Translator: Nox

53 - The Time of the Blind Beast (15+ Revised Edition)

Chapter 53

"You've been through a lot."

Merlo greeted her with perfect etiquette, his refined and sophisticated manners, glimpsed on their first meeting, rarely seen in such a rural setting.

"His Excellency is too busy with public affairs to leave Claris, but he is grateful for your dedication and efforts, Miss. As a token of his appreciation, I offer my thanks on his behalf."

What was I going to do when a day like this arrived?

I wanted to respond calmly, but my breath was too shallow; I could only manage to catch my breath. Though my eyes were open, I couldn't see. The colors of the world had vanished. All the sounds around me became a jumbled mess. It was overwhelming and dizzying.

An untimely chill swept in.

It was a harbinger of winter's approach.

Winter. The season when I first met him, and the season when we had to part again.

When did time flow this quickly?

It felt like only yesterday I was crammed into a narrow stagecoach, enduring the bone-chilling cold, jolting along. Now, spring, summer, and autumn had passed together. And before I knew it, a second winter was upon us.

Rose cast her gaze toward the distant laundry room. The sensation of hot, damp steam wetting her face returned. On the day I knocked on the mansion's door and was assigned to the laundry room, I was filled with hope that I could atone for my past by doing any chore. Looking back, I was just a naive fool that day.

I found myself stopping abruptly, looking around the places I stood.

When I first entered the mansion, every part of it was unfamiliar. I remembered a time when, carrying a basket full of laundry, I carefully tiptoed along the edge of a dark corridor, stealing glances in the direction of his bedroom. Back then, the tightly shut door to his room felt as distant as another world. But now, I had grown accustomed to the daily routine of sleeping and waking in that room with him.

The man who had held down my limbs on a night of thunder and lightning, suspecting my identity and binding me fearfully, had transformed into the man who covered my ears on rainy nights. Just recently, I stirred in my sleep upon hearing the rain drumming against the window, and his firm, warm hand gently traced its way up to cup my ear. As the noise was blocked, I fell back into a quiet sleep.

Only upon waking in the morning did I fully register Ezekiel's hand covering my face. He, who was sensitive to sound, must have heard the rain far more loudly, yet he had tried to protect my peaceful sleep.

The power of time was formidable.

I had simply lived each day, and now there was no place without memories. I was afraid. Everywhere I looked, there were too many traces of the Rose of days past, of the Ezekiel of days past.

But goodbye to those past selves now.

Tomorrow morning, Dr. Briman would arrive, and the two doctors would begin preparations for the surgery.

Standing at the mansion's entrance, Rose looked at the path they had walked together on a night when both rain and moon had vanished. The firmly tied string, though occasionally soaked by rain and battered by wind, still held its place. But after tomorrow, it would no longer be needed.

It was right. It was the correct thing to do. My head knew it, yet a sense of emptiness washed over me at the thought of my traces disappearing one by one, and at my own position, which should leave no traces.

"You're lost in thought today, Rose."

Ezekiel's presence, which had drawn near unnoticed, roused Rose from her reverie.

"You've barely said a few words all day. What's wrong?"

"Ah..."

Was that so? I hadn't realized.

Rose forced her voice to rise. "I was thinking about what kind of mood you were in when you walked this path. Do you remember that day?"

"I remember. How could I forget?"

Behind Rose, Ezekiel gazed into the deep darkness.

"There wasn't a day I didn't despair at being unable to see, but that was the only exception. The wind felt refreshing after so long. The air was clear, you were holding my hand, and I felt a strange mix of excitement and peace."

He smiled faintly. "The form I imagined as I walked that day was probably more beautiful than the garden you actually saw."

"What were you imagining?"

"You."

It was an unexpected answer.

Rose looked up at Ezekiel, her gaze steady. "I imagined your story. It was a rare day when you spoke a lot about yourself. You, a prim young student who occasionally caused cute accidents at school... and..."

Rose also recalled. That was the night she had rambled on about safe school stories to avoid arousing Ezekiel's suspicion about her identity.

"...the many more seasons we would spend together."

"......"

"Sometimes I regret it. If I had met you earlier, I might have faced today more smoothly, without falling into drink and opium."

"...Do you think meeting me was fortunate?"

"Fortunate isn't enough. Meeting you is the greatest luck of my life."

What should I do?

What on earth should I do?

My throat kept constricting. It wasn't a day to cry, and I didn't deserve to cry, but I wanted to weep. Rose cleared her throat with a short cough, soothing her stinging eyes and aching throat.

Could I endure it?

The moment this man learned that the woman he called 'the greatest luck of my life' was, in fact, the same person who brought the greatest misfortune into his life...

Could I bear it?

"And I will soon become the greatest happiness in your life," Ezekiel whispered.

He had just received the diamond ring, its setting finally complete, through Madam Serva. He had kept the ring hidden for a surprise proposal. After that, time felt like it was passing too slowly, which was frustrating. He was determined not to wait another day once his eyes recovered after the surgery.

"Next time, we'll walk this path together with both our eyes open."

Next...

Rose's lips moved, silently forming the word.

Next.

Would there be a next for us?

Every moment of today was precious, more so than a vague and even anxious 'next.' Rose tried to look at his face as much as possible. She strove to remember every detail. The day she faced Ezekiel's complete face might be the last. While recovering from surgery, her eyes would be covered with bandages, so she had to look at those deep, dark, sapphire eyes as much as she could now.

"Major. Is it alright to look at the light now?"

"It's fine. Why?"

"Then let's sleep with the curtains open tonight."

If the moonlight poured in through the open window... I could look at his face for longer. I could look at him all night long.

"Let's do that."

The man who nodded without knowing anything made my heart crumble further. Rose opened her eyes wide, holding back tears.

The bluish moonlight bathed the bed.

Rose cupped Ezekiel's face in her hands. Ezekiel's arm was already pulling Rose's back tightly against him.

The lovers desperately sought each other's lips. Tongues pushed in, licked, and intertwined. The sound of soft inner lips sticking and separating was sticky.

Rose tried to focus on the delicate sensations he conveyed. The vast terror kept surging whenever she thought this time would not come again. If this was the case, she wanted to be utterly disheveled as quickly as possible.

The man's lips, leaving marks on her collarbone, were warm. Rose pressed her shoulder closer, allowing the bruises to imprint more clearly on her body.

Marks left by lips, as easily made, are also easily erased. That was sometimes sad. I wished they would remain for a very long time, but it felt like a waste and a pity that they faded so quickly, like a dream that is forgotten soon after waking.

Ezekiel's lips, which had lingered near her collarbone for a while, slid down. As the tightly tied front of her garment obstructed his entry, he skillfully untied the knot of the fabric. In the most efficient way, and quite boldly. It was the result of countless times their bodies had fit together.

The man, who had explored and studied every inch of her body numerous times, now knew Rose's body better than his own. He knew where to touch, with what force, and how much, without causing her pain, and that she was particularly ticklish on the part connecting her side to her chest, and near her waist.

Today, Rose also caressed every inch of Ezekiel's body. She stroked him as he did her, inhaled his scent, and imprinted kisses, etching sensory memories onto his body and into her mind.

As she intertwined her fingers with his long, firm ones, she even counted the pulse beating at his wrist. Despite the surgery he had so eagerly awaited being so close, his bold pulse remained steady.

The reason she counted his pulse was because of her own heart, which was pounding so loudly that she could feel the vibration traveling through her veins. The surging beat was audible to me, so it was impossible that his ears wouldn't detect it.

"You're the one getting surgery, so why is your heart beating so fast?"

The man, who had buried his face in her chest and was licking her soft skin, chuckled and gently patted her heart.

Rose used the excuse he provided to keep her mouth shut.

...Ah, no, there was one thing she wanted him to know.

She trembled because of the outcome of the surgery he had to undergo,

and she trembled out of fear of the approaching tomorrow...

"My heart always beats like this when I'm with you, Major."

She trembled simply because of his existence, with no way to help it.