Chapter 16
‘Behave properly. You know your place.’
‘I know it better than anyone. I just don’t understand why you’re going out of your way for something even Father gave up on.’
‘At your age, you’re still playing around with romance?’
‘If we’re talking about experience, you’re in no position to lecture me, Duke.’
Cordelia had jabbed at him, mocking his infamous past as a womanizer before marriage. She thought she’d landed a good hit, but of course, a man as slippery as him didn’t back down easily.
‘But I got married. You didn’t.’
He had married the woman chosen by the Duke at the age of twenty-one in a political arrangement. Using that as leverage, he now tried to make Cordelia comply. She responded coolly.
‘I told you I’ll get married eventually. The timing’s up to me.’
‘And when exactly is “eventually”? I told you to stop being childish. Do you think you’ll stay beautiful forever, even though you’re already well past the ideal age?’
That was the final straw. The lid that had barely stayed on Cordelia’s temper popped off with a snap. The servants all flinched in fear at the bright smile spreading across her lips.
She had worn that same smile when she chopped off her own hair at age ten.
‘Oh, really?’
Cordelia responded lightly and stepped inside to pull out a large bag made of silk. She opened her desk drawer and began sweeping everything into the bag indiscriminately. It was only then that Frederick, sensing danger, finally spoke.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’
‘Getting ready to leave this damned house, just like you wanted. Take care.’
Without hesitation, Cordelia left the duke’s estate. She felt sorry for the desperate servants trying to stop her, but it couldn’t be helped. Not wanting anyone to know her destination, she flagged down a carriage.
“That was a perfect excuse to leave, at least. But seriously, it’s ridiculous. Just because he got married, I have to too? He only did it to inherit the title!”
Frederick didn’t even pretend to stop her. He was probably assuming she’d still show up for her older sister’s birthday next week. That made it worse—because he was right. How irritating. She really hated clever people sometimes.
Well… except for her sister.
“You’re right. What matters most is what you want, Lady Cordelia.”
Noah’s calm voice was soothing, even as she complained bitterly right beside him. When she had first told him about her family, he hadn’t suggested she reconcile or said something sentimental like, But they’re still your family…
Instead, he had simply said:
‘It’s already something that you haven’t cut ties.’
Cordelia had thought she’d misheard him. From the way he talked about his own mother, she had expected a softer, more forgiving tone. But no—he had been matter-of-fact.
Which only made him more likable. The more she got to know him, the harder it became to keep her distance.
“It’s not that I don’t want to get married.”
She hastily added that in case she sounded too flippant. Noah tilted his head.
“Is that so?”
“Yeah. I want to marry someone I really love. Spending your whole life with someone isn’t easy, you know?”
To be honest, she wasn’t confident she wouldn’t grow tired of someone. She’d dated plenty, but none of those relationships had lasted. If she were forced into a political marriage, she’d accept it—but as long as she had a choice, she wanted to be careful.
Cordelia raised her knees and quietly counted on her fingers as she murmured.
“I want to date and get married. But not with just anyone. I want someone who feels special. Is that so wrong? Whenever I say that, people say I sound like a child. Like, ‘You can’t have it all.’”
Noah plucked a flower nearby as he listened.
“I’m actually very eager. But my emotions just don’t keep up. I’ve tried adjusting myself to make things work, but it always ends. I can’t accept things that feel fundamentally wrong to me.”
No matter how much she wanted a relationship to last, flaws eventually became visible. She tried resolving them through conversation, but some relationships just couldn’t be salvaged.
She had truly liked the people she dated. So why did they all end the same? Cordelia sighed, thinking of Edward—the last person she’d broken up with.
“Lady Cordelia.”
“Hmm?”
“May I see your hand?”
Why? Still, she offered it without hesitation. Noah took off the glove on her right hand and gently moved her fingers. A moment later, Cordelia’s eyes widened as she saw a white flower ring now on her ring finger.
“This is…”
“It’s pretty. That’s all.”
He didn’t say much, but Cordelia could feel his quiet comfort. Looking at her blankly, Noah added softly:
“Don’t worry so much. I’m sure you’ll find that special someone.”
“And how can you be so sure?”
“Because you’re trying.”
His serious voice landed gently in her ears. He wasn’t particularly eloquent, but he had a way of making people listen.
“Isn’t it natural that those who actively seek are more likely to find what they want, rather than just waiting for fate to come? That’s what I believe.”
Why does he always say exactly what I want to hear? Cordelia’s throat tightened, but she played it cool and lightly tapped Noah’s shoulder.
“It’s been a while since someone called it effort.”
“‘A while’…?”
“Most people call it being unladylike.”
Noah smiled, the corners of his lips lifting gently, and replied without looking away.
“Well… just as paints come in many colors, everyone has their own story. Who are we to judge someone else’s life?”
There was a faint shadow in his eyes as he mumbled. His face was full of melancholic depth, as if he hadn’t quite filtered out his inner anguish.
“And maybe… I’m even more extreme than you, Lady Cordelia.”
“Hmm?”
“I’m someone who can never compromise on the kind of beauty I seek.”
That firm answer caught her off guard. Under her curious gaze, Noah looked ahead. The wide, open view filled his blue eyes.
“You see… I believe beautiful things bring joy and comfort to people’s hearts. Capturing a moment in time is wonderful. But beauty is subjective, so I constantly worry—how can I make something that more people find beautiful? Is it okay if it’s only beautiful to me?”
It sounded like he was saying: I’m worse than you, so you’re fine. Cordelia suddenly thought of a silly question.
“Then… how do I look in your eyes?”
Noah turned his head slowly and looked at her. Meeting her expectant gaze, he whispered inwardly:
Eternal.
Relieved that she hadn’t changed. Instead of speaking his truth, he offered practiced compliments.
“You, Lady Cordelia, are so beautiful there’s hardly a need to say it.”
He had changed so much that he could no longer tell her how he felt. Too much time had passed. He was no longer a child, and he couldn’t live selfishly forever.
He never wanted her to know. So he kept his distance.
He knew even this was more than he deserved. He was disgusted with himself for secretly being happy about something that would shock her. Yet he smiled gently, suppressing the ache in his chest like he always did.
“…Yeah? Well, I am beautiful!”
Though slightly disappointed by Noah’s response, Cordelia joked anyway. She never turned down a compliment—her blushing face broke into a bright smile as she looked at him.
Noah especially liked her eyes—the royal blue that reminded him of the sky above. The way their color shifted with her emotions fascinated him. It was living proof that life was change.
The whispering wind, the faint bitter scent in the air, the green forest and the blue sky, and the woman at the center of it all…
A vivid feeling rushed down Noah’s spine. He knew—he would never forget this scene.
He had to preserve it. The need was overwhelming.
That night…
Under the dim glow of floating lanterns, a man battled a giant canvas. Using scattered memories, he struggled to capture fleeting impressions on paper.
His hands moved rapidly, constructing the layout and filling in details—as if racing against time. His blue eyes glinted with obsession, like a man possessed.
It wasn’t until dawn that he finally finished painting the eyes with blue paint. The brush fell from his hand. The morning sun broke through the window, illuminating the painting.
He slumped into a chair and stared blankly at the completed piece. All that remained was for it to dry. He quietly rubbed his face with dry hands.
Then suddenly, he grabbed a brush stained with black paint and moved to strike the painting.
The brush froze just inches from the canvas. One more motion would ruin everything—but in the end, he exhaled deeply.
“Stop.”
His dry voice split the quiet dawn. As he looked at the woman’s bright smiling face in the painting, Noah thought without realizing:
I miss you.
Then he chuckled bitterly. It hadn’t even been a day since they parted, and he already missed her terribly. He really was hopeless.
Fatigue overwhelmed him. The brush dropped to the floor, and he closed his eyes to rest.
Sunlight poured over his eyelids.
“Ugh…”
He didn’t want to get up, but the sun was persistent. As he slowly opened his eyes, the hazy room came into focus.
Blinking, he saw the messy room, the bright sunlight, and most of all—the large canvas dominating his vision.
He looked down at his hands, stained with paint. His hair fell like curtains over his face. Everything was too vivid to deny.
“AAAAHH!”
With a scream, Cordelia clutched her face—or rather, Noah’s face.
“What the hell?!”
“Our bodies switched again?!”
And there was only one day left until the ball.
