed his long, thick fingers.
“From today, you’ll stay with me in my room.”
Isabella’s calm eyes trembled.
“What did you say?”
“Since we’ll be sharing it after the wedding anyway, think of it as practice… for the room…”
“W-wait, Cleore.”
“Hm?”
Cleore looked into Isabella’s face.
Her small face held a mix of emotions—bewilderment, embarrassment, and confusion.
“I’m fine. You’re a busy person, and I have my own room…”
“Isabella, if something happened to you, I’d have to sprint up three floors. I’m fast, but those moments are a lifetime for you, aren’t they?”
He was right.
If Cleore had been even slightly late today, she would have died.
Isabella closed her mouth.
Cleore held her hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it.
“And in that short moment, I tasted hell.”
At the whisper of his deep, low voice, Isabella’s eyes wavered.
He acted as if he loved Isabella terribly.
Impossible.
He loved me, whose life is limited because of a curse?
It couldn’t be.
Isabella gripped her pounding heart tightly.
She bit her lower lip.
Isabella received utmost care in Cleore’s room.
Betty packed all her belongings.
Cleore never left her alone.
Whenever he needed a report, he called people to his room or went to the hallway to hear it.
Isabella slept and woke to the scratch of quills on paper.
“Cleore, you kidnapper!”
When Isabella woke from her third nap, the door didn’t just open—it flew off.
Startled, she turned to see Clara standing there.
Clara was holding a massive hammer.
As she set it down, the floor trembled slightly as if from an earthquake.
“Clara, how many times have I told you to knock before entering someone’s room?”
Cleore frowned, looking exasperated.
“That’s when you visit someone deserving of respect! Not when you’re going after a kidnapper! You scoundrel…”
Clara opened her mouth to hurl a string of curses at Cleore, then hesitated.
Isabella looked at her, surprised.
‘Oh my, did I scare my sister?’
Noticing Isabella’s shock, Clara quickly apologized.
“Isabella, I’m sorry! While discussing the early morning matter with Mom, I didn’t know my brother had moved your room. And he sleeps naked with a bad habit of moving in his sleep!”
Huh?
Isabella stared daggers at Cleore.
A flicker of emotion crossed her usually impassive eyes.
The look you have when you see something you shouldn’t.
“Clara! Don’t spread such rumors. Isabella, don’t listen to her. He sleeps fully dressed.”
“You’re lying, brother. During a thunderstorm, I saw you sleeping naked in your room!”
“Ah?”
Visiting my room at night?
Cleore had never heard this before.
He narrowed his eyes at Clara.
“Ah, well… the thunderstorm…”
“You came to my room because you were scared?”
Clara’s pride took a hit. She pressed her lips together tightly, rolling her eyes.
If Cleore knew she was afraid of thunderstorms, he’d tease her for life.
Even if she explained that she’d overcome it as a child?
She was doomed.
But she couldn’t back down now!
She couldn’t let Cleore take Isabella!
“Anyway, the fact is he was naked.”
“It must’ve been really hot.”
“Just because it’s hot doesn’t mean everyone sleeps naked.”
Yes! I won!
Clara silently cheered.
But it was a premature victory.
The champagne of triumph leaves only a bitter hangover.
Cleore went to sit beside Isabella.
He wrapped his arm around her shoulder, drawing her close.
Isabella’s shoulder, light as a feather, touched Cleore’s chest.
He tilted his head slightly.
He looked at Isabella, then back at Clara.
‘Huh?’
Their brief gaze collision was strange.
Like soft taffy melted in summer heat—sweet and sticky…
“Clara.”
Cleore interrupted Isabella’s thoughts.
He looked at Clara, raising a corner of his mouth in amusement.
“We’re married anyway. What’s wrong with sleeping a bit unclothed?”
Cleore placed his hand on Isabella’s shoulder.
“Cleore!”
Though he spoke the shameful words, it was Isabella who flushed red like a roasted sweet potato.
She scolded him.
Cleore shrugged nonchalantly.
“Were you planning to share a bed with Isabella?”
Suddenly, a cold voice came from behind Clara.
“Madam Angela.”
Isabella thought of Angela as her savior for halting the tense standoff with Clara and Cleore.
Angela appeared holding Lux, her sword-like twin.
Lux, radiating a subtle glow from the blade, had been soaked in dragon’s blood for years to become a legendary weapon.
Anyone struck by it would feel their bones melt.
Angela gracefully entered Cleore’s bedroom, brandishing the dangerous sword.
“Mother?”
“Cleore, do you have any sense? If you swing those orc-like arms, will our delicate Isabella’s body survive?”
Calling her son an orc.
She used to praise him for his sturdy, solid build.
Angela’s sudden shift in demeanor over Isabella’s welfare annoyed her.
“Release Isabella.”
It felt like she’d become a kidnapper.
But since she was already in that role, she couldn’t let go of Isabella.
Considering Isabella’s health, Cleore’s room was the safest place.
Imagine Isabella sharing a room with Clara.
Clara wouldn’t leave her alone for a second.
Even a finger movement from Isabella would prompt Clara to gush, “Sister, your fingers are so delicate!”
If she breathed, Clara would praise it, “Exquisite sound!”
Isabella would never have proper rest.
And Angela?
She trained in the room with Lux.
Plus, Viktor often visited.
Though older, they still loved each other passionately and didn’t hold back displays of affection.
This was for Isabella’s health.
She couldn’t risk Isabella dying from fright.
Efficiency was also a factor.
When moving Isabella, Cleore carried her.
Clara was strong but still smaller than Isabella, making her unstable.
Angela could, but Isabella would feel uncomfortable. Viktor couldn’t do it either.
Moreover, Cleore was surprisingly protective of his own.
Isabella was his.
He couldn’t allow anyone to touch her freely.
This was both a matter of principle and emotion.
Cleore liked his logic very much.
“That is not possible.”
Cleore flatly rejected Angela’s suggestion.
“Then there’s no choice. Son, let’s finish last month’s unfinished duel!”
“Let’s decide which room Isabella will use by duel! I’m joining too!”
Clara lifted her dragon-claw-forged hammer.
Isabella clutched Cleore’s collar tightly.
Cleore, looking at Angela and Clara with a disdainful expression, tilted his head.
Her face was pale.
“Were you very surprised?”
Cleore placed his hand on Isabella’s cheek.
Her body was icy cold.
Clara’s door demolition let the cold corridor air into Cleore’s room.
Cleore threw a cushion at Clara.
“A declaration of war!”
Clara swatted the cushion with her hammer.
It hit the wall, cracking it slightly.
Regardless, Cleore wrapped Isabella in a blanket.
Isabella, cocooned like a silkworm, looked at him in panic.
She had only meant to ask him to be quiet.
“Brother, what are you doing? You can’t treat Isabella so carelessly!”
“She’s tired. Go away.”
Huh?
Isabella hadn’t said that.
Clara and Angela looked at Isabella.
As if asking if it were true.
Isabella hesitated, unsure how to respond.
