‘If he’s going to say something sweet, he should at least try not to look so awkward about it.’
Offering comfort didn’t come naturally to him.
But realizing I wasn’t the only one feeling awkward somehow made my heart warm again. Practically jogging to keep up with his long strides, I spoke in a bright voice.
“Thank you… for coming to get me.”
At my words, Dante’s thick eyebrows arched slightly. With that expressionless face, he replied flatly,
“After listening to your sob story for over an hour, picking you up is the least I could do.”
“T-That’s a lie, right?”
Crying to a total stranger for over an hour? That just didn’t seem possible. Dante answered without a hint of emotion.
“It’s true.”
“….”
“Want me to show you my cloak with your snot still on it?”
“A-Ah, no! Please forget about it! Just throw it away! I’ll make you a new one!”
A cloak with snot on it—what kind of horror story was that? And why on earth was he still keeping it?
Face flushed bright red, I frantically waved my hands. Dante said nothing and just kept walking. Somehow, his silence made it feel like he didn’t believe a word I’d said, so I kept talking to his back, as if to prove myself.
“I wasn’t lying about making one. I’m good at sewing. My best skill is knitting, though.”
“….”
“E-Every year, I used to knit scarves and sweaters for Emil, you know? But he said he was sick of seeing me clutching my knitting basket. Isn’t that just too cruel?”
“….”
“T-That’s why I drank so much. I was upset. If he’d just told me honestly that it annoyed him, I wouldn’t have made anything in the first place. I-It’s awful, right? I even put so much thought into designing the patterns…”
As I rambled on with a flustered face, Dante suddenly stopped walking again. Thankfully, I had been keeping a safe distance this time, so I didn’t bump into his back.
“Why… why did you stop?”
Instead of answering, Dante handed me a handkerchief. Startled, I took it, and he said in his usual blunt tone,
“Just cry. I’m not good at comforting people, but I can listen.”
Only then did I realize I was crying.
‘Of course I’m crying.’
I pressed the handkerchief firmly to my eyes. In an instant, my tears soaked it, turning the fabric damp and warm.
The man with black hair and crimson eyes looked down at me with his usual blank expression.
And somehow, that indifference was more comforting than Emil’s false kindness ever had been.
‘Just for today… I’ll cry it all out. Then I’ll move on.’
I wasn’t alone anymore. That’s why I could still smile.
* * *
The very first thought Emil Kleene had upon waking that morning was,
‘My head hurts.’
He opened his eyes without surprise—this place was all too familiar. The room, decorated in deep green, was none other than his study.
And yet, today, his head throbbed as if it were splitting open.
As he pressed his fingers to his temple, a certain someone who hadn’t left her room the day before due to a headache came to mind.
‘I didn’t see Yvonne at all yesterday.’
Emil let out a sigh.
‘I always thought she was exaggerating when she said she had headaches. If it felt like this, I owe her an apology.’
Yvonne—always delicate and sweet like a young girl.
She had been frail since childhood. So over time, he’d begun to dismiss her complaints of illness. It had simply become routine.
‘I should apologize when I see her next.’
He imagined holding her slender hand tightly, pressing a kiss to her snow-white cheek, and watching her smile softly at him, just like always.
Just thinking of his lovely Yvonne made his body stir. Emil bit his lower lip—only for a slender arm to suddenly wrap around him from behind. A high, sultry laugh rang out.
“Still energetic, even in the morning? Didn’t last night satisfy you?”
“… Rossie.”
Rossiane. She had been his longtime friend.
The warmth of bare skin against his spread heat through his body. At times, that warmth had been a source of comfort—but not this time. Emil pushed Rossiane’s hand away with a cold voice.
“What are you doing here? Go back to your room.”
“How cold of you.”
Rossiane didn’t argue. Instead, she accepted the rejection with a wry smile.
“You were so sweet last night. Isn’t this a bit cruel?”
“I’m not being cruel. It’s in the contract.”
Emil didn’t say anything more. He simply reached for the shirt that had fallen nearby. Rossiane crossed her arms and scoffed.
“Contract? A contract that says you stop acting affectionate once the sun comes up?”
“Yes.”
“And how exactly do you plan to live like that? The sun rising doesn’t erase the fact that we had physical contact.”
“Only beasts keep going after morning.”
“Wow. Your mind is filthier than I thought. Should I tell Yvonne what you’re really like?”
“Shut your mouth. My head’s splitting open.”
She chuckled at his response. But Emil’s expression only hardened. Glaring at him with a slightly sulky face, Rossiane added,
“Don’t you think it’s about time you were a little nicer to me? You act all sweet like sugar to that clueless Yvonne, but why are you always so cold to me?”
“You and Yvonne are different.”
Emil’s response was as cold as steel, not allowing even a needle to slip through. Rossiane let out a dry laugh and snapped back.
“Ah, I see. That’s why you’re always the perfect gentleman around her, huh? Planning to marry her without ever telling her anything?”
“What exactly am I supposed to tell Yvonne?”
Watching Emil feign innocence, Rossiane pursed her lips in frustration.
“Well, you wouldn’t tell her anything, of course. I suppose it’s up to me then—to let her know what you like, how you like to be treated…”
“I told you to shut that mouth.”
When Emil snapped again with harsh words, Rossiane’s expression turned ice cold. Her voice dropped as she hurled a final remark and turned on her heel.
“You’ll regret treating me like this.”
“….”
With a sharp clack, she slammed the door behind her. Emil ran a hand through his hair in irritation. He had known Rossiane for a long time, but her mood swings were something he never quite got used to.
‘She’s the one who suggested this kind of relationship in the first place.’
Emil had been playing the role of the kind and proper man for as long as he could remember. And that habit carried over to Yvonne as well.
How could he possibly have liked the girl his father suddenly brought home one day? To make matters worse, his parents treated her with special care and attention.
〈Emil, we brought this child especially for you. Treat her like your real little sister. And one day, she must become your bride.〉
Bride? What a joke. Be nice to a girl who suddenly appeared and treat her like a little sister? It was laughable. But Emil acted kindly toward Yvonne in front of others, only to keep up the act of being a good child.
Yvonne, who never even imagined he harbored such twisted thoughts, simply adored him.
〈Emil is always so kind.〉
She was like a clueless girl who didn’t know the truth of a person’s heart. Watching her smile so innocently made his stomach twist in both annoyance and amusement.
‘Does she believe she’ll become my bride one day? Then what kind of face will she make when that hope is crushed?’
Emil wanted to see her break down in despair. His kindness was nothing more than a carefully constructed effort to savor that moment.
And the very first person to see through Emil’s intentions was Rossiane.
〈Wouldn’t it be even more fun to add a touch of jealousy? That naïve girl won’t be able to withstand the situation.〉
Rossiane had a lot in common with Emil. Above all, she wanted to spite the parents who had mapped out her marriage and future without her say.
‘Well, it’s not a bad idea.’
At first, Emil only wanted to toy with Yvonne—to see her cry in shock and betrayal, trembling from the pain.
But as time went on, Yvonne began to resemble the very image of a beautiful, ideal love. It was almost as if her parents had foreseen such a future from the start.
The day Emil, overwhelmed by pressure, finally proposed to Yvonne, he was taken aback by her hesitation to immediately accept. That small moment of reluctance felt like a warning—one he had given himself.
At some point, Emil had begun dreaming of a future with Yvonne as his wife.
‘…I don’t know anymore. I don’t know what I should do.’
Thinking about Yvonne made his head throb again. Emil pressed his palm against his forehead. Yvonne was still by his side—for now—and at the moment, his headache came first. Emil stepped out of the study.
A passing servant greeted him with a respectful bow.
“You’re awake, Young Master?”
“Yes,” Emil replied, leaning against the wall and pressing his fingers to his temples. “Could you prepare a bath for me?”
“Will you be dining first, sir?”
“My head hurts too much. I’d rather soak in warm water.”
“Understood.”
The study wasn’t far from Emil’s bedroom. As he walked across the grand corridor, his gaze lingered on the towering pillars. Slowly, the throbbing pain began to subside.
It dawned on him—he hadn’t seen Yvonne at all yesterday.
