Chapter 59
“…Ah.”
A single stream of a warm voice drifted toward her.
“…On-ah.”
The voice called out to her tenderly.
Seo-ah, who had been standing there with her thoughts pooling into a distant haze, forgetting even her purpose, lifted her eyes. And there, she faced a woman dressed in fine finery.
“…….”
A pale yellow jeogori, a light blue skirt that looked like the shallow sea on a clear day, a cherished amber norigae, and reddish danghye.
“Lift your head.”
At the gentle command, the finely dressed woman cautiously lifted her head and smiled. Behind her stretched the blue sea, sparkling under the transparent sunlight. The shadow of a seagull passing overhead, the sound of its cry, the crashing of the waves, and the wind tickling her face.
“There. I told you to walk with your head held high.”
It was the day after her coming-of-age ceremony. Women who had found a match would pin their hair up with a hairpin from that day on, but her hair was still parted behind her ears.
Even so, she was happy.
“You’re beautiful, …On-ah.”
A real name so precious she had only ever seen it written in ink. It was the first day she had been called by that name.
Seo-ah stared at the person calling her.
A person for whom white hemp clothes looked so wonderful. Someone who suited the blue sea so well.
The moment she saw her grandfather, the purpose that had drifted far away came rushing back.
The trembling in her fingertips gradually subsided.
Seo-ah looked at the woman standing against the backdrop of the blue sea. Because her name was precious, she had kept it tucked away quietly in her heart.
Yes….
Yes.
I am glad I left you behind.
With movements that were neither slow nor fast, Seo-ah began to undress.
She carefully removed the amber norigae and took off the pale yellow jeogori. She stepped out of the light blue skirt and removed the danghye she was wearing.
When she looked up again, the woman who had been smiling shyly against the blue sea was gone.
Below her prominent collarbones and shoulders, and beneath her modestly swelling breasts, the red danggi hung down. Seo-ah cautiously raised her hand and touched the end of the ribbon. The danggi, which had been barely hanging on, unraveled limply.
She smoothed the wrinkles of the crumpled ribbon with her palm. She stroked it again and again, brushing away the days that she had thought were only difficult, but in hindsight, were filled with hidden happiness. Then, she folded the danggi neatly, placed it atop her folded clothes, and turned away.
Before lingering affection could bring forth hesitation.
Before hesitation could bring forth fear and finally swallow her whole.
Oscar, who had been leaning askew against the window frame, put yet another cigarette to his lips—he had lost count of how many he’d had.
“If you smoke at this rate, you’ll lose your health before long.”
He had frowned at the remark, unsure whether to take it as a worry or a curse.
“What do you want me to do about it?”
Barbara had merely taken the ashtray and offered no reply. And after that one time, she never said such a thing again.
Oscar lit the cigarette. If his health withered away just as the cigarette burned down, his mother would likely be pleased. Everything in Lichtenhardt would become hers, after all.
As the acrid smoke filled his lungs and drifted out again, Oscar glanced down at himself and let out a hollow laugh.
The desire, which had hardened and swollen to a loathsome degree, was reaching the point of aching.
His reason was arguing that his current behavior was madness.
She was a suspicious woman, though he was grateful she had brought the key.
She claimed her motive was money, but he had no intention of believing that at face value. That was why he had ordered a background check on her and attached Abel to her as both collateral and a watchdog to report her every move.
So far, there were no special circumstances.
Abel’s reports were trivial. She went out every day, but it was usually just to the market, and Abel was to blame for what happened today. The reports from the Wolves dispatched to the woman’s hometown had not yet arrived, but he intended to ignore them as long as they didn’t harm him. The important thing was opening the vault in Pelfe.
Oscar’s eyes sank deep as he smoked.
It would have been less suspicious if she had brought up the contract and said she wouldn’t go anywhere else. He would have laughed it off even if she had demanded more money.
“I want to stay by your side.”
If it was her true heart, she couldn’t even meet his eyes; if it was an attempt at seduction, it was pathetic.
Either way, it was none of Oscar’s business. Moreover, either way, it was absurd to the point of being ridiculous.
But what was this?
An unpleasantness, like thousands of insects crawling through his entrails, seemed to tighten his solar plexus.
Oscar sank cold and deep, like an ancient lake in a subterranean cave.
“…Crazy bastard.”
A curse escaped his lips involuntarily. While the smoke gathered in his mouth leaked out like a chilling mist, he rubbed his face roughly.
Should he have satiated his sexual desire every time it arose, just like hunger or the need for sleep? If he had, would the urge that tried to consume his reason in a split second not have grown this massive? But the thought of the perfume or powder scent from those looking to mate was nauseating just to remember.
Time folded in on itself without warning.
The woman who had frozen, and himself overlapping her.
Her dry lips, which felt slightly rough… were warm.
“…….”
That was all.
It was nothing special.
Oscar slowly let out a suppressed breath.
Yes. That was all.
Lust was like a wave; it rose, subsided, and rose again. Behind the wave that surged as if it would never end, an endless trough always waited.
It would be a hundred times better to call a courtesan and hold her instead. Ordering her to wash off the foul scent and then venting this tedious lust would be clean, with no lingering consequences.
Having reached a conclusion, Oscar stood up from the window frame he had been leaning against. He was about to crush the cigarette, which he had barely smoked, into the ashtray.
It was then that his sensitive ears caught the sound of a door opening.
Then came the sound of footsteps.
Pat, pat.
It wasn’t the sound of hard shoe soles hitting the floor, but the sound of soft flesh making contact and pulling away.
“…….”
From the tip of the cigarette, just before it was crushed into the ashtray, smoke rose like a haze.
Pat, pat… pat….
Hesitant, wavering steps were drawing near.
The darkness stretching before him, the smoke rising from his fingertips, and the conclusion he had reached after going in circles like a fool were pushed into the background in an instant.
“…Um….”
The woman stopped walking, and Oscar eventually put the cigarette he was about to crush back into his mouth.
The sound of the cigarette tip burning and the low sound of his breath exhaling smoke filled the vast room.
A precarious silence, in which one could almost hear the sound of time passing, weighed heavily on the shoulders of the man who had laid waste to a mercenary company in a single night.
And what shattered that burdensome silence were those trivial footsteps.
Pat….
It was a voice so faint it was almost laughable.
“…His Excellency.”
Oscar’s gaze moved slowly.
The woman looked as if she were draped in a shroud of darkness.
The dark navy robe blended with the shadows, making her silhouette faint; perhaps because of that, the skin not covered by the darkness appeared exceptionally white.
Her feet visible beneath the robe that fell to her ankles, her slender neck, her hands gripping the hem of the robe tightly, and her face tilted downward.
He felt as if he could see the breath she slowly exhaled through her parted teeth. The lips he had mindlessly sucked on, the tender flesh beyond them, and the scent of greenery that had pierced his nose—he felt them all cruelly shattering the tower of suspicion he had built. He saw the tower of cold reason trembling from its roots and collapsing.
…Crazy bastard.
Oscar mocked himself bitterly. He didn’t just want to mock himself; he wanted to slap his own face.
Merely lust.
A trivial desire that would be over once satisfied, something to be flushed away like waste, had arrived in a form just as trivial. Whether the heat rising within him was irritation at himself or a wretched lust, he couldn’t tell, and there was no meaning in distinguishing between the two.
Just what was she?
Oscar stared at Seo-ah as if glaring, taking a deep drag of his cigarette. Fixing his gaze on her like a predator before its prey, he stepped toward the sofa. When he lit a single gas lamp nearby and sat down, the woman, who had been standing there clutching her clothes, looked at him hesitantly.
