Chapter 43
43
Beautiful Song
Mathias, who had swum back once more, changed his clothes and stepped out of the annex. The sunset glow had deepened even further, but Leila was still sitting in that tree, crying. She hadn’t noticed his presence, just as she hadn’t a little while ago.
Mathias stopped beneath the tree. It was only after a long while that Leila finally turned her head and looked at him. But unlike before, she didn’t startle and avert her gaze. There was no sign of fear or wariness, either.
Puzzled, Mathias soon realized why. Leila’s eyes were directed toward him, but they weren’t seeing him. That vacant gaze seemed fixed on some distant place—perhaps where the doctor’s son had gone.
Just as Mathias’s lips twisted crookedly, Leila’s eyes regained their focus. The green irises that now held him soon filled with embarrassment. Her face stiffened, and her shoulders hunched. It was the Leila Llewellyn he knew.
Gazing at her tear-wet eyes, Mathias leisurely crossed his arms. It was a leisurely evening. There was no need to rush, so there was no reason he couldn’t wait for that girl. Realizing he had no intention of leaving, blatant wariness surfaced in Leila’s eyes. That prickly attitude made Mathias smile.
“You know, Leila. He’s not coming.”
Mathias took one more step toward the tree where Leila was perched.
“Kyle Etman. The one you’re waiting for. Ah. Should I say the one who left you now?”
Mathias smiled as he stared straight into her eyes. Even as he spat out those cruel words, his voice remained soft and low.
Leila let out a hollow laugh. When she turned her head, the evening sky came into view, now empty of birds. That swelling vista soon became hot tears that trailed down her cheeks.
Without any retort, Leila bit her lip as if to chew it. If she waited for that cruel man to leave, she felt like she might not be able to climb down from the tree even after nightfall.
Leila descended on the far side of the tree, out of the duke’s line of sight. Dizziness hit her from shedding so many tears, but fortunately, she managed to touch down on the ground without making a disgraceful spectacle.
Leila leaned her back against the tree and pulled up her apron to wipe her wet face. She straightened her disheveled hair and adjusted her posture. Only then did she turn around. The duke was still standing there, blocking the path to the cottage.
Instead of trying to slip around him like she was fleeing, Leila approached the duke step by step. Fresh tears were already wetting her face again, unyielding as ever, but she paid them no mind. If she couldn’t hide them anyway, she wanted to at least hold her head high. She didn’t want to devolve into that man’s plaything.
“I apologize for my rudeness. Then farewell, Duke.”
Leila stopped about two paces from him and bowed deeply, observing every formality. Comporting herself in the manner nobles expected had become as natural to her as breathing.
“Leila.”
Just as she was about to brush past him, the duke called her name. She flinched but didn’t stop.
“Leila Llewellyn.”
Mathias uttered her name with a scoffing chuckle as he turned. Leila walked forward, forward, as if she hadn’t heard a thing.
As Mathias’s eyes narrowed at her impertinent defiance, Leila—who had been drifting along like a ghost—suddenly collapsed with a thud. She lay sprawled on the ground and couldn’t get up. Her small, hunched shoulders and back trembled intermittently.
With a short, sharp tsk of his tongue, Mathias slowly approached the tearful, undignified girl. That stiff-necked girl who, even while bawling her eyes out, had always glared back with a defiant spark declaring she would never yield—that Leila Llewellyn was now pathetically crumbling and sobbing.
Narrowing his eyes, Mathias bent one knee and knelt before her. As he picked up her fallen glasses, Leila finally lifted her head. The tears that had entertained him so much before were no longer welcome.
Only a beat later did Mathias realize what to call this feeling as he watched the girl crying over Kyle Etman. Disgust. An emotion that had never existed in his world.
“Don’t cry.”
Mathias gripped her chin and commanded lowly. She tried to turn her head away, but Leila couldn’t withstand his strength.
“Let go!”
“Don’t cry.”
Even as Leila struggled and resisted, Mathias calmly repeated the same command as before, unchanging. With just one hand, he could perfectly subdue her.
“Aren’t you supposed to enjoy it when I cry, Duke?”
Leila demanded incredulously. The humiliation of his inescapable grip made her tears swell even thicker and hotter.
“Since when did you care about my enjoyment?”
Even with Leila sobbing desperately right in front of his nose, Mathias smiled.
“You hate seeing me enjoy myself.”
“No.”
Putting all her effort into holding back her sobs, Leila weakly shook her face that he held captive.
“Whether you enjoy yourself or not, that’s none of my concern. Just like my tears have nothing to do with you, Duke.”
“What a dilemma, Leila. It concerns me.”
Mathias’s head tilted slightly.
“Don’t cry.”
Back to square one. The expression on Mathias’s face as he looked at Leila was now even gentle.
“Do I need your permission to shed my tears, too?”
Leila let out an incredulous scoff.
“Is that so?”
“Why should I? You have no right.”
“Right…”
“It’s not like being the lord of Arbis means you own me, too.”
“Is that right?”
Mathias’s eyes narrowed briefly before he regained his smile.
“Then shall I take possession now?”
In that instant, his smile vanished, leaving his face devoid of any emotion. The terror of that face—like the surface of water on a windless day—made Leila’s lips tremble.
“So I can be your master.”
Mathias’s fingertip touched Leila’s lips. The sensation evoked memories of that past summer, sending shivers through her. Her heart, consumed by the burning grief of losing Kyle, suddenly felt as if it had frozen solid.
“…I hate it.”
Unable to bear her own wretched state at the duke’s feet any longer, Leila summoned all her strength to rise. Mathias released her as casually as a child discarding a toy that had lost its novelty.
Rising first, Mathias cast his shadow over Leila as she staggered to her feet. Her face was a mess of dirt and tears, but her eyes had regained their light.
“I hate you, Duke. I hate your fiancée and your nonsensical behavior. I hate all of it.”
“So?”
Mathias toyed with the loosely held glasses as he countered.
“What does your heart have to do with me?”
There was no bravado in Mathias’s questioning voice.
“Because I want to.”
If he wanted it, he took it. That was all. And Mathias wanted Leila Llewellyn. Because he wanted her, he would have her. Only by having her could he discard her—and only by discarding her could his life become whole again.
On Leila’s dazed face, Mathias gently placed the glasses.
“Go.”
As his hand withdrew, Leila collapsed right back onto the spot with a thud.
Mathias stood gazing down at her for a time before departing along the riverbank as leisurely as if he were out for a stroll. Even long after his figure vanished from sight, Leila remained there.
“Leila! Leila! Come quick!”
Bill Leamer, seeing Leila return to the cottage, exclaimed in an uncharacteristically excited voice.
Leila approached Bill, who sat on the porch with a smile on her face. She knew she couldn’t fool her uncle with her utterly wrecked appearance while forcing a smile, but she didn’t want to show him her foolish crying face, either.
“What is it, Uncle?”
“A telegram came. For you.”
“A telegram?”
Leila tilted her head quizzically as she took the telegram Bill handed her. It was news that a teaching position had opened at the village school, not far from Arbis. Starting with the new semester, she was to commute there instead of to the neighboring city.
“They definitely said there were no openings in Kalsvar…”
It was glad tidings, but Leila felt strangely dazed. Bill gently stroked her head with his large hand.
“I hated the thought of sending you so far away, but this stroke of luck is such a relief, Leila.”
Meeting Bill’s eyes filled with relief, Leila nodded and smiled. Just as her uncle said, this was fortune. Even if she boarded near the school in the neighboring city, she had planned to return to her uncle every weekend—but still, her heart had felt so empty lately.
But…
The duke’s face lingering in her mind kept Leila from rejoicing fully. She didn’t want to part from Uncle Bill, but she wanted to escape the duke. What a foolish heart.
“Is something else wrong, Leila?”
Bill asked cautiously. Only then did Leila realize her face had hardened.
“No.”
As Leila smiled again, bright moonlight fell upon her face.
“It’s just such an unexpected piece of luck that I’m a bit dazed.”
“Is it?”
“Yes.”
As she nodded, Leila’s smile grew a little brighter.
“You’re hungry, right? Let’s have a delicious dinner, Uncle.”
The bedroom curtain, half-covering the open window, billowed and slowly settled in the night breeze, over and over. The quietly flowing piano melody did the same. Its exceedingly delicate and ornate technique even felt somewhat neurotic at times.
Mathias, holding silver scissors and a handkerchief, leaned back in the chair by the window. With a snap of his fingers, the canary fluttered over and perched on his hand. Whether the bird’s song was a form of training or not, the canary had come to sing more beautifully with time.
Mathias gazed at the bird singing in response to the piano’s melody, a smile on his face. The canary shook its small body, covered in soft feathers this way and that, then tilted its head as if lost in thought.
When that clear song ended, Mathias gently wrapped the bird in the handkerchief he had brought.
The breeder always covered the birds’ eyes before clipping their wing feathers. It was to keep them from knowing who had clipped their wings. If they knew, the birds would come to fear that person.
Mathias deftly spread and held the compliant bird’s wing.
He had left it to the breeder for a while at first, but now he could easily trim the grown wing feathers himself.
The first few times, he had cut them too short, causing blood to flow. Fortunately, it wasn’t a major bleed, but seeing the golden wings soaked in blood wasn’t pleasant. Disliking that, Mathias had grown more cautious.
Confirming the feathers to clip, Mathias took up the scissors from his knee. As the sharp blade passed, the severed wing feathers scattered. They fluttered down like dancing upon Mathias’s polished shoes.
After clipping the other wing’s feathers as well, Mathias removed the handkerchief covering the bird’s eyes. The bird flapped its trimmed wings a few times before perching back on Mathias’s finger.
As if nothing had happened, the canary began chirping again. It was a beautiful song.
