Previously
Eleanora successfully spreads a rumor that Killian suffers from war-related nerve damage to deter unwanted female visitors, a plan Killian surprisingly accepts. While Eleanora remains wary of Killian's naturally abrasive personality, she notices him watching her from his window.
When Killian asked again, sounding as though he had no idea what he meant, Owen gave a foolish grin.
That sweet feeling that made the heart pound so hard that merely speaking to the beloved turned into an ordeal; the dread of revealing an unlovely side of oneself before them; the fret that the other might notice these feelings and pull even further away.
Killian listened to Owen brag about his wife with only half an ear, his mind wholly fixed on the phrase “pure love.”
Though he felt a touch of pity for Owen, he believed words like ‘pure’ or ‘sincere’ had no business being attached to feelings of love.
Be it lust, an appetite for glory, or simply the urge to possess something beautiful, love was nothing more than a noble label slapped onto a sticky obsession born of desires.
And it was not just Owen who thought this feeling exalted; all of humanity did.
If people made even the slightest effort to grasp the reality and essence of love, the entire human race would never have fallen prey to such a terrifying illusion.
Did that mean Eleanora, too, now harbored feelings toward him wrapped in the name of ‘love,’ when they were truly a blend of possessiveness and profound desire?
( ‘Ha, how long has she even known me?’ )
Well, Killian was the sort of man who could make others want to possess him after a single meeting.
Wasn’t his appearance exceptional? Weren’t his circumstances splendid?
( ‘Even so, when I act this horribly, people usually get sick of me and leave.’ )
That was how normal human beings behaved. Why didn’t Eleanora do the same?
Was it because he was so magnificent that giving up on him was simply impossible? Hmm… perhaps.
A faint smile crept onto his lips before he knew it, and he shook his head.
( ‘Either way, this puts me in an awkward spot.’ )
Under ordinary circumstances, he would have written her off as just another strange woman clinging to him and kicked up a fuss over it.
Oddly enough, he did not feel that way this time. Instead, he felt something akin to a prick of conscience.
After all, wasn’t Eleanora shouldering all this trouble just to win his favor?
Even when he threw sharp words at her, she did nothing but smile.
And though she loved him to this extent, her shyness kept her from approaching him directly.
Ah, there was enough in that to make anyone feel guilty.
( ‘Guilty?’ )
When he thought about it, this was the very first time he had ever felt sorry for being unable to return someone’s feelings.
Still, he was human, too. It was only natural to feel some guilt when seeing someone devote herself to him to such a degree.
‘Even so, it doesn’t harm me.’
She was resolving all those bothersome problems quietly and without complaint, simply because she held feelings for him. From his point of view, there was no harm in letting her keep loving him.
In fact, if he looked closely at the matter, he did not even need to feel guilty. He had never begged her to love him.
She was the one who had offered her heart of her own accord and devoted herself entirely to him. There was no reason for him to fret over it or feel sorry.
( ‘Still… will she keep lingering around me from now on?’ )
She had gotten rid of the bothersome women on his behalf, so she might assume he had begun to look upon her a little more favorably.
And she would probably act like a little pup waiting for praise.
( ‘Hah… I already feel suffocated and annoyed.’ )
Startled by Owen’s sudden question, Killian furrowed his brows.
What kind of nonsense was that?
He was already getting a headache over the thought of that woman starting to pester him.
Before he could finish his sentence, chills ran down his entire body. He spun around at once and stared at the curtain.
He felt as though something were behind it—outside.
( ‘Are the women back?’ )
They had been gone for quite a while; had one of them returned?
Or had he simply grown overly sensitive?
Yet it felt different from before. It was as if his instincts were screaming at him, warning of danger.
He felt he had to check. He reached for the curtain, but his hand trembled.
( ‘No need to check.’ )
Even if someone was out there, it would only be one of the townswomen. If their eyes happened to meet, the situation would only become more vexing.
Killian pulled his hand back in the end. Still, the uneasy feeling nestled in his chest refused to fade.
After another hectic day of house calls, Eleanora was not able to head home until dusk began to fall.
‘It’s gotten so late.’
Once the sun dipped below the horizon, even familiar roads became difficult to walk.
Hurrying along her path, she crossed paths with an unexpected figure near Killian’s mansion.
( ‘That woman…?’ )
It was the woman who had asked her for directions earlier.
This was hardly a place strangers wandered into. Had she lost her way and ended up here?
( ‘Why is she standing there so still, though?’ )
She stood completely motionless, just like the women who used to come hoping to see Killian.
When Eleanora called out, the woman flinched slightly, caught off guard.
She seemed so lost in thought that she had not noticed Eleanora approaching, even when she was right beside her.
Or had she been fixated on something else?
Eleanora added in a gentle tone.
The woman peered at Eleanora’s face through the gathering gloom, as though trying to make out her features.
The woman voiced the very question Eleanora had meant to ask.
As Eleanora blinked, preparing to reply, the woman’s upper lip curled.
It was entirely unexpected. How did a stranger even know he was staying here?
At that moment, the night chill brushed against Eleanora’s skin, raising goosebumps along her flesh.
The woman looked up, glaring fiercely. She looked ready to pounce at any second, but Eleanora remained calm.
The woman’s eyes widened markedly, and she tilted her head in suspicion.
Eleanora’s eyes narrowed sharply.
While it was indeed a lie, for this woman to call her a quack meant she knew Killian did not suffer from that illness in the first place.
She said it as though the mere fact of her being a woman made it impossible.
Eleanora replied,
the woman muttered under her breath. Her reaction was bizarre, especially since Eleanora had just explained it.
‘I don’t believe she is entirely sound of mind.’
Eleanora opened her mouth to speak.
She spoke more coldly than ever before. The woman glared at her with a venomous look, brushed past her shoulder, and stalked away with an angry huff.
“…”
Eleanora turned to watch the retreating figure and shrugged.
( ‘Did she come to Oakbridge just to see Lord Blackwell?’ )
What kind of relationship did they have? Whatever it was, it certainly did not seem pleasant.
( ‘I suppose I ought to tell Lord Blackwell about this.’ )
She looked toward the mansion, which was so swallowed by darkness that it appeared deserted, and let out a sigh.
‘It’s too late now… I’ll go see him tomorrow.’
Shaking off the uneasy sensation, she turned around, realizing the woman had vanished completely from sight.
Eleanora went to bed earlier than usual.
She had nothing to do and was utterly exhausted. Yet sleep did not come easily.
The howling sound of the wind kept ringing in her ears, even though all the windows were closed and the weather was not windy in the least.
After tossing and turning for hours, she finally got up.
Her trouble with sleeping had started long ago. Falling asleep was difficult, and even when she managed to drift off, she would wake up abruptly throughout the night.
She could not tell whether it was due to what she had endured during the war or her longing for her parents. Even if she knew the cause, shaking off this wretched insomnia felt impossible.
Forgetting the horrific memories of war was impossible. Ridding herself of the longing for her family was equally out of reach.
‘Perhaps I’ll take a short walk.’
She grabbed her coat. Perhaps taking a deep breath of the cold air would calm her unsettled heart.
Strolling along at an unhurried pace, she found herself standing before Killian’s mansion before she even realized it, and let out a long sigh.
( ‘Even if I keep walking, nothing will change…’ )
She stopped in her tracks and turned to head back. But she cast a fleeting glance toward the mansion.
Eleanora’s eyes widened in shock. One of the ground-floor windows of the mansion had been completely shattered, smashed into pieces.