“If you understood what I just said, then get lost. As you can see, there are plenty of people looking for me now.”

Windsor stood there, unmoving—like someone whose soul had just slipped away. A part of Tilda feared he might lash out, but she didn’t let a trace of it show.

“Count Nokilla!”

Someone called out Windsor’s name—it sounded like one of his attendants.

Windsor slowly lifted his head.

“We’ll talk again later.”

Tilda didn’t respond, but Windsor walked off anyway, as if he’d secured some kind of promise from her.

The moment he disappeared, Tilda finally let out the breath she’d been holding, her hidden tension dissolving into a quiet sigh.

The time spent confronting Windsor hadn’t been long but her whole body felt sore, as if it had taken something out of her.

‘Exhausting.’

Seeing him again brought back memories of the darkest days of her life. She remembered the way he used to laugh at her. Blame her.

“People say I’m the most unfortunate groom around, you know. Married to a woman as stiff as a board—useless in bed, like a block of wood.”

“Can’t you just behave for once? Do you know how humiliating it was for me at the party…?”
“That’s why people call you a witch. That’s why they talk behind your back.”

Even after hearing things like that for years during their marriage. His words always cut her like thorns, tearing across her chest, fresh and sharp.

Tilda looked down at the black pond, the moon’s light floating on its surface like a faint mist.

There was a time when she’d stood by waters like this, wishing she could sink deep beneath them and disappear without leaving a trace.

But not anymore. She didn’t know why, but at that moment, Calle’s quiet, offhand comfort came to mind: “I don’t think it was wrong for you to prioritise your pain back then.”

He had told her not to stray too far but, without realising it, the distance between them had grown.

Just then, as Tilda resolved to return to the hall, her vision suddenly went dark.

‘Damn it… not now! Why does it have to be now?’

She considered waiting quietly until Calles found her. But the thought made her anxious. She was too anxious to simply stay put.

What if Aklaire had left the Great Hall earlier, but was still nearby? And was watching her?

The idea of someone lying in wait behind her back while she stood there blind was terrifying! It was a fear she hadn’t even realised she had!

It was something she hadn’t realised while staying in Calles secure home. Cautiously, Tilda took a step forward, feeling her way. She was still near the pond.

Suddenly, there was a loud caw — a jackdaw had cried out nearby, startling her and causing her to lose her footing.

Splash!

She plunged into the cold pond in an instant.

Memories of drinking poisoned tea and being thrown into the dark sea returned, and Tilda began to flail around in panic.

Puhah!

She just about managed to grab a rock around the edge of the pond and pull her face above the water, gasping for breath.

“Haa… haa…”

Thankfully, she had something to hold onto. However, her soaked dress was heavy and, with the bottom of the pond too deep to reach, she couldn’t get out.

“You look like a drowned rat.”

A voice came from the darkness. Tilda turned her empty gaze towards it.

“Calles?”

“I’m sure I told you not to wander around.”

He seemed to be standing there looking down at her, but didn’t move to pull her out of the pond.

“I didn’t have a choice.”

“Are you sure it’s not because you still have feelings for your ex-husband?”

Had he seen her talking to Windsor? Tilda was slightly surprised, but couldn’t fathom why he was bringing it up.

The way he said it made it sound like he was accusing her of something, and she didn’t like it.

“Shouldn’t you be asking yourself the same thing? You were too busy distracting yourself with other people to notice I was being dragged off by Windsor!”

The words came out sharper than she had intended. The image of him surrounded by women, smiling innocently like a harmless priest, flashed vividly through her mind.

Calles didn’t respond. She could only hear the faint sound of him exhaling.

“I never took my eyes off you. Not even for a second.”

“Then why didn’t you come to me right away?”

“Because I wanted to be sure.”

‘What on earth was he trying to say?’

After being in the water for so long, she could feel the cold seeping into her bones. She just wanted to get out.

“If you’re not going to help me, then move aside.”

“You’ll have a hard time getting out on your own. You can’t see anything right now. What will you do once you’re out of the pond?”

Perhaps this was a warning about a long-forgotten feeling.

“Child who resembles me, give me that burning, crimson emotion. In return, I shall take away your pain.”

Tilda recalled that voice as if from a dream and clenched her fists tightly.

Grasping at whatever she could reach, she tried to pull her heavy body out of the pond by herself.

“Ah!”

But her strength gave out. The grass she had clung to tore loose, and she slipped back into the water.

She flailed her arms, trying to break the surface again, but her wide skirt tangled around her limbs, making movement even more difficult.

Just then—splash!

Something strong wrapped around her. The embrace was firm, brimming with energy and life.

“Haa!”

As soon as she broke through the surface, the breath she had been holding burst from her lungs.

“Damn it! There isn’t a single obedient bone in your body, is there?”

Calles irritated voice rang sharply in her ear.

Yet, even as he snapped at her, he held her tightly, ensuring she wouldn’t fall back in.

He lifted Tilda out of the pond with such ease that all her earlier efforts seemed pointless.

A moment later, she heard the sound of water being wrung from fabric — Calles must have climbed out of the pond too.

“Was it really that hard to just ask for help?”

“…”

Tilda remained silent, avoiding an answer.

Then she felt something being placed gently over her shoulders — dry clothes.

“Just go back to your room now.”

“If I suddenly disappear like this, people will start asking questions.”

“And don’t you think that walking back into the party looking like that would be even suspicious?”

Tilda had no comeback. She didn’t need a mirror to know that she looked a mess.

“I’ll tell Lizard to come up with an excuse and let everyone know. So stop worrying about pointless things.”

With those words, Calles swiftly lifted her into his arms.

Although she could still not see, she could feel her face growing hot against his broad chest.

After about five minutes, she heard the soft snort of a horse and the stomping of its hooves.

Then came the creak of the carriage door. As they boarded, the sound of crickets faded, and the warmth inside the carriage slowly began to ease the cold in her body.

Once they were finally inside the enclosed space, away from prying eyes, Tilda felt a sense of relief wash over her. The tension in her body eased.

“You’re not running a fever again, are you?”

Calles muttered, pulling her closer into his arms.

Usually, she would have pushed him away and insisted that she was fine, but tonight, his embrace felt warm and comforting. She had no desire to resist it.

Still half-asleep, she must have dozed off until they arrived at her room.

Her eyelids were growing heavier when something suddenly jolted her awake — a large hand brushing against her back.

Calles fingers had found the ribbon that fastened the back of her dress.

“What are you doing?”

“I can’t let you fall asleep like this.”

Tilda was reminded that her clothes were still soaked.

He was right — if she slept in them, she would pay for it the next day.

However, the idea of having her dress removed while she couldn’t see properly made her deeply uneasy.

Undressing by herself was no easy feat in her current state, though.

“Call for Stella.”

“Stella hasn’t returned from the Great Hall yet.”

Tilda lowered her head, her unseen gaze falling as she bit her lip in frustration.

“What’s there to be embarrassed about? I’ve seen it all before.”

“Calles!”

Without waiting for permission, he started to undo the buttons of her dress.

When they got tangled up, he simply tore the fabric off as if it were in his way.

The fact that she couldn’t see while he could see her made her feel even more exposed.

Before he could touch her undergarments, Tilda spoke up in a panic.

“Restore my vision first.”

There was no response from Calles.

Normally, her sight would return over time, but to hasten the process, he had to enter her body with his energy.

“You’re surprisingly forward.”

He said with a hint of amusement. The only way for his energy to flow into her was through a kiss.

“It’s better than being completely exposed in front of you like this.”

Either option would work just fine for him. How could someone be so shameless?

As Tilda frowned in irritation, Calles pressed his lips to hers.

The surge of his energy hit her with force — something she had experienced several times before, but which she still couldn’t get used to due to its sheer magnitude and vitality.

As it spread through her body, the darkness gradually lifted and her vision returned.

He should have realised that was enough. Yet Calles continued to deepen the kiss, exploring the inside of her mouth with his tongue.

Even with his long lashes casting shadows over his eyes, the intensity of his desire was almost scorching.

“…”

‘Was this the expression he always wore when he kissed me?’

Tilda found herself staring blankly at his face for a moment, until his rough hand slipped beneath her undergarments and brushed along her shoulder. She was startled so much by this that she bit his tongue.

He didn’t seem to be in pain. Instead, he slowly opened his eyes and pulled away.

“You always have such a harsh way of saying thank you.”

“And you always do things like this, don’t you?”

Tilda glared at him, pulling the blanket up to cover herself.

“What kind of answer were you expecting? To you, I’m already nothing more than a pervert in heat, rutting like a beast.”

At his playful response, Tilda’s eyebrows furrowed.

“It’s not just with me, either.”

Calles ran a hand through his hair.

It was still damp — he must have fallen into the pond too.