Ch#270
Fragment of the Broken Glass Slipper Side Story 2 Episode 6
Michael Aires maintained a rigidly stiff expression all the way to his office. Even when personally preparing tea and pouring it into the cup.
While Sir Ailes prepared the tea, Cisse sat on the sofa, glancing around the room. The desk was still piled high with documents like a tower, suggesting he had much work left.
Come to think of it, was this her first time entering Sir Ailes's office?
Though the desk, chair, coat rack, and other furniture were commonplace, knowing it was where he worked made her unable to tear her eyes away from any of it. Thus, she couldn't even properly drink the tea he'd given her.
Just moments ago, her mind had been in turmoil, but surveying the room like this seemed to calm her a bit.
On the other hand, Michael Aires couldn't even breathe properly while she calmly took in the office scenery. His trembling fingertips had long gone cold.
He hadn't felt this terror even when first cutting down a man. Astonishingly, this moment felt more devastating than when he'd gone to battle with her. Now he understood why the Alpheus House fledgling had provoked him so relentlessly today.
He covered his face with his palm, swallowed a sigh, stared at his toes, and gulped dryly in silence, repeating the cycle.
Cisse had ruthlessly cast aside the fledgling. She'd said his affection frightened her. Then called him not "Mel" but "Aires." Faced with the reality he'd dreaded, he couldn't collect his thoughts at all.
'Grabbing the other's hair wasn't enough; I even pressed down hard on his thigh. It must have been terrifying.'
In truth, Michael Aires and Ilya Alpheus's courtship methods had subtle similarities. The difference was only that Michael had been more adept at reading Cisse's mood, gradually opening her heart bit by bit.
Moreover, though Michael acted outwardly composed, he monitored letters entering House Bischwaltz and had dealt with every man loitering around her at least once.
Beyond that, he was fully willing to abandon his house and family for her. Thus, if all this came to light, even he would be shocked and flee if he were Cisse.
'How much of the conversation with the fledgling did she hear? What if she says my affection is unwelcome too? Calling me Aires means she's already made up her mind? Does she find me repulsive?'
Cisse de Bischwaltz was a delicate woman. There was no way she'd like a violent man like him.
Moreover, he'd always acted gentlemanly and spoken kindly before her, yet mocked the other coldly—she must think she'd been deceived.
He'd always wanted to show only his good side...
At first, he'd planned to slowly reveal his true personality, but as time passed, he thought this was fine. Suppressing his nature brought stability and a sweet world.
Cisse flustered and yielding to his actions was lovely; her shyness at his nagging kisses was endearing. Her troubled expression at his whims turning to reaching out and holding his hand made his heart feel like bursting.
Her tender embraces or softly murmuring "Mel" with a gentle smile were utterly charming. Thus, before her, he wanted to be the kind, wonderful Michael Aires.
There were limits to understanding a dual personality. Even to Michael, the self before her and moments ago were nearly different people—undeniable even if called a fraud.
He glanced up slightly at the teacup before Cisse. Though she'd asked for tea, she hadn't even touched the one he'd poured.
Did she now hate even touching things he handled? The once-bitten heart sank endlessly. Before, he'd thought, 'If my nature's exposed, I'll beg desperately and cling; she won't abandon me.' But now faced with it, his mind went blank as a white sheet.
He merely waited mutely like a prisoner awaiting disposal. As always, this relationship rested in Cisse's hands.
"Your hand... is your hand alright?"
After long silence, Cisse cautiously spoke. Not blatant condemnation of his nature, but concern for Michael.
Michael startled, lifting his head. The face expected filled with fear and contempt was instead crumbling with worry and pity. Nowhere was distance from the cold man who'd subdued the other.
Despite his rough words of ruining bodies or crippling, Cisse's eyes remained fixed on Michael's hand. Astonishingly, this lovely woman fretted whether a knight like him had been badly hurt just from grabbing hair.
How could she be like this?
Her reaction banished fear instantly, a sliver of hope peeking out. Michael, gauging her mood, barely replied in a crawling voice.
"It's fine."
"But your expression looks bad—isn't it hurting?"
"No. It's not."
"Then show me."
"Pardon?"
"Your hand."
At the firm command, he hesitantly showed his palm; she reached out, pulling his hand to her. The callus-ridden palm was unchanged from usual. Such force wouldn't chafe the skin. Unless he'd deliberately punched.
Even if hurt, it wouldn't feel as intense as now. Michael swallowed a groan, gazing down at Cisse meticulously examining his palm.
Her palm supporting his hand's back was so soft and warm. Such trivial contact was maddeningly ecstatic. Especially since she held him unafraid, like always. He wanted to whine and call her Cisse.
"Good, no injury."
Michael regretted her hand leaving, but composed his expression. Instead, mustering courage, he asked. He needed to talk while she wasn't afraid. His cunning nature excelled here.
"...How did you come here?"
"I had an appointment with Sir Alpheus."
"To meet him?"
"He promised no more letters after. So I was heading to the training grounds."
"...That's all?"
"Yes."
Her immediate reply held no wavering toward the young knight. Michael inwardly murmured 'thank goodness' and swallowed a sigh. She'd given the fledgling no leeway, unlike with him.
"...Did you see?"
"Yes."
"From when...?"
"From when Sir Alpheus clenched his fist and charged."
"I see."
Michael replied, not hiding his dismay. Focused on dodging the fledgling's attack, he'd missed her presence. Otherwise, he'd have maintained composure. Then this wouldn't have happened.
'Worst case.'
He felt contempt for his heart still wanting to deceive Cisse. Could they have continued well without today's incident? The answer was 'no.' It was inevitable, even without Alpheus.
But not like this.
Michael continued slowly.
"Am I frightening? Do you think I deceived you?"
Nobles lived with false personalities for honor. Had Michael Aires lacked that?
But others and lovers were worlds apart. If he truly trusted her, he should have shown his true self sooner and sought forgiveness.
This was Michael's worry. He feared she'd think he'd feigned to toy with her.
Cisse blinked slowly. Michael stared piercingly.
Deceived?
She mulled his question. The man feared his dirty nature exposed. But that wasn't what she wanted to say.
'What face if I say I knew? Would he get angry, claiming I deceived him? More than that, he knew about the Alpheus meeting—doesn't it bother him now?'
Her chest tightened. Though hearing love confessions and sharing kisses, no ring. Clinging desperately for affection before, yet nonchalant now. From Cisse, who'd obsessed and rampaged over Sir Halberd's gaze elsewhere, incomprehensible.
She'd thought her guts twisting at his glance to another. Rage near madness at greetings to others. Wanting to claw the woman's face.
Yet Michael helped train a potential rival and advised against whining over unrequited love. Normally, wouldn't one threaten silence? Why say that?
Of course, he'd confessed tormenting Alpheus, but publicly? Likely heat-of-moment words.
Cisse composed her endlessly depressing emotions, striving for calm reply.
"I don't think that."
"...Then why not call me Mel?"
Cisse found his question absurd. No interest in her matters, yet anxious over not using the pet name. Incomprehensible. Thus, she decided to voice her dissatisfaction.
"What do you think of my meeting Sir Alpheus?"
He immediately deflected, as if changing topic.
"What does 'not frightening' mean?"
Cisse furrowed her brow. Probing even quick replies frustrated her. She struggled to seize conversation control.
"How did you feel hearing he sent letters?"
"Why not question hiding my nature?"
"No thoughts on his confession?"
"...Countess Bischwaltz."
Michael uttered her formal title exasperatedly. Cisse shot back promptly.
"Yes, Sir Michael Aires."
"Cisse."
He coaxed with her pet name again. But Cisse didn't call his as desired. Instead, she pursed her lips in silence. Childish, but her rebellion.
She felt ashamed needing to whine this way; resented his nonchalance elsewhere yet visible panic over exposed nature. Did he seem narrow-minded unable to embrace this?
First conflict since becoming lovers. Daunting where to unravel.
"Cisse, please."
But enduring his pleading eyes calling her pet name was impossible. Damn him for exploiting his looks expertly.
Thus, avoiding his gaze, she spoke rapidly. As if his focus trivial. Her overtly emotional words blunt.
"You asked if frightening? Yes. Not at all. Seems forgotten, but I endured His Majesty. Don't underestimate my resolve."
"Cisse."
"Must I question hiding nature? Why? Can't think you have that side too? Rather, say you tried showing good side—I'll praise generously."
"Cisse, my lady..."
"May sound odd, but considered due to your friendship with His Majesty. Just don't show me that side. Hard?"
"No. Absolutely not. I swear by the gods."
"Then fine."
The man's eyes widened round. Thinking he'd misheard, he shook his head.
"Pardon? That's it?"
"Shall I say you worked hard hiding?"
"...You're angry. At me."
Cisse felt her face flush hot. Agitated emotions sharpened her tone unwittingly.
He fixated elsewhere; she'd whined openly resenting his disinterest in scandal. How ugly she must seem.
Michael Aires continued calmly, as if missing her agitation. Now his turn.
"On the Alpheus meeting, I thought he provoked me. Had he not, I'd remain your kind Mel."
Not the desired answer. Cisse nearly bit her lip instinctively, holding back. No more emotional display. But his next words differed from expectation.
"Hearing of letters, I feared you'd waver—wanted to cut him down."
Exposed nature made him frank. Slightly lying on letters—from Alpheus.
"This morning, His Majesty summoned me. To cease harsh acts toward Sir Alpheus."
"Harsh acts?"
"Yes."
Sir Ailes spoke expressionlessly.
"Pushed relentlessly under training pretext. Ordinary man would've fled. Petty torment."
To stunned Cisse at unexpected words, he asserted.
"That's who I am."
Fragment of the Broken Glass Slipper
Novel by Yeolmae
Author: Yeolmae
Publisher: Kwon Tae-wan, Woo Cheon-je
eBook Publication Date: 2017-12-22
Production: CL Production
Address: 1108-ho, 41 Digital-ro 31-gil, Guro-gu, Seoul
This book is published as an eBook by KWBOOKS under contract with the copyright holder.
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