Chapter 42
“Miss, does it not bother you to kiss someone you don’t even like?”
Layla stared blankly at Rainier. She couldn’t tell whether he was talking about the current situation or about what happened with Sonnet.
Then she decided he must be referring to Sonnet, and for some reason, she didn’t feel like answering. His gaze was too serious—if she lied, she felt he would see right through her.
“What about you, Rain?”
“I don’t think it’s meaningful.”
“You mean kissing?”
“No. I mean physical intimacy without love.”
Layla felt strangely unsettled, as if he were telling her to give up on Sonnet.
“Who was your first kiss?”
“…”
He kept his mouth shut, clearly unwilling to answer.
In that moment, Layla began to feel as though he were a familiar person, different from before.
“I believe in destiny, Rain.”
She said this as if to wrap herself and Sonnet up in the word “destiny.”
“I believe in it too. But destiny is something you carve out for yourself.”
And just like that, Rainier’s words cut hers off.
Layla, tipsy from the alcohol, felt everything blur. Their lips brushed slightly with each word they spoke, yet she felt nothing about it. If anything, Rainier seemed the one who couldn’t stay unaffected.
“I see.”
She tried to lean back in frustration, but she was already lying on the bed and couldn’t move away further. The tips of their noses brushed; the fine hairs on her skin tickled from his breath. Somehow, that made her feel a little more sober.
“Why did you stop me from kissing Sonnet?”
“You cried, yet it seems you regret not finishing that kiss.”
She thought about saying more, but she had the oddest feeling—like he was the one who had been crying.
His eyes weren’t wet, and his expression was cold. But somehow, it still felt like he was crying.
“Don’t cry, Rain.”
He sighed. That sigh only confirmed her hunch.
“If you don’t want me to cry, Miss, then you’ll have to be more proper.”
“I’m quite proper, actually. Properly, I’ll marry Sonnet.”
“Would a proper lady kiss someone before the engagement ceremony?”
“Everyone around me is scandalous, you see.”
When she laughed and said that, his expression shifted as if life had returned to him. He tried to lift his head from where it had been bent toward her. Layla loosened her arms from around his neck, expecting him to move away.
But contrary to her expectations, he didn’t. Instead, he took her hand, interlaced his fingers with hers, and pressed them down.
“Do you like him so much that you want to give him your first kiss?”
“Sonnet?”
“Yes.”
Even though he was pinning her down in what might look threatening, she didn’t feel threatened at all—just curious why he was acting like this.
In the original novel, it was much later before he fell for Siber. And since the original plot had already changed, there was a high chance that could change too.
More than that, the current Siber thought of Rainier—whom he considered a commoner—with something close to contempt.
“So what if I do?”
Oddly, she felt like she had the upper hand here. He almost seemed like he was pleading with her.
“I see.”
With that, he immediately released her and sat up.
“Rain.”
“Yes.”
As he was about to leave, Layla called out to him.
“Thanks for helping me earlier. And good night.”
She lay properly in Siber’s bed, pulled the sheets up to her neck, and closed her eyes.
“…Yes. You too, Miss.”
His sulky voice seemed even hazier in her alcohol-fogged mind.
Layla fell asleep surprisingly quickly.
And now she was dreaming.
It was the same man from her previous dream.
“I was your first kiss.”
“I see. I was your first too.”
“Don’t lie. I know you dated several men before meeting me.”
She watched as he gently tucked her pink hair back over her shoulder.
She still couldn’t see his face, but his large hands and tender voice felt strangely familiar.
“So you don’t have to lie for my sake. Even if you dated and kissed plenty of others before me… it’s fine.”
“Why is it fine?”
“Because I’ll be your last man.”
His expression—pretending to be fine while clearly not—was so amusing that she laughed without meaning to.
“Isn’t that something you can’t know for sure?”
“…It can’t be something I don’t know.”
Then, as if he couldn’t hold back anymore, he pulled her into his arms. Dream-Layla didn’t seem startled at all, instead melting into the embrace as though she liked it.
The more she nestled into him, the tighter he held her, inhaling deeply.
She liked the feeling of him pressing his nose into her crown and exhaling, so she stayed like that.
They were in what seemed like a back garden.
When she realized it was a garden full of blooming peonies, the gentle breeze carried their fragrance deep into her lungs.
“I really was a first kiss too.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really. What about you… was it really your first?”
With a teasing tone, she pulled away from him. Then, smiling brightly, she looked at him standing in the sunlight.
“If it was, how did you do it so well? When I kissed you, I really enjoyed it.”
Her face was flushed, but his was even hotter. She cupped his cheek with her hand.
He listened quietly, then finally spoke.
“I love you, Layla.”
And in that moment, she woke up.
It was the first time someone had called her name in a dream.
“Ah…”
Awake, she felt oddly strange—like the lingering effects of being too immersed in a dream.
—Rustle.
“Rain?”
She spoke at the sound of the carpet being stepped on.
“Yes.”
“Didn’t you leave earlier?”
“I did.”
In the dim room, she frowned at the sight of Rainier standing there in more casual clothes than before.
“What exactly are you, Rain? Why do you always show up when I cry?”
“Did you cry just now?”
“…Uh… I don’t know.”
“Why did you cry?”
For a moment, she couldn’t understand why she had been crying.
“What dream did you have?”
The instant she looked at Rainier, she forgot her dream entirely.
Whenever a dream began, she would realize she’d had the same dream before. But once she woke up, the details became hazy—or vanished altogether.
“I don’t know.”
“You must’ve slept well. That happens when you do.”
Knowing he was a quack, she decided not to engage further and gave a little laugh.
“I’d prefer if you told me how you manage to show up whenever I cry.”
“That’s just how it is. When you cry, I end up nearby. It’s not my will.”
“Are you not human?”
“I am.”
“Then how is that possible?”
“It’s possible because I’m human.”
She stared at him, baffled.
In her previous life, she’d read plenty of fantasy novels. But in The End of Waiting, the book she was in now, she didn’t recall any such setting.
She sighed, deciding not to overthink it. After all, she’d died and come back in time—stranger things could exist.
“Rain, if Hugo’s trading company collapses, will you go back?”
“No.”
“Then what will you do in half a year?”
“I’ll achieve my goal and return before then.”
Curious at how readily he answered, she kept questioning him.
“What’s that goal?”
Even in the dark, his vivid red eyes shone like the sun through a telescope filter—the only light in the darkness.
“Do you think I’d tell you?”
Though his tone was cold, he came over and sat beside her, opening his bright red book.
“Go to sleep.”
“Fine. If you don’t want to tell me, then don’t.”
Thanks to the alcohol, she fell asleep quickly this time—without dreaming.
As Layla snored drunkenly, Rainier let out a disbelieving chuckle.
“Even if you don’t see me as a man, still…”
The sound of her loud snores filled the room.
“You’re even snoring now.”
Finding his own comment amusing, he chuckled again.
“Asking who my first kiss was… you’re cruel.”
Then, scowling again, he returned to reading.
“Pirates!”
Because Hugo’s trading company had been losing shipments to storms, he had boarded the ship himself this time.
This trip, they had even borrowed Siber’s dowry to purchase goods.
When they departed from Bern Bay, the weather had been perfect—almost as if heaven was on his side.
This time, he was determined to restock properly and make up for the losses. He was so excited that the sailors were equally fired up.
But then—
“Pirates! Prepare for battle!”
A pirate ship flying a black flag was approaching from afar.
—Boom! Crash!
And it was bringing a thunderstorm with it.
“What the hell!”
Hugo stood on deck, glaring at the pirate ship.
And then—
At the wheel stood a man with jet-black hair and red eyes. Someone he knew all too well.
“Why the hell is that doctor there?!”
Hugo roared in fury.
