Chapter 24

“…Thank you for letting me confirm.”

Edith spoke in a relatively calm voice as she picked up the blanket she had dropped and covered herself. Dawn had already broken, filling the room with a bluish light.

“Are you disappointed?”

At the man’s question, Edith shook her small face gently.

“No.”

“Then?”

“I don’t know.”

Edith spoke her feelings honestly enough. It might have seemed a bit irresponsible, but it was true. She could not discern what her current emotions were—whether it was disappointment, relief, acceptance, or denial.

“There’s clearly no trace of Maximilian in you. And you said you’re not him either.”

So, he really isn’t Maximilian. Maximilian must be at rest, not in pain.

“But you look so much like him… no, exactly like him.”

How could someone who looked like him not be Maximilian…?

“That’s why I don’t know.”

The scale in her mind, with acceptance on one arm and denial on the other, could not tilt either way and remained perfectly balanced.

Still…

“I’ll try to accept it. Sorry for being stubborn.”

With a dry sigh, Edith took a step back and turned away. She deliberately avoided the man’s gaze, feeling it on her skin.

There was no sadness or heartache anymore. A moment ago, perhaps there had been, but now there was nothing. Her mind had quickly regained its brittle calm.

In truth, Edith was somewhat used to these situations. It had happened often. Recently, she had gotten better, but there was a time when merely seeing a tall man with black hair could make her stop in her tracks—unable to believe that he was truly gone, based only on what she had heard…

There were even times when she had called his name and followed, climbing and falling repeatedly on the blind hope of longing, even while knowing in her heart it wasn’t him.

‘Even so, this time was a bit extreme.’

Her frequently falling heart had been broken, damaged, and healed repeatedly, until it was hard to recognize its original shape. That wasn’t entirely bad, though. The callouses that had thickened over time made Edith more resilient. She had grown numb to this kind of wound.

By then, she had reached the bed. Still, she could not bring herself to sit or lie down. Everything suddenly felt overly conspicuous. Even though the circumstances were unavoidable, being in a room like this with a man who wasn’t Maximilian felt awkward. Ironically, everything had been fine when she thought it was Maximilian, but now knowing it wasn’t made her instantly uncomfortable.

Edith touched the clothes hanging on the side of the bed. As expected, they were not dry. Not just damp, they were still wet. She gripped the blanket in her hand tighter.

It was then that a faint laugh cut through the silence. Edith turned her head from the clothes toward the man who had spoken. He was closer than she expected. It took her a moment to realize that he was walking toward her. His cold, intense gaze froze her in place.

Jeckart closed the deliberately maintained distance in an instant and roughly grabbed her slender wrist just as she tried to pull back.

“Ah!”

With a short cry, her fragile body twisted as she was pulled into his arms. Even in that moment, she did not let go of the blanket, which made him feel even messier inside.

“Why are you… Let go of this…”

“You’re done with me now, aren’t you?”

Jeckart found the answer in the woman’s lips, which opened slightly to speak but then shut immediately, and he laughed disdainfully.

He had vaguely expected it. He knew her trembling voice and tender gaze were not directed at him. Yet seeing her change in demeanor made him feel dirty inside. Perhaps he had even hoped a little that it was for some other reason, just as he had no other reasons himself.

Just intoxicated by the atmosphere. Taken over by strange feelings. Swept away by impulses with no reason. Helplessly pulled, for no reason at all…

The endless stream of thought suddenly stopped there. Jeckart felt something hot surge within his chest. Something raw and unrefined.

The subtle change in his gaze made the woman flinch. They were close enough that their bodies nearly touched across the blanket, and he felt her shiver directly.

An awkward silence lingered between them. In the quiet, he thought of all the things he could do to her. Conveniently, the bed beside them was perfect for carrying them out.

Should I take her?

Jeckart lowered his hand and roughly cupped her cheek. With his thumb, he pressed against her trembling, red, full lips.

His thoughts were slow but persistent.

If these lips were to call my name…

Then, maybe this messy feeling would ease a little.

By the time his thoughts reached that point, Jeckart realized how close their breaths were, tangled together. He realized it was because he had lowered his head while holding her chin.

“…Don’t… do this.”

In his grasp, the woman was crying.

Shasha found a strange note in the living room that morning. There were no additional words—only an unknown address written plainly on the paper, placed conspicuously on the table. The initials at the bottom surprised Shasha.

‘E. L.’

As far as Shasha knew, only one person had those initials.

Edith Lindel—the one whose disappearance last night had left everyone anxiously waiting.

Who had left it, and when, was unknown, but seeing those initials, Shasha immediately set out. Karon and Perel did not follow. Stifts had been deployed throughout the city overnight. As Shasha was pregnant, she could avoid suspicion, but if Perel and Karon had accompanied her, the inspections would have been tricky, and even the most carefully forged IDs could have been exposed.

After passing a checkpoint at the square, Shasha boarded the waiting handsome cab. She showed the driver the address, and the carriage began heading toward the outskirts. The scenery outside blurred past, reflecting in her tense eyes.

After about thirty minutes, the cab reached the destination. The address on the note belonged to an old inn at the edge of Bellen—not quite the outskirts, but close. Shasha asked the driver to wait and held back her quickening steps as she opened the inn door.

The innkeeper, dozing at the counter, sat up groggily. When Shasha mentioned the room number, the woman pointed to the stairs with a nod. Each step creaked under her weight as she climbed.

‘Could Edith really be here? How did she get here in the middle of the night? All checkpoints in Bellen, including the city hall, were sealed…’

Full of questions, Shasha arrived at the indicated room. Before knocking, she wiped her sweaty palms on her skirt.

‘Please, let her be here. And let this mission end without anyone having to sacrifice themselves.’

With a prayer in her heart, Shasha knocked on the old wooden door.

At first, there was silence. After a few more knocks, a presence was sensed from behind the door. Shasha’s ears were straining.

The door slowly opened. Through the slightly ajar door with a chain still on, she saw eyes full of caution.

“Edith!”

“Come upstairs and rest, Edith.”

Shasha spoke as she returned with the handsome cab. Edith nodded with a tired smile. Shasha watched her ascend to the second floor for a while.

Something had clearly happened.

The vague guess she had formed became a little clearer.

Edith hadn’t spoken a word during the journey back. In the brief conversation in the inn room, all Shasha could understand was that she had been injured, had escaped with help from someone unknown, and regained consciousness here.

Well, that was technically true, but for Shasha, who didn’t know the full story, it was hard to understand. What troubled Shasha most was the small, muttered words Edith had spoken about the “someone unknown.”

‘I should have asked her name… I should have.’

The voice had been almost inaudible, weak, dry, and lonely—like a leaf shriveled on an autumn day.