Chapter 28
Owen’s voice was so soft that if I didn’t focus, I might not have caught it.
“At the ducal estate…”
I tensed, straining to listen. At the ducal estate?
“…Is there anything you’d like to change?”
“Anything I’d like to… change?”
What kind of question was that?
As I blinked in the dark—he probably couldn’t even see me—he added,
“Yes, Sophia. If there’s anything you dislike, or… anything you’d like more of.”
“Well…”
If I were being honest, everything was already perfect. The bedroom matched my tastes completely. The estate was large and well-kept. Even the meals showed incredible attention to detail.
At first, I thought he’d gone this far just to make sure I’d never want to leave.
But he hadn’t asked, Do you like it here? Instead, he asked if I wanted to “change” something. It felt like I should come up with an answer.
But I really didn’t have one. What should I say?
After a long pause, I finally said,
“I’ll think about it.”
Owen looked pleased with that answer.
“Yes, Sophia.”
He slowly closed his eyes, then opened them again—still just watching me.
Owen at night felt different from Owen in the day. During the day, he carried a playful mask, like a thin veil. But at night, that mask seemed gone.
And I realized something.
Even though we were lying close, he hadn’t tried to touch me. Not once. In fact, he was lying as close to the edge of the bed as possible, as if making sure we wouldn’t touch. This, after joking earlier that he’d ordered the bed smaller on purpose.
To be honest, I’d expected something else. With the lights off, once Arne had fallen asleep, I thought he’d find some excuse to get closer. I had been tense, waiting for it.
But instead… there was caution in him.
Why?
Ah.
I quickly realized the reason. I’d gotten to know him a little these past few days, and the answer came easily.
He was clever. He understood me.
He knew that, for me, sharing a bed wasn’t something that felt “natural” yet. He knew that if he moved too fast, I’d bolt. And he also knew that I could leave—because I had the means, the status, and the will to do it.
A warm, unfamiliar feeling spread through me.
Even though he was afraid I might fly away, he didn’t try to hold me down. He didn’t trap me. He didn’t build a cage. And ironically, that was exactly why I didn’t want to leave.
And he knew it. And I knew he knew.
Goodness.
I almost felt like I could fly into the night sky. For some reason, that thought made me strangely giddy.
…But wait.
If that was the case, then why had Owen knocked and insisted on coming into my room in the first place? He could have just let me and Arne sleep together. Instead, here he was, awkwardly stuck at the edge of the bed.
I glanced at Arne. He wasn’t in my arms anymore—Owen had quietly pulled him into his own.
That’s when my lips moved on their own.
“Did the ducal family… investigate Arne’s identity?”
I whispered softly so as not to wake him.
In the dark, Owen’s eyes closed. The faint glint I had seen disappeared.
“Owen?”
At my call, he opened his eyes again.
I was nervous—because I knew this was important. But he seemed nervous too. Excited, maybe. Or simply unable to hide his emotions for once.
When he finally spoke, his voice was calm again—but the words were unexpected.
“…May I hold your hand?”
“…What?”
The man who usually kissed me so boldly in daylight was asking this? My reply came out sharper than I meant.
Hesitant, he added, his voice low and echoing like in a cave:
“Your voice in the dark… it feels like a dream.”
I froze and missed my chance to answer. He panicked and said quickly,
“If you don’t want—”
Without thinking, I grabbed his hand.
“!”
Too hard. Surprised by myself, I let go—then slowly placed my hand back on top of his.
His skin was smooth but firm, the veins standing out under my palm. I knew he was waiting for me to settle my fingers fully.
So I did—slowly laying them down until my whole hand rested on his.
For some reason, my toes curled under my nightdress.
He turned his hand, intertwining our fingers so our palms pressed together. His grey eyes stayed locked on mine, but I noticed a different light flicker there. My toes curled tighter. All we’d done was hold hands, yet my heart raced like something more might happen.
I whispered,
“So? Does it feel real now?”
He paused, then chuckled softly.
“The more real it feels… the harder it is to believe.”
His grip tightened, his thumb brushing the back of my hand, tickling gently.
“Sophia.”
He closed his eyes, then whispered again.
“Sophia.”
“Yes, Owen.”
“Sophia.”
I murmured,
“If you say it one more time, I’ll smack you.”
I meant it. Thankfully, he understood and quickly changed the subject.
“What do you think of Lady Eloise?”
I hadn’t expected him to bring her up—but of course, Eloise was the only clue about Arne’s past.
Still, it wasn’t a difficult question.
“She’s not so different from what you know. Eloise ta Bartoli—the genius, and the eccentric. The youngest of us three sisters, she inherited the most musical talent from the family. But geniuses always have a streak of madness. Hers was… strong enough that she somehow went and gave her older sister a son.”
But it wasn’t that Eloise lacked thought. Far from it.
Owen nodded.
“Yes, Sophia. Your sister never told me Arne’s true identity. I figured there must be a reason. There had to be, especially since Arne remembered nothing.”
“Well…”
I almost said you shouldn’t trust her too much. Because Eloise had never revealed where she’d found Arne either.
Owen continued in his deep voice,
“But Lady Eloise cares for you. So I judged that the child she sent couldn’t be one that would harm you. Still…”
Anyone can be wrong.
He didn’t finish, but I understood.
“Oh…”
I realized why he had risked coming to my room tonight, even if it might anger me.
Because he still couldn’t trust Arne completely.
I rubbed my knees together unconsciously, a chill running through me. The blanket rustled softly.
But I didn’t think Owen was wrong to be cautious. If anything, I was the strange one—for so easily accepting an unknown boy as my son just because my sister said so.
“…”
Still, I trusted my instincts.
Every time I looked at Arne, I felt an odd familiarity. A strange comfort, as if he wasn’t a stranger at all. As if he could never harm me.
I wanted to defend him. So I asked, after some thought,
“Did you at least check the letter Eloise sent?”
In the dark, Owen’s voice answered,
“Yes. That was our only clue, so we had no choice. On the small chance Lady Eloise was in danger…”
He trailed off, checking my face. I quickly nodded.
“I think that was wise.”
“The handwriting showed no signs of being forced. The strokes were steady, and there was no hidden code in the letter.”
As I’d expected.
Even at a glance, it was obvious. Her pen pressure had been even, her writing smooth.
And Eloise herself had driven the point home by casually sending it along with my birthday gift.
“I’ll send Eloise a letter myself.”
Surely she didn’t expect me to sit quietly. But of course, she wouldn’t be caught easily either.
Owen asked curiously,
“Do you know where she is?”
“Not yet. But… I’ll find out soon.”
He looked as though he wanted to ask more, but I didn’t explain. It wasn’t the right time to bring up Bambi.
Sleepiness began to press down on me. My eyelids grew heavy, swollen from crying earlier. No doubt they’d be puffy again in the morning.
As I drifted off, I murmured,
“Good night… Owen…”
“…Yes, Sophia.”
A sudden thought struck me. Owen was lying in such an uncomfortable position, all the way at the edge of the bed.
I’d meant to say something earlier, but lost my chance.
“It’s… uncomfortable at the edge. You can… come closer…”
But I wasn’t sure if he heard me—because before I could finish, I’d already fallen asleep.
