Chapter 78
“If there’s nothing more you need of me, I’ll take my leave now.”
“…Do I look like a bear?”
Cayente had skipped lunch while clearing the stack of paperwork that piled up in his absence. Once he finally finished the urgent documents and lifted his head, the office was bathed in the sunset glow of the setting sun. Spotting the bear-shaped glass ornament placed beside the pen holder on his desk, he asked Henry, who was just about to leave the room.
“A bear?”
“Yulia said… I resembled a bear.”
“Ah, so that’s where that came from.”
Henry glanced at the bear ornament he had noticed earlier that morning when taking Cayente’s jacket and smiled quietly. It must have been something Yulia gave him after saying he didn’t suit such an item. Yet instead of stuffing it away in some drawer, Cayente had placed it right beside his pen holder where it was clearly visible, and Henry’s lips curved even higher.
He acted so indifferent, but clearly that wasn’t how he truly felt.
“Maybe she thought so because you’re big-built. You’ve got black hair and usually wear dark clothing, so perhaps she pictured a large, dark-furred bear.”
“A bear is an intimidating animal.”
“If I had to categorize you, doesn’t that fit? You don’t exactly look harmless like a dog or a cat. Bears are also known for their strength. She might have thought you were strong.”
Though being intimidating wasn’t inherently negative, Cayente’s expression didn’t look pleased, so Henry hurried to add more.
It seemed Cayente didn’t want Yulia to see him as threatening.
“Since it’s small, the ornament looks rather cute. Thinking that Madam chose this among many glass trinkets while thinking of you—it’s strangely heartwarming.”
“She wouldn’t think of me because it was cute.”
Cayente scoffed as if it were ridiculous, but his expression relaxed ever so slightly. Henry followed with a chuckle and asked,
“If you’re a bear, then what animal would Madam resemble? A lone bear looks rather lonely—if we placed an animal resembling Madam next to it, it’d look better.”
“…A sheep?”
“A sheep?”
Thinking of what animal Yulia resembled, puppies and kittens came to mind too, but since he’d recently visited a sheep ranch, a white sheep appeared in his head first—an animal with personality, yet so lacking in the ability to live independently that one had to tend to it in every way.
“I thought of a puppy.”
Strictly speaking, Yulia hadn’t gotten married because she lacked ability but because she made a choice for her family’s sake—but Cayente wanted her to stay dependent like that.
“A bear and a dog are natural enemies, aren’t they? A dog would stand up to a bear to protect its master.”
“That’s true, but a sheep and a bear sound too dangerous, don’t you think? Haha.”
Don’t worry—I won’t hurt you. Cayente wished that Yulia would continue to need his strength for everything and never think of leaving his side. Not that she would, and even if she tried, he had no intention of letting her go.
* * *
Worried she might cry again out of concern for her father if left alone at night, he returned home not too late—but strangely, the house was eerily quiet. He assumed she had gone to bed early. Otherwise, Yulia would have come out the moment she heard the carriage at the gate.
“What on earth…?”
Opening her bedroom door to at least see her sleeping face, Cayente was dumbfounded. Yes, she had gone to bed early—but not from sleepiness. From drunkenness.
Judging by the wine bottles scattered and the mess of wine stains, cheese, and crackers all over the table and floor, she had drunk quite a lot.
“You’re back, My Lord.”
“What happened?”
“She went to visit Luferga this afternoon, and afterward, she kept saying her chest felt tight. The physician came but said there was nothing wrong, so I offered her a little wine thinking it might help…”
Lucy, who had been scrubbing the floor near the table, stood awkwardly and replied. Spotting the wine stains on the carpet, Cayente sighed and asked,
“Hah… Did the Baroness spew nonsense again?”
“Well… she said the house was small and other things too, but Madam seemed most hurt because of the Baron.”
“The Baron?”
Hearing that from Lucy, Cayente let out yet another long sigh. His wife, forced into marriage for the sake of the family, still lost sleep over her father—yet that so-called mother had no thought whatsoever.
“Then rest, My Lord.”
After Lucy finished tidying and left, Cayente approached the bed where Yulia lay sleeping.
“I heard it was a marriage of love.”
The story that the Baroness had married against her family’s opposition after falling for the Baron’s eyes had been well known since Cayente’s childhood. Whether that love faded before poverty or simply faded over time, he didn’t know. But seeing Yulia hurt by such a person’s words angered him.
“She doesn’t even realize who’s enabling her life right now.”
Grinding his teeth, he briefly considered cutting off support this instant—but when he looked at Yulia’s shoulder glimmering under the moonlight, she looked far too pitiful.
Who was he to be angry? He was the one who had burdened those shoulders.
Thinking of how much of her current sadness was caused by him, he smiled bitterly and pulled the blanket up to cover her shoulder. At that moment, Yulia sensed movement and opened her eyes.
“It’s night. You can sleep more.”
Meeting Cayente’s eyes, Yulia began to cry silently. Her voiceless sobs were so full of sorrow that Cayente could only clench his lips.
Would she feel better if she at least knew the Baron was alive? The truth was… Cayente knew exactly where and how the Baron was living.
—Leave now.
—At least let me stay for my daughter’s wedding.
—If you don’t want to ruin the ceremony completely, leave now. If you disappear quietly, Yulia… at least Yulia, I will take full responsibility for.
The Baron hadn’t run away—Cayente had sent him off before the others could storm in. Originally, he had planned to let him be dragged out, to humiliate him in front of the bankers as he begged for a few days’ grace. But he worried about Yulia having to witness that.
If she saw that, she might have fainted right there and had to be carried to the Esacudia Duchy bedridden. In fact, even the priest’s marriage declaration, made to keep her standing, was unnecessary—since with the church’s approval, she would have been Countess Clu regardless. Making her stand before the priest was only because…
—By the authority of God’s servant, I hereby declare this marriage complete before all gathered to bless them.
He didn’t want her new beginning to be remembered only as chaos. He wanted her to enjoy every moment she would have had if things had gone right—even walking out hand-in-hand to the blessings of guests. She had fainted in the end… but still, that was his intent.
That was all Cayente could do for her—someone set on revenge.
That was all he could give to the woman who still smiled at him despite being so hurt.
Even if he meant to make her cry… somehow, seeing her cry, he no longer wanted to.
“Stop crying, will you? Didn’t you say you had plans tomorrow? You planning to show up with a swollen face?”
Even now, holding the very answer that could stop those tears, all Cayente could do was wipe them away.
“Hug me.”
“…What?”
“Hug me, Brother. Hug me.”
Whether she knew of his contradictory feelings—wanting not to make her cry yet inevitably doing so—Yulia grabbed the hand on her cheek and pleaded insistently. He had plenty of excuses—she hadn’t washed, he wasn’t in his right mind—but Cayente didn’t reject her touch.
“You asked for it.”
Removing his jacket and climbing onto the bed, he saw Yulia’s eyes curve into crescents in satisfaction. Cayente devoured her wine-reddened lips and sank into endless bliss.
* * *
Perhaps worried that Yulia had drunk too much, Lucy came early in the morning with tea—but froze the moment she opened the door.
“Oh my! Pardon me, My Lord. I didn’t know you slept here.”
“Turn around.”
“Yes!”
Though she regained consciousness at the sound of their voices, Yulia couldn’t bring herself to show she was awake. Hearing Cayente rustling as he dressed while sitting on the bed, embarrassment flooded her as she realized what she thought had been a dream was, in fact, real.
“Is there a reason to wake us so early?”
“His Majesty sent an invitation, having heard you returned from your trip yesterday. He wishes to have lunch together, so there’s much to prepare…”
“Let her sleep more. There’s no need to dress up.”
“Yes, My Lord.”
She wanted to deny it—but she couldn’t.
It had definitely been she who asked for that bed.
