Chapter 74
74
I’ll Come Pick You Up
When the lovemaking that had begun on the drawing room sofa finally ended on the bed, Leila was so utterly exhausted that she could do nothing but breathe raggedly. That was why she hadn’t realized what the duke intended to do to her.
“……!”
Leila’s eyes widened blankly as she realized her wrists were bound. With no strength left even to scream, all she could do was glare at the duke. He flashed her a languid smile and tied the other end of the tie around one of the bedposts.
“……Untie me. This, right now, untie it!”
As Leila stammered out the words and began struggling, Matthias gently stroked her hair.
“Stay still, Leila.”
He lowered the tie bound to the post a bit further so she could lie comfortably.
“If you move, the knot will tighten.”
Matthias picked up one of the pillows scattered on the floor and placed it under her head. He pulled the blanket up to cover her, but it slipped off the bed again because of her thrashing.
He frowned briefly, but soon regained his smile. Covering her again would only lead to the same thing. With the warmth from the fireplace, it wouldn’t be much of a problem without it for a while.
Matthias brushed away the sweat-dampened strands of hair clinging to her cheeks and nape, then headed to the bathroom. It would be best if they could bathe together, but he knew she wouldn’t be compliant. For now, this was the best he could do. At least she couldn’t escape while he washed.
When Matthias returned to the bedroom after a slow shower, towel in hand with warm water, Leila was slumped on the hopelessly rumpled sheets. She’d thrashed so much that even the pillow he’d propped under her head had been thrown back to the floor.
Frowning, Matthias untied the tie that was tightly bound around her wrists. Seeing the vivid red marks left behind, he let out a long sigh.
“I told you it would hurt if you moved.”
“……You madman.”
Leila murmured weakly, gazing up at Matthias as he massaged her wrists with infinitely gentle hands. His touch was loathsome, but she no longer had the strength to even twitch a finger.
Leila closed her eyes, surrendering her body—which no longer felt like her own—to the duke’s hands. Matthias laid her back facing the ceiling and sat on the edge of the bed, gripping the damp cloth.
Slowly, gently, he wiped away the white, dried traces scattered across her body. When his hand, having passed over her cheeks and breasts, reached her lower abdomen, Leila let out a sob-like sigh and laboriously lifted her eyelids.
The duke’s eyes meeting hers were so eerily calm that they seemed emotionless. It was hard to believe this was the same man who had been inside her just moments ago; his expression was so cool. His touch as he cleaned her body was the same. Not a trace of lingering desire remained, which only made Leila feel even more ashamed.
She couldn’t understand this man at all, but this side of him was the most baffling. Sometimes she wondered if he had a switch in his head. Flip it up, flip it down, and he became a completely different person.
Leila closed her eyes again. Now that her breathing had steadied, she lay so quietly that she resembled a pale, beautiful marble sculpture.
Matthias fetched his own robe and wrapped it around her naked body. When he scooped her up, she stirred in surprise but offered no further resistance.
Holding Leila in his arms, Matthias returned to the spot where he had been reviewing documents until early evening.
“……I hate you.”
Leila, whom he’d thought was asleep, murmured softly. Matthias set the documents aside for a moment and looked down at the woman in his arms. A droplet of water from his still-damp hair fell onto her pallid cheek.
“I…… really hate you.”
Gazing at him as he wiped the moisture from her cheek, Leila whispered with all the strength she could muster, though it came out strained.
Until now, she had never hated anyone.
Not even her mother who had abandoned her, nor the relatives who had bullied and beaten her, nor even Mrs. Etman, who had made her feel like less than human. It wasn’t that she didn’t resent them. It was just that even hatred felt too burdensome.
She had emptied herself, over and over, down to her bones, so she could live like the birds soaring high in the sky. She had let go again and again to survive. With a heart weighed down by hatred, she knew she couldn’t face this life bravely, so she had chosen a time when she hated no one.
But this man—Matthias von Herhardt—she hated.
Even if that hatred weighed on her like a rock, making every step a struggle, Leila wanted to hate him with all her heart, willingly.
I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.
After whispering it several more times, Leila finally lost consciousness. Matthias let out a quiet chuckle.
After gazing down at her for a while, he turned his eyes back to the documents in his hand. Leila slept deeply on his lap, cradled in his arms, enveloped in his body heat.
If you want to live well, don’t let go—pray instead, Leila.
That strange unease resurfacing brought a hollow sigh from Matthias. His arms around her tightened unconsciously.
Matthias had so many things he could give this beautiful mistress of his. A fine house and a comfortable life. If she wished, he could even send her to that university she longed for. He could let her spend her life studying her beloved birds. Anything the doctor’s son she loved couldn’t give her—he could provide in abundance.
And yet, to live well, you’ll leave me……
He gently touched the lips that had so glibly uttered such absurd words. Unlike the insolent things they had spoken, they were warm and soft.
Amid the languid spread of satisfaction, Matthias immersed himself in the remaining work. Her steady, soft breathing was as pleasant as music. Her warm body and scent, even her small shifts—everything about the woman in his arms delighted him. He had a premonition that this desire might last longer than expected, but it wasn’t unpleasant.
After setting down the last document and lifting his head, he saw snowflakes fluttering outside the window. Watching the snow fall over the frozen river brought to mind the memory of the first snow of this winter. The night of the charity performance where he’d seen that disastrous play. The snow he’d encountered under the park lamppost, standing face-to-face with Leila.
‘It’s snow…….’
Leila had lifted her head with a small gasp of wonder. Her face lit up with a joyful smile, as if the snow she saw every winter was something special. Matthias could still vividly recall the white flakes settling on her long, fluttering lashes.
“Leila.”
He called her name in a voice like a song, quiet as the night snow. But Leila only stirred faintly, without opening her eyes. Her robe slipped open down to her waist.
If only you’d open your eyes and see the snow—you’d smile so beautifully.
Changing his mind about waking her, Matthias gently cupped her cheek. Drawn to the warmth, Leila nuzzled against his palm in her sleep, as if coquettishly seeking affection. It was a subtle movement, but Matthias felt it clearly.
Instead of pulling up the fallen robe, he let it be. Her bare shoulder trembled slightly, and Leila curled closer into his embrace. Holding his breath without realizing it, Matthias’s gaze deepened.
Something infinitely soft and fragile fluttered in his chest, like one of those snowflakes. It was a strange, unfamiliar emotion—not quite desire—wanting to gaze at this woman, wrapped so completely in his arms, for an endlessly long time, deeply.
Leaving the robe fallen, Matthias embraced her small, half-naked body. As he slowly stroked her bare back with his palm, Leila burrowed deeper into his arms, leaning into the warmth.
Crossing his arms tightly around her, Matthias leaned back deeply into the wingchair.
As he watched the snowflakes drifting outside, his blue eyes slowly closed. Lowering his head, he pressed a kiss to the corner of Leila’s eye.
Leila.
Whispering her name with just his lips, his breath grew slow and warm.
Leila. Leila. Leila.
The overnight train from the capital pulled into Karlsvar Central Station. The winter sun had yet to rise, leaving the platform shrouded in cold dawn light.
People with tousled faces fresh from sleep hurried off the train. The platform quickly came alive with the vigorous steps of those carrying large luggage.
Kyle disembarked once the commotion had died down. Since his return was unannounced, no one was there to greet him. His parents firmly believed he was aboard a train heading to a southern continent country by now. Even Kyle had thought so until the moment he arrived at Ratz Central Station.
Leila hadn’t replied to the last letter he’d written, summoning every ounce of courage. It was time to let go of his lingering attachment, he’d thought. Or so he’d believed. That was why he’d resolved to embark on the journey to broaden his horizons, as his father had urged.
But why?
In the train racing toward Karlsvar, he’d agonized over how to explain the sudden change in destination, but Kyle could find no suitable answer.
It was a kind of premonition.
No matter how he thought about it, such a blunt rejection wasn’t like Leila—not the Leila he’d known for so long. A ominous feeling that something might have happened to her. It might have been a delusion born of sick longing and obsession, but even if it was, Kyle had to see her with his own eyes. That was his only wish.
As the crowd ebbed away like a receding tide, Kyle began walking across the platform, large trunk in hand. The gaunt look from last summer was gone; he had grown into a young man with a properly matured gaze.
Stepping out of the station, he saw a vast square blanketed in white snow. The still-falling flakes settled quietly on his hair and shoulders, dancing a slow waltz.
“Leila…….”
The name slipped from his lips like a sigh, turning into white breath. A throbbing pain at the pit of his stomach mingled with the overwhelming pounding in his chest.
Gripping the trunk tightly, Kyle strode across the snow-covered square with wide steps.
I’ll love you like you’re my whole world. I’ll cherish you. I won’t hurt you, Leila.
That confession he’d conveyed to her was his hottest, truest heart. If Leila had given even the slightest nod, Kyle could have kept the promise in his final letter.
I’ll come pick you up.
Let’s leave together. To a place where the two of us can be happy.
