Previously
Cordelia settles into luxurious captivity at Noah's villa in the port city of Narat, well cared for by the maid Jan while Noah remains absent on business. Late at night, an agonizing flare-up of chest pain forces her to take her medicine, leaving her feeling isolated and fearful of dying alone.
“Ow, my back. Huh?”
Someone rubbed his lower back, raised his head, and locked eyes directly with Cordelia. He was a handsome young man with curly blonde hair and violet eyes. Judging by his undone necktie, crumpled coat, and the smell of alcohol wafting all the way over to her, he seemed far more like an idler than a burglar.
Did he get drunk and stumble into the wrong mansion? But wouldn’t there be guards? While she cast him a wary look, the stranger also blinked in surprise, rubbed his eyes, and looked her up and down.
“A maid? Doesn’t look like one. Who are you?”
That was what she wanted to ask.
When Cordelia took a step back without answering, he pressed a hand to his brow as if nursing a headache from the drink and winced.
“I didn’t hear anything about Navia Mansion having a houseguest. And there isn’t a single business partner of Noah’s I don’t know. Ah, could it be…?”
Muttering to himself, the young man seemed to sober up at once and asked again in astonishment.
“I truly hope not, but are you by any chance Lord Noah Tudor’s lover? Seeing as you’re staying under the same roof, must be quite serious…”
“No, I’m not!”
She cried out on reflex, but her voice cracked, startling her into a fit of coughing. As she hacked, he looked utterly flustered, scrambled about, hastily poured a glass of water, and strode toward her. Cupping a hand over her mouth, Cordelia shrank back, squaring her shoulders like a cat puffing its tail. It was an involuntary revulsion born from having a strange, drunken man approach her.
Seeing her frightened posture, the young man scratched his head with an embarrassed look and held up his hands.
“Look, I’m not anyone suspicious. May I ask your name, my lady? I am, well, Lord Tudor’s relative. Wait, you look like you’re from the upper class—don’t you know me? There isn’t a soul in high society who doesn’t know who I am.”
He wore quite an aggrieved expression. Ah, so he was Noah Tudor’s family. They bore no resemblance whatsoever, but she offered a sheepish smile, softening her guard just a little. Looking at him longer, he even seemed somewhat approachable.
“Hello. I am… someone indebted to Lord Tudor. My name is Cordelia… Marguerite.”
After a brief hesitation, she added her family name in a near whisper. But the man did not seem to mind at all, flashing a broad smile as he placed a hand over his chest and offered a casual bow.
“Cordelia! Jewel of the sea. What a lovely name. Forgive my rudeness; I had no idea my brother had a guest. I am Wayne Heryan.”
Had Cordelia been well versed in society, she would have realized at once that he belonged to the Grand Ducal House of Heryan, possessing looks that carried imperial blood. But having grown up her entire life in a backwater colony on the empire’s fringes, she simply thought of him as a remarkably good-natured man.
Swept along by his warm, eager charm—much like a golden retriever ready to wag its tail off—Cordelia sat down hesitantly across the table from him as he set down a glass of water in front of her.
“Did you come down for some water? Summer arrives early in the south, so it’s easy to toss and turn through the night.”
“Yes…”
“If you aren’t used to the weather here, you must be from elsewhere. Your skin isn’t sun-kissed at all, so I wondered if you were from the north.”
He was skilled at social graces and fundamentally kind. With his comfortable conversational lead and considerate demeanor, Cordelia gradually relaxed. Although being treated like a true noble lady felt extraordinarily awkward—even if, strictly speaking, that was what she was—it was not an unpleasant feeling.
“I’m from Jeneca.”
“Ah, Jeneca! I’ve heard it’s a wonderful place. The descendants of merfolk live there, don’t they? And the sea has such a splendid hue. I’ve always wanted to visit at least once. You must hail from a fine town.”
He possessed the knack for phrasing every word in a way that pleased the listener. Thanks to his cheerful expression and sparkling eyes, his remarks felt uplifting rather than flattering. Just like Shasha Ander, he was someone whole and complete, completely free of lack.
That was why she admired and envied him, yet at the same time, it forced her to look back upon her own shadows….
Ah.
“Um, if you don’t mind my asking, what sort of relationship do you have with Brother Noah? Noah is, well, just as he looks, haha. He’s particular, so he never lets just anyone into his house. Especially staying for days—that’s practically unheard of…”
She realized why he had felt so familiar.
Wayne Heryan resembled Jonathan, Cordelia’s former fiancé. Their appearances and personalities were distinctly different, but the air about them….
As Cordelia’s face swiftly drained of color, Wayne’s smile gradually faded. “Miss Cordelia?”
Thump. Her heart gave a sudden, hard beat.
Her trembling hands gripped the fabric of her skirt. Before she knew it, her fingertips had turned cold as ice. The flutter was brief, and her heart soon settled back into a normal rhythm, but a dull ache lingered in its wake. Why now? She had already taken her medicine. Was it because she had thought of Jonathan after so long? Being sick and hurting alone was fine, but having a witness was unacceptable.
Even if she was currently steeped in a luxurious life, Cordelia was nothing more than a debtor, living on borrowed time at the grace and mercy of Noah Tudor.
Having playfully granted her a one-year reprieve, there was no telling how he would react if he learned she was an invalid on the verge of death at any moment. And no matter how kind Wayne might be, he was ultimately Noah’s family.
“Are you all right? Your expression…”
“N-No, I’m fine. I… I should really be going…”
Cordelia offered an awkward smile and tried to stand up in a hurry, only for her foot to slip. “Huh?” Just as a bewildered Wayne reached out to steady her, a firm arm locked around her waist. Pulled back by such unyielding strength, Cordelia’s eyes flew wide at the crisp scent of the sea wrapping around her.
“It seems, Miss Cordelia, that every time I see you in the dead of night, you are troubled by drunks.”
‘What a peculiar taste you have.’
Meeting crimson eyes shaded with languid amusement, Cordelia swallowed hard. Noah Tudor, dressed in a robe with the damp ends of his hair falling loose, was looking down at her with his head tilted at a slight angle.
The moment she recognized Noah, Cordelia scrambled back. He let her go without resistance, but as her footing remained unsteady, he slipped an arm out to support her back. It was a touch as light as a feather, barely grazing her, so Cordelia never noticed. In truth, she was too preoccupied reading the mood of the strikingly handsome man she had not seen in days.
With his bangs down and an easygoing, supple air about him, Noah seemed like a completely different person from during the day. He looked younger, freer, carrying a raw, primal edge. It was as if a beast that had politely feigned wearing a collar had casually sauntered out of its cage at nightfall to groom its coat.
While she stared at him, he was likewise observing her after days apart.
Noah’s gaze swept over her slightly fuller cheeks and the damp corners of her eyes before taking in her rather pale face, and he spoke with an edge of irritation.
“Did that fellow hit on you just because he was drunk?”
“Pardon?”
Noah offered no response, only a blunt stare that seemed to say, ‘Asking again, are we?’ Cordelia glanced sideways at the bewildered Wayne and shook her head vigorously.
“N-No. Not at all.”
“Then why do you look as limp and listless as a starved chick?”
“I-I’m sorry.”
She had no idea why, but she felt she had to apologize. Though she had actually been fed very well. She had never eaten so well in all her life.
Overwhelmed by his imposing presence, she had no idea how to explain herself and could only part and close her lips repeatedly like a chick’s beak, until Wayne finally couldn’t bear to watch any longer and intervened.
“Noah, what kind of way is that to speak to a lady?”
With an idle gaze that wondered if she had suffered from stunted growth due to malnutrition, Noah absently scrutinized her slender wrists and delicate neck before offering a dull retort.
“Haven’t you left yet?”
“Wow, didn’t you hear me earlier? I asked you to let me crash here! Father kicked me out.”
“Go to Joseph. Why make a fuss here when you have an older brother?”
“Brother Joseph nags too much.”
“Then go whine to Aunt Eliza or your sister like you always do.”
“Mother says she won’t bail me out anymore either. And my sister’s busy. She is the… after all.”
Grumbling like a boy, the young man paused and glanced hesitantly at Cordelia, letting his words trail off. Noah, catching the hint with uncanny sharpness, let out a soft snort.
“Miss Cordelia, meet my cousin, Wayne Heryan. The troublesome younger brother of Her Majesty the Empress.”
“Ah, come on, Noah!”
Wayne snapped in annoyance. Cordelia’s eyes widened. If he was the empress’s brother, that meant he belonged to the imperial family. Even Cordelia, sheltered from worldly affairs, knew that the new emperor, Castilla IV, had married his cousin. When she stammered an apology for her discourtesy in bewilderment, Wayne scratched his head in embarrassment and let out a sigh.