Chapter 51
51
A crow?
Crazy bastard.
Leila suddenly remembered that clear fact she’d lived forgetting for a while.
Right. This was that madman, the Duke of Herhardt.
“You need to answer.”
The duke tugged at Leila’s hair as she panted for breath, smiling once more. Unlike the ferocious momentum with which he’d chased her down, his touch wasn’t rough at all—but Leila had no spare capacity to notice that. The humiliation of having her hair grabbed and her fear were the only emotions dominating her now.
“Leila.”
Mathias’s voice dropped even lower as he called her name.
Leila tried to step backward pointlessly, but the tree blocked her, and she couldn’t retreat an inch. Unbefitting someone who’d run so fast, the duke’s breathing had already steadied, but Leila’s chest still heaved raggedly. Each time it did, the sensation of his large, firm body pressed even more vividly against her, making her plight all the worse.
“What the…”
Leila pushed desperately at the duke’s shoulder with all her might, her trembling lips parting.
“Why are you doing this to me?”
When her arms alone weren’t enough, she twisted her body with all her strength. Mathias, looking down at her as if it were absurd, shifted his weight to pin her down. As Leila froze in terror from their bodies pressing so close, Mathias’s expression grew far more satisfied.
“Not a question. An answer.”
He gladly met the eyes of the glaring Leila.
“Give me an answer, Leila.”
Mathias slowly stroked the strands of her hair wound around his fingers. The soft, rustling texture eased the displeasure that had lingered all week. Thanks to that, even Leila’s stubborn silence—her lips pressed tight in defiance—didn’t grate on him.
“You think ignoring letters and giving no reply is ladylike?”
“……”
“Leila.”
“……”
“Leila Llewellyn.”
Strength gradually entered the hand gripping her hair. Sensing the ominous sign, Leila burst out, her lips parting.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Your Grace.”
“The letters didn’t arrive?”
“It’s news to me.”
“Leila, you’d better think carefully before you speak.”
Mathias’s smile deepened as he watched her eyes shake uneasily.
“What do you think I’d do to a useless messenger pigeon that can’t even deliver one letter properly?”
“Hey, you promised!”
Leila flinched and cried out.
“You promised you wouldn’t shoot Phoebe!”
“Did I?”
“Your Grace!”
“For some reason, I find myself wanting to play dumb about what you’re even saying.”
At her clumsy lie from eyes that couldn’t hide a thing, Mathias grew a little more mischievous. Her glare of indignation lasted only a moment. Then Leila lowered her fluttering lashes.
“……I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“You already know everything.”
“Ignoring my letters, running away, lying?”
Her shoulders twitched with each point he made. She was pretty when she softened like this, but he didn’t like that she wouldn’t meet his eyes.
“Enough with the apologies.”
Mathias lifted her chin with his index finger. Despite the careful touch, as if handling something fragile, Leila startled. Of course, Mathias didn’t mind. The satisfaction of finally locking eyes with her overwhelmed any faint awkwardness.
“If it doesn’t bother you that it’s gone, then that pen must not have been precious, right?”
“Of course it is! But……”
As Leila trailed off and tried to turn her head, Mathias cupped her small chin in his palm, forcing her gaze back.
“But?”
He wanted neither the conversation to break nor her eyes to flee. With her hair and face firmly held, Leila let out a resigned sigh.
“I really can’t understand you, Your Grace.”
Her calm emerald eyes took him in. They were beautiful, like an eternal summer.
“Why do you keep stealing my things?”
At Leila’s tone, as if scolding a thief, Mathias’s brow arched faintly. Who else in all of Carlsbar—no, the entire empire—would dare treat the Duke of Herhardt like a petty pickpocket? It was so outrageous he couldn’t help but laugh.
“Seriously…… seriously, are you a crow?”
Leila shot at him, staring intently at his dark black hair and blue eyes.
“A crow?”
Mathias frowned at the baffling word. As if she’d decided to let it all spill now, consequences be damned, Leila kept chattering on without pause.
“You’re the one who stole it…… you’re the one in the wrong, so why do I have to come begging every time? It’s not fair.”
Her angry voice was higher than usual. Perhaps because of that, its clear ring was all the more pleasant to the ear, and Mathias gladly listened.
“So that’s why.”
Watching her huff indignantly, Mathias softly curved the corner of his lips. For a fleeting moment, Leila felt like a fool, her words dying in her throat.
She’d mustered every ounce of courage to defend herself, and the duke just smirked through it all.
What the hell……
“Leila.”
The moment Leila’s lips parted again, Mathias called her name. The reckless fire in her eyes vanished, replaced by an indescribable, strange feeling. Unable to find a retort, she fumbled awkwardly and hastily dropped her gaze.
“Leila.”
This time, slower, he whispered her name like a hummed melody.
As she twisted her head, one ear brushed his chest. She faintly heard his heartbeat. The thought that her own pounding heart might be transmitting to him just as clearly made this moment unbearably hard to endure.
Leila pushed at his shoulder again with her pale, rigid hands—the one blocking her path. She knew it was futile, but she had to make the pointless effort.
Pretending he couldn’t help it, Mathias took a step back. Leila exhaled the breath she’d been holding in ragged gasps. Timid yet bold, meek yet spirited. She was hard to figure out in every way, but that made her all the more entertaining to watch.
“Give me back my pen.”
At Leila’s abrupt demand once she’d caught her breath, Mathias burst out laughing. She never failed to meet expectations.
“Don’t have it.”
His reply was nonchalant.
“Threw it out.”
“What?”
“You didn’t seem to need it, so.”
“But why treat me like this……”
“Leila, shouldn’t I at least let you know?”
Mathias shrugged, as if asking what was so obvious.
“I’m a gentleman, after all.”
He slowly stroked the hair still in his grasp.
“The greatest gentleman in Carlsbar, as certified by Teacher Llewellyn.”
As he finally released his grip, Leila’s hair slipped smoothly through his fingers. Glaring at the duke, she stumbled backward. But she didn’t get far before letting out a shrill scream and staggering.
“Aaah!”
Just as the last handful of hair was about to slip free, Mathias suddenly tightened his hold.
“Isn’t that right?”
Even as Leila writhed in the stinging pain that brought tears to her eyes, his face wore a delighted expression.
Crazy bastard.
Repeating it to herself, Leila struggled to wrench her hair free from the duke. Mathias chuckled, pointedly shaking the ends clutched in his fist.
To think this man was the head of the Herhardt family!
Just as worry for Arbis’s future began to creep in, Leila’s body tilted backward. The duke had suddenly let go of her hair.
She heard him laugh heartily, ha ha ha, and then the rapidly tilting scenery came to an abrupt halt.
Before she knew it, Mathias’s face filled her vision. Only after feeling the arm around her waist did Leila realize she was cradled in the duke’s arms, looking up at him.
Should I just bite him?
Feeling like a cornered rat, Leila scowled fiercely—right as the duke casually set her down. His utterly nonchalant, brazen face made her stomach churn once more.
Fleeing from him, Leila bolted toward the stream bank. Mathias stood still in place, simply checking the watch on his wrist.
“Take it back. You’re no gentleman, Your Grace. Not at all.”
Leila shouted in outrage.
“Your reputation’s taken a sudden nosedive.”
He laughed aloud again, and Leila’s cheeks burned even redder.
“It’s true.”
“Oh. Is it?”
“Yes! If you’re a gentleman, then I’m the queen!”
She even started hating herself for once fawning over him so obsequiously.
As if to say it was all for that paltry reason, the duke snorted and straightened the lapel of his disheveled coat. Then, facing Leila, he bowed as if greeting a queen—a subject paying homage. The insult of that utterly graceful, courteous gesture turned her mind blank white.
Leila watched his retreating back with dazed eyes as he walked away without a care. The man who had hunted her like a beast, tormented her mercilessly, then departed after insulting her in such a beautifully cruel way.
By the time he reached the annexe, the car was already waiting.
Mathias climbed right in. The irritation and displeasure from the moment he’d left the annexe were now gone without a trace.
The car carrying the duke sped along the road by the riverbank. After gazing briefly at the Schulter River, Mathias turned to the documents and letters his attendant had placed beside the seat. The faint amusement lingering in his eyes soon returned to their usual sharpness.
Emotion drained from Mathias’s lips again, only curving faintly the moment he drew the pen from his jacket pocket.
Leila Llewellyn.
The gold-embossed name gleamed in the afternoon sunlight.
Mathias slowly stroked the sleek, glossy pen with his fingertips, then chuckled shortly and uncapped it.
The faint scratch of the nib filled the sunlit interior of the car.
“This one’s addressed to you, Teacher Llewellyn.”
As the deliveryman handed over the mail for the school, he finally proffered a small parcel box.
“To me?”
Leila took it, puzzled. It was odd enough for a parcel to come to the school instead of her home, but the sender’s name and address were unfamiliar too.
“Wrong address?”
“Hm? Uh…… no.”
Leila smiled and shook her head. It was from some unknown person in an unknown place, but the recipient was unmistakably Leila Llewellyn—herself.
“Thank you.”
After bidding the deliveryman farewell, Leila hurried back inside the school building. Distributing the mail was the youngest teacher’s duty—hers. From the principal’s office to the next classroom over. By the time she’d finished handing everything out, recess was nearly over.
Returning to her classroom, Leila sat at her desk and tore open the parcel wrapping. A long, slender box appeared inside. Nothing but the box—no note.
Leila checked the sender’s address and name once more. Definitely an unfamiliar city, unfamiliar name.
“Ah.”
Tilting her head, she opened the box, and a short gasp of admiration slipped from her lips.
Inside lay a black fountain pen wrapped in gold trim. The moment she saw it, Leila understood everything. Who had sent it, and why. The chaos of the weekend flashed vividly in her mind, drawing an involuntary sigh from her. It looked far more expensive than hers—imcomparably so.
Leila carefully picked up the pen. Just like the one the duke had thrown away, her name was engraved on the cap.
The bell signaling the start of class rang out, and the children playing in the halls and courtyard came rushing back into the classroom.
Leila put the new pen back in its box and tucked it deep into her desk drawer. If she could, she’d stash that day’s memories there too. But that was just a vain wish.
“Alright, class, let’s get started!”
Leila stood at the front of the room with a bright smile.
