Chapter 26
Angela’s proposal was far too dangerous.
He understood her desperation and impatience all too well.
For someone as hot-tempered as Angela, the fact that she had kept this to herself until now already showed remarkable restraint.
Even Viktor—who prided himself on having the strongest patience in the Empire—felt an urge to reveal everything whenever Isabella looked at their kindness with suspicion.
We were a family from the beginning.
You were a daughter-in-law we cherished more than our own eyes.
But they couldn’t do that.
Knowing everything was far more painful than one might think.
“Angela.”
Viktor called her name and knelt in front of her.
He placed his hands gently on her knees and looked up at her.
His green eyes were filled with love.
“The reason we planned a new life was not for Isabella’s happiness.”
Angela’s expression darkened.
“If Isabella were to learn the whole truth, she would try to take responsibility no matter what.”
She had always been a child with a strong sense of responsibility. She believed every misfortune was her own fault.
“At the very least, shouldn’t we give her time—time to accept us as her family not because of the past, but from her heart?”
Angela nodded.
Isabella had not fully recovered yet. Their previous life was a succession of events that would shock even a healthy person.
Angela fully agreed with Viktor that time was necessary.
Isabella was choosing a book among the maze-like shelves of the library.
Clara, who had been trailing after Isabella nonstop, decided she would try liking Isabella’s favorite author too and pulled out a book by George Owen.
Before long, she began nodding off, then stretched her legs out between the shelves and started snoring.
Surprisingly, the snoring sound—grrrk—didn’t feel disruptive in the quiet library.
Isabella looked down at Clara for a moment.
It almost sounded like laughter was coming from her sleeping face.
Even in her sleep, she was smiling brightly.
Clara applauded every small gesture Isabella made—her hand movements, her words, even the way she glanced at things.
That was always followed by praise like, “Sister, you’re the best!” or “You’re so beautiful it’s blinding!”
Isabella didn’t dislike Clara’s honesty and cheerfulness—things she herself lacked.
The time she’d expected to feel awkward with Clara turned out to be far more pleasant than she’d imagined.
She must be cold.
Perhaps Clara’s kindness had rubbed off on her.
Isabella removed her shawl and draped it over Clara’s knees.
“…!”
Her fingertips trembled as she let go of the shawl.
Isabella realized she wasn’t used to receiving kindness—but she wasn’t used to giving it either.
An unfamiliar emotion swirled in her chest.
Cleor paused in front of the library to steady his breathing.
It wasn’t because he was out of breath.
It was to calm his heart, which was pounding wildly at the thought that Isabella was inside.
He smoothed his disheveled hair and straightened his clothes.
Still, his heart refused to settle.
It couldn’t be helped.
Just thinking about being near her made him tremble to the point of losing his voice.
“Ahem.”
Worried he might startle Isabella, Cleor cleared his throat before opening the door.
The thick wooden door felt as light as paper to him.
Grrrk.
Cleor raised one eyebrow.
Had he misheard?
Grrrk.
As if mocking his doubt, the snoring came again.
Clara, you little—
Cleor immediately knew who the culprit was.
He had watched Isabella sleep countless times.
Isabella didn’t snore.
Is she looking around alone?
What if something happened?
Every place was dangerous—but the library was especially dangerous for Isabella.
She could strain herself trying to reach a high shelf, twist her ankle, stagger under the weight of a heavy book, or even cut her fingers turning pages.
Cleor frowned deeply.
Every possible scenario was bad.
He quickly scanned the library in search of Isabella.
Finding her was easy.
The library might feel vast to Isabella, but to Cleor—who roamed the entire North—it was no larger than the palm of his hand.
She was at the deepest part of the library.
Isabella was gazing at a book Viktor and Angela had said they acquired at great expense—one so valuable it was bound tightly with iron chains to prevent theft.
Her long, beautiful blonde hair flowed down her back like waves.
She wore a dress without a petticoat to keep herself light, which accentuated her graceful curves.
A sweet yet dangerous primal sensation stirred within him.
Without realizing it, Cleor reached out toward Isabella.
“Isabella.”
He called her name in a voice stiff with tension.
“…!”
Startled, Isabella turned abruptly and lost her balance.
Cleor instinctively wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her toward him.
Their bodies pressed closely together.
Isabella’s eyes widened dramatically.
Her face flushed bright red.
“Did I startle you?”
Isabella nodded, unable to speak.
“Did you not sense me coming?”
“There wasn’t a sound at all.”
“Ah…”
That was because the moment he saw her, he couldn’t even breathe.
“…Would you let go of me?”
Isabella clasped her hands against her chest.
Her heart was beating so violently she thought the sound might echo in her head.
They were too close.
Seen up close, Cleor was a perfect man.
Thick eyebrows, a high nose, and a strong, masculine jaw.
But more than anything, what shook Isabella’s heart was his scent.
The cool fragrance of the North.
“Are you in pain?”
Her heart hurt.
She wasn’t sure if this could even be called pain, but it was beating so fiercely she worried it might tear loose.
Isabella nodded.
She thought saying she was hurt would make him let go.
But instead of releasing her, Cleor held her even tighter.
“Lean on me.”
His voice was dangerously low.
“…I—I want to look at the book.”
Isabella made another excuse.
“The book you were looking at earlier?”
She nodded.
“I’ll get it.”
Cleor reached out.
Holding Isabella protectively in his arms, he unfastened the chains wrapped around the book.
Near her ear, she could hear his breathing—and the sound of metal loosening.
The contrast between his hot breath and the cold metallic clink sharpened all her senses.
Without realizing it, she shifted her weight naturally against him.
Cleor’s body was unbelievably comfortable.
Is this addiction?
Before she knew it, Isabella had completely adjusted to him.
It felt as if they were the only two people in the library.
As Cleor moved his hand behind her back to pull out the book, his muscles twitched subtly.
Every one of her senses was open only to him.
So she didn’t notice—
That Clara’s snoring had stopped.
Thud.
A book fell to the floor.
Startled, Isabella reflexively pushed Cleor away.
Clara.
Cleor didn’t need to look back to know who was there.
Clara was radiating a terrifying presence.
“If someone sees us like this, they’ll misunderstand,” Isabella whispered.
“Misunderstand what?”
What was wrong with a man and woman who were going to be married embracing?
“And Clara is still young…”
“You make it sound as though we’re having some scandalous secret affair.”
At the word affair, Isabella’s face reddened.
Cleor lowered his lips toward her ear.
“Isabella, Clara isn’t as innocent as you think—far beyond what you imagine…”
“Barbarian!”
He had almost revealed Clara’s true nature, but alas.
Cleor fell silent.
Clara shouted furiously.
“You hugged my sister again without asking, didn’t you? Men always think women will swoon if they just use brute strength. Muscle-brained idiots.”
Cleor paid no attention to Clara’s accusations.
Isabella was in his arms.
Clara couldn’t see Isabella at all, hidden behind him.
Just knowing she was there—his alone—made his heart feel full, as if he had everything.
“Please…”
Regardless of his feelings, Isabella looked uncomfortable.
Cleor loosened his hold.
Isabella slipped out of his arms.
At that moment, the chains tangled around the book were fully undone.
“I don’t care to be criticized by someone who snores in the library.”
Cleor placed the book into Isabella’s hands.
“Is this the one?”
His voice was gentle—completely different from when he scolded Clara.
“Yes. This is the book I wanted to see. May I borrow it?”
“Of course.”
“Obviously!”
For once, the siblings agreed.
“Everything here—”
“All the books in this place—”
Annoyed that they spoke at the same time, they glared at each other.
Then, together, they said—
“They’re all yours, Isabella.”
“They’re all yours, Sister.”
Isabella’s chest stirred.
She hugged the book tightly to her heart.
Isabella lay on her bed and pulled the bell cord.
“Did you call for me?”
“Could you light the lamp?”
Betty lit the lamp and set it on the bedside table.
A soft orange glow gently pushed away the darkness in the room.
“Did you wake up? Shall I warm some milk for you?”
Isabella smiled awkwardly.
Seeing Cleor leave earlier, it was natural for Betty to assume Isabella had been asleep.
In truth, Isabella had only pretended to sleep because she felt awkward around him.
“No, I’m fine.”
“Call me if you need anything else.”
After checking the fireplace and brazier, Betty left.
Once Isabella confirmed she was gone, she pulled the book resting by her pillow onto her lap.
It was the book she had brought from the library.
Bound in thick leather, it bore the full weight of time.
It looked to be several hundred years old.
There was no explanation written anywhere in the book.
In the library, the book had called to Isabella.
A purely instinctive pull.
She couldn’t stop her hand from reaching toward it.
