Right, it had merely been a kiss, nothing more.
Ryan leaned his head back, preferring not to look at Anasta.
He only hoped she would set down the food and leave the room quickly.
‘Hm?’
Yet the quiet bustle of her presence did not move away.
Sensing something amiss, Ryan turned his eyes forward again, and his gaze locked squarely with Anasta’s.
· · ·
· · ·
Their reactions mirrored startled herbivores caught entirely off guard.
“…Ah.”
Anasta was the first to look away.
Ryan found it strange, and asked with poorly concealed fluster, “…Is there something on my face?”
“No, you are fine.”
“Then what?”
“I have finished setting out the dishes. You may begin eating now.”
Ah, so that was why.
‘She’s done preparing it, so stop dwelling on nonsense and eat…’
Ryan scoffed quietly at himself and glanced down at the tray.
A light breakfast lay arranged before him, beside which rested a neatly placed knife and fork.
Wait—a knife and fork?
Their positions were reversed.
· · ·
It was a mistake Anasta had never made before.
Surprise rendered Ryan speechless.
For a woman who had carried out yesterday’s demanding banquet to absolute perfection to make an error like this—it was an egregious blunder.
When he looked up at Anasta, she had already noticed her slip and appeared thoroughly flustered.
She hurriedly swapped the fork and knife before him.
“I apologize. I was not quite in my right mind.”
‘Of all people, you make a mistake?’
“I will ensure it does not happen again next time.”
“It’s fine. It’s not as if the world is ending just because the fork and knife switched places…”
· · ·
Anasta was reproaching herself fiercely, while Ryan found himself trying to ease the situation.
It was something that never would have happened ordinarily.
‘Is this all because of…’
There was no way it was because of that damned kiss, was there?
Ryan rejected the thought immediately. Viewing Anasta differently over a single kiss was behavior fit only for an adolescent boy.
Knock, knock.
“Young Master, it is Paul.”
Paul’s unexpected arrival at that moment was a welcome relief.
Paul exchanged a brief nod with Anasta as their eyes met, then stepped up to Ryan’s bedside.
“Young Master, the personal physician says he will come in two days. The appointment is set for two o'clock…”
· · ·
“Young Master?”
“Ah, continue.”
“Understood. Furthermore, His Grace the Duke will return soon.”
Ryan and Anasta stiffened at the exact same moment.
“When?”
Ryan asked.
“Tomorrow at the earliest, and the day after tomorrow at the very latest, he will arrive at the estate.”
Once the Duke returned and her leg was healed, her departure was settled.
The day Anasta would leave had drawn near.
Though he had longed for this day all along, Ryan’s chest felt strangely heavy.
Anasta, too, seemed to grasp what this meant; her expression froze.
“…I hope he trips on the road and takes a fall, or something happens to delay him.”
“Pardon? What was that, Young Master?”
Paul asked, having failed to catch Ryan’s quiet mutter.
“Nothing. You may leave now, I wish to eat.”
“Then, please excuse me.”
As Paul took his leave, Anasta retreated into her room as well.
Left alone, Ryan exhaled a long breath.
There was only a day or two left to spend with Anasta.
Something that ought to have brought relief provoked an inexplicable discomfort instead.
Ryan furrowed his brows at his own tangled thoughts.
‘What is it that I actually want?’
You wanted Anasta gone, Ryan.
The one who had wished more than anyone for that woman to disappear from sight was you.
That was why you made the bet and won, wished for her leg to heal quickly, and hoped the Duke would return as soon as possible.
· · ·
Ryan closed his eyes.
Yet the moment darkness took over, Anasta’s face surfaced before him.
And that wasn't all.
He remembered the delicious desserts she had brought, the snow he had seen after so many years, the cold floor, and the tense game of chess; every memory drifted to the surface one by one.
‘Hah.’
He had to admit it.
Undeniably, ever since Anasta had arrived, a spark of pleasure had returned to his life.
In the greenhouse, Anasta set down the book she had intended to read and sank into contemplation.
One or two days. She counted the remaining time, then rose from her seat.
So she would be leaving after all.
She smiled bitterly and walked with heavy steps.
Once she left the estate, she would be able to go search for Natasha.
Even so, she could not conceal the hollow ache inside her.
And the reason was a single person.
Ryan Soltaire.
Ryan continually occupied her thoughts and mind.
Because he elicited pity, and because he resembled her.
That had certainly been the case when she first met him.
Now, however, it was different.
Anasta simply wanted to spend more time with Ryan.
She wanted to see him smile, just once, with genuine warmth and brilliance.
Recalling the kiss, her fingertips brushed against her lower lip where Ryan’s lips had briefly lingered.
Her heart thrummed within her with a muffled beat, like subterranean waters boiling up from the depths.
“My goodness, we meet again.”
Startled, Anasta turned to find Duran appearing without warning.
“Ah, I had no intention of frightening you.”
“…No, it is fine.”
She spoke while glancing at the maids behind her.
The maids had kept a polite distance so as not to disturb her and had their backs turned, so they had not yet noticed Duran’s presence.
She took a step back to reestablish a proper distance between them.
“I should be going now.”
“Don’t you think you’re avoiding me a bit too much?”
Duran stepped into her path, smiling smoothly.
“I’m not some insect. Continuing to treat me like this wounds my pride.”
Anasta felt baffled watching Duran openly put on a wounded act.
Had she avoided him excessively? In any case, she would be leaving the ducal estate the day after tomorrow.
“Then may I sit down?”
“Gladly. Allow me to dust it off for you.”
As she settled down to read her book quietly, Anasta felt a gaze upon her left cheek so intense it nearly pierced her skin.
“Do you have something to say?”
Just as expected, Duran was resting his chin on his hand, staring intently at her.
“No, it’s just quite intriguing. No woman has ever sat beside me and merely read a book. Why? Didn’t I tell you? I am a flower, not an insect.”
“If there is something you wish to say…”
“You were extraordinarily beautiful at yesterday’s banquet.”
The moment Anasta finished speaking, Duran smiled with his eyes.
“It was truly a flawless debut. Everyone must have been stunned by the sight of you. Mother, though she had hoped you wouldn't stumble, seemed somewhat jealous once you became the star of the evening. Well, you were just that perfect.”
· · ·
“Do take it in stride even if Mother treats you rather coldly.”
‘I must watch my conduct carefully so as not to draw the Duchess’s attention for the time being,’ Anasta thought.
“Setting that aside, have you received etiquette training before?”
“Yes, since birth.”
“I knew it. Your grace could hardly be the product of a mere week’s instruction. Everyone was captivated by you—myself included, naturally.”
Duran took a strand of Anasta’s golden hair cascading over her shoulder and pressed a light kiss to it.
Inadvertently looking toward his lips, Anasta recalled Ryan from the night before, and a shiver ran through her body.
“Ah, it seems I’ve acted out of turn.”
Duran brightened, assuming the tremble was brought on by his kiss.
“No, it is fine.”
“Still, please know that my words come straight from the heart. You were the loveliest presence there. Perhaps that is why rumors have already begun to spread that it is a waste for you to be Ryan Soltaire’s wife.”
“That is a rumor I cannot agree with…”
Once again, Anasta’s eyes caught on his soft lips.
At first she had thought he did not resemble his brother at all, but looking closely, there were features that mirrored Ryan completely—the clear, unblemished skin and the sharp contour of the nose.
They were surely traits inherited from the Duke.
“Lady? That look of yours is making me quite bashful.”
“No, that is not…”
Duran propped his chin in his palm and studied Anasta with a tilted glance.
“You are looking at me while thinking of someone else.”
“I apologize.”
Anasta apologized immediately, like one who simply did not know how to lie.
Duran let out a dry, self-mocking laugh.
A woman lost in thought while sitting beside a handsome man like himself.
“So, what were you thinking about beside this handsome face?”
“Handsome?”
· · ·
· · ·
“…Do you mean yourself when you say handsome?”
Catching a momentary crack in Duran’s suave composure, Anasta smiled faintly without realizing it.
In turn, Duran was taken aback by the sight of her smiling for the first time.
‘So that woman can smile like that.’
“You are also quite handsome, Sir.”
“I am ‘also’?”
Yet it was her following words that brought Duran fully back to his senses.
“…Mr. Ryan is handsome as well, is he not?”
Seeing her snow-white cheeks faintly tinged with pink, Duran’s mood soured instantly.
‘Ah. So you’re saying Ryan is handsomer than I am?’
To fancy that cripple rotting away in body and soul—had this woman lost her sight?
The very thought stirred a rising spike of irritation at the notion of losing to that pathetic invalid.
“I never said that.”
“Ah, everyone says that. But what of the way you looked at me just now? Weren't you thinking of my brother while staring at me? That must mean my brother is handsomer.”
“Both of you are handsome.”
“I despise such ambiguous answers.”
“…Both of you possess an incomparable handsomeness, but there is a distinction.”
Seeing Anasta intent on answering with utter clarity, Duran felt equal parts dumbfounded and intrigued.
“Tell me, then.”
“Mr. Ryan never proclaims himself to be handsome. Because of that, there is a quality to him that naturally commands one's gaze. It is only natural to be drawn to a rare flower.”
“Ha.”
END
