Chapter 20
20
Cry for Me, You Can Beg Too
“You’re so kind, ma’am.”
Mrs. Etman’s eyes, fixed on Lady Norma of the ducal family, brimmed with genuine admiration.
“To bestow such great favor upon us.”
The brighter the joy spreading across her face, the more troubled Kyle Etman standing beside her appeared.
Mathias watched the mother and son with an intrigued gaze. He knew well that his grandmother favored the family physician and quite liked his son too. Dr. Etman was a capable doctor with an excellent character, so it was only natural.
Kyle Etman, who probably took after his father, would no doubt live such a life barring any mishaps. His grandmother was convinced of it, and Mathias agreed.
But that was where it ended.
There was no reason for him to take interest in such an obvious, dull fact. Unless it was Linda Etman, the rather ambitious mistress of the house who seemed cut from a different cloth than the two men of the Etman family.
“May I greet them now?”
Worried that Lady Norma might change her mind, Mrs. Etman set aside her pride for the moment and pressed.
“Dear.”
Dr. Etman, who had been watching quietly, gently tried to dissuade her, but she showed no intention of backing down.
Mathias shifted his gaze back to Kyle Etman.
It had been a while since his grandmother proposed introducing the Etmans to the Baron Arnt family. No one missed the implication behind her words that the two families suited each other well and could get along. Baron Arnt had a daughter the same age as Kyle Etman. A daughter who was about to reach marriageable age.
Though they held no title, the Etmans were far wealthier than the Arnts. Their reputation was no less impressive either. If the two families became in-laws, Baron Arnt might even stand to gain more.
“Yes, Mrs. Etman. That would be good.”
Katarina von Herthart, wearing a generous smile, summoned a servant. Ordered to fetch Baron Arnt and his wife, he swiftly vanished into the crowd. Kyle’s expression, glancing toward the terrace connected to the garden, had grown unmistakably anxious.
As if he had left something precious behind there.
A faint smile tugged at Mathias’s lips as certainty dawned on him.
A mother with boundless attachment and expectations for her son, and a son who knew no way to disappoint her. Placing Leila Llewellyn between them brought another quiet chuckle. Just then, the Baron Arnt couple appeared, guided by the servant—as expected, their daughter was with them too.
Kyle, not entirely oblivious, seemed to grasp the meaning of this gathering. His eyes screamed that he wanted to bolt, yet the boy couldn’t abandon his role as the good, polite son.
In that case.
Mathias left the tiresome matchmaking scene. His steps crossing the terrace and descending the stairs showed no haste, utterly leisurely.
The end of the good son’s puppy love was predictable. Leila would be abandoned and left here, in his forest, in the end.
By the time that clear conclusion settled in his mind, Mathias had found Leila. As expected, since she had to wait for the boy and wouldn’t have gone far, she was lingering under the pagoda in a corner of the garden.
Mathias approached with even slower steps. Wondering why she wasn’t startled and flustered as usual, he realized Leila was fast asleep. Faint moonlight filtering through the rose bushes illuminated the woman curled up small.
Mathias halted a short distance from the bench. And he gazed deeply. At her neatly removed shoes, her wounded feet, her slender arms wrapped around her knees, and her face that looked even more innocent in sleep.
Long strands of hair draped over her delicate nape and shoulders. The moment curiosity stirred about the feel of those cascading golden locks, Mathias slowly bent down to pick up her shoes.
That was when Leila’s eyes fluttered open.
It’s a dream.
She thought vaguely. Meanwhile, Mathias leaned against the pagoda pillar facing the bench, one hand holding what looked like her shoe.
Even in a dream, wasn’t that too strange?
The sudden doubt chased away the lingering drowsiness.
“……Your Grace?”
Even so, she whispered his name in disbelief. Instead of answering, Mathias took out a cigarette and lit it. The white smoke drifting from his lips and scattering proved this moment could not be a dream.
Leila, jolted wide awake and starting to rise in shock, belatedly realized the shoe in his hand was hers. Frozen, unable to do anything, she scooted to the edge of the bench first. Mathias looked down at her as if enjoying a spectacle, slowly dangling the shoe.
“Shall I give it back?”
His low voice came with the pale cigarette smoke.
“Yes.”
“Then cry for me once, Leila.”
The following words were even more languid and cruel.
Stunned by the unbelievable demand, Leila stared blankly for a moment. I wish Kyle would come soon. But the path to the pagoda remained utterly silent.
“That boy isn’t coming.”
The duke stated calmly, as if reading her mind.
“Kyle Etman.”
Watching her frown in disbelief, Mathias whispered once more.
“The one you’re waiting for.”
Mathias discarded the barely smoked cigarette without regret.
By the time the thin wisp of smoke faded, Leila lifted her head, anger surging.
“No.”
Casting aside her reluctance to show her wounded feet, Leila stood resolutely. Planting her feet firmly on the ground, she faced Mathias squarely. She was still afraid of him, but she refused to be his plaything any longer.
“Kyle is a man who keeps his promises.”
“Is he?”
“Yes.”
Leila answered with conviction.
“You seem awfully sure.”
“I think I know what kind of person Kyle is far better than Your Grace does.”
Gathering all her courage, Leila spoke firmly, word by word. A sneer spread across the duke’s lips as he gazed at her steadily.
“Conviction shouldn’t be thrown around lightly, Leila.”
With those words, the duke stepped forward. Though instinctual fear made her shoulders hunch, Leila did not retreat.
“I…… I really don’t understand.”
“What?”
“Why do you hate me so much, Your Grace?”
Unlike her trembling voice, Leila’s eyes were clear and straight.
“I feel good when I hate you.”
He answered calmly, one corner of his mouth lifted.
“It’s fun when you cry, enjoyable watching you beg.”
“How can you say such things?”
“Leila, I’m just answering your question.”
Even with her horrified right before him, Mathias’s face remained impassive.
“You don’t do this to other people, to anyone else.”
Tears threatened from the humiliation, but Leila held them back with effort. Once again, Mathias nodded as if readily agreeing.
“That’s right.”
“But why only to me…….”
“Because it’s you.”
“Pardon?”
“Not anyone else—because it’s you, Leila, you who are nothing.”
His answer was calm and dry. That fact made Leila feel even more wretched.
“I’m sorry, Your Grace.”
Struggling not to cry, Leila glared at him. She even missed the many relatives who had driven her out for various reasons. Even her drunken uncle had never been this cruel to her.
“I’m truly sorry for presuming to stay on Your Grace’s estate, I who am nothing.”
Now her voice and even her tightly clenched fists began to tremble.
“If you were going to be like this, why did you even allow me to stay back then?”
“Leila. Isn’t that too heartless?”
“You’re plenty heartless now.”
No matter how she tried to hide it, a sob crept into Leila’s voice.
“Are you going to throw me out now?”
“No.”
The eyes holding her darkened further.
“Don’t worry about that. You’re fulfilling your purpose well enough.”
“You said I was nothing.”
“That’s your purpose.”
Slowly opening his eyes, Mathias erased even the mocking smile from his lips. His expressionless face looked suffocatingly serene and cold.
“Enough with the apologies.”
Mathias raised his deeply bowed head toward Leila and stood straight.
“The Kyle Etman you’re waiting for isn’t coming.”
His hand, pointing to the empty path, touched the hair that had fallen over Leila’s shoulder. Terrified, Leila stepped back, but the bench blocked her—she couldn’t retreat even a step.
“So, Leila…….”
Releasing the golden hair he’d gently grasped, Mathias looked at her with eyes even deeper than before.
“Cry for me.”
Even issuing the ruthless command, he remained composed.
“Beg if you like.”
The added suggestion, like a gracious concession, seemed laced with faint amusement.
He’s mad.
She’d thought so before, but now Leila was certain. This man was definitely insane.
Even after Mathias returned to the mansion, Kyle Etman remained caught by his mother. Quite tempted by the prospect of becoming in-laws with the Etmans, Baron Arnt and his wife showed considerable favor, and Mrs. Etman’s reaction was no different. Kyle’s demeanor had stiffened noticeably, but his mother seemed largely indifferent to her son’s feelings.
Mathias withdrew his interest from the once again predictable and boring affair. Blending back among the familiar faces, he resumed his role as the master of Arbis, Duke of Herthart.
Leila cried.
Recalling that moment filled Mathias with satisfaction. Unable to contain her anger, she trembled violently before thick teardrops came spilling down. Against her reddened eyes, her wet pupils gleamed even clearer. In such moments, Leila Llewellyn’s eyes sparkled like the jewel he’d placed around her neck, and Mathias liked that.
Since she cried so prettily, he gladly returned her shoes.
Leaving the garden, he glanced back to see Leila still standing there, crying. Thinking of the tears caused by him—and thus entirely his own—lightened Mathias’s steps even more.
Watching Leila enter the mansion escorted by Kyle Etman had stirred a petty annoyance, washed away by those tears. Even the hard-to-describe emotion from the moment he’d kissed Claudine while looking at that woman.
Tonight, amid his possessions, Leila was beautiful—and the beautiful Leila cried because of him.
Thus, a perfect summer night.
As Mathias reached that satisfying conclusion, Leila unexpectedly reappeared. Standing at the edge of the passage connecting the hall and terrace, she scanned intently for someone.
“Kyle Etman.”
Mathias whispered the name lowly.
Leila soon spotted him, it seemed. But she couldn’t approach easily. She understood what it meant for people—especially Baron Arnt’s youngest daughter—to surround Kyle Etman.
After hiding behind a pillar for a while, Leila approached a passing servant and said something. The servant nodded and headed toward Kyle Etman, whose expression had turned icy at his limit. Meanwhile, Leila left the terrace.
Impulsively, Mathias approached that servant.
“Fetch Count Klein for me.”
The servant’s eyes widened at the order. He glanced toward Kyle Etman as if hesitating, but gave the expected response.
“Yes, Master.”
Turning, he hurried into the crowd to carry out the command.
Mathias stepped onto the terrace and leaned against the pillar where Leila had stood moments before. Leila was walking away along the path through the garden’s center. Her feet must hurt badly; she limped, then midway took off her shoes and went barefoot.
Mathias watched her while waiting for the servant. Of course, Count Klein wouldn’t come. Suffering from nervous headaches, he had only shown his face briefly early evening before leaving.
By the time Leila vanished deep into the path leading to the forest, the servant approached.
“I’m sorry, Master. Sir Klein has already gone home.”
“I see.”
Mathias nodded with a smile.
“Thank you.”
With that farewell, Mathias leisurely left the terrace.
Only then did the servant return to his previous task. Approaching Kyle Etman, he relayed the message, and dismay flickered across Kyle’s face.
Finally excusing himself, Kyle rushed out to the terrace, but Mathias paid it no more mind. Leila Llewellyn walked surprisingly fast for her small frame. Kyle Etman, far too late, wouldn’t catch up.
Mathias gladly accepted a glass of champagne offered by Riet.
A beautiful midsummer night—the party was perfect.
