His hand slowly moved toward Daphne’s hills. It climbed the slope, finally lingered at the peak, then slowly descended down.

When even the thin negligee was finally removed without a sound.

More than her dazzlingly white bare body, something else caught Astaire’s gaze.

Her flushed face.

The woman’s eyes filled entirely with only him. The blue sea had now transformed into an unfathomable deep ocean.

He wanted to fall into this woman’s eyes forever.

The thought struck him that intensely.

Astaire gently caressed her cheek, flushed under the moonlight. Then he turned his hand and thoroughly touched the woman’s features.

This woman is alive.

Under my hands, this woman is alive and breathing.

Astaire wanted to confirm it.

As his fingers moved, her lush eyelashes twitched. He could feel her pupils moving back and forth beyond her thin eyelids.

Then he moved his hand to her nose bridge where he could feel the straight bone.

It rose steeply, then dropped sharply at the tip.

Finally, her lips.

Upper lip, and the fuller lower lip. He vaguely felt scabs stuck to his fingertips.

“What on earth is tormenting you?”

The man asked though he knew the answer.

Yet at the same time, he didn’t want to hear the answer. He refused to admit that Daphne was suffering because of him.

Just smile in front of me.

That’s what he wanted to say.

“No, don’t answer.”

The man pressed down firmly on the woman’s lips with his index finger. He felt the lips that had tried to resist gradually lose their strength.

Yes. Submit to me like that.

Finally, the man’s large shadow completely swallowed the woman’s small shadow.

From head to toe, the man bit and consumed her like he would possess this woman entirely.

On bare skin, her br*asts were roughly crushed. Astaire licked Daphne’s pale, round *reola with his tongue. Then he lightly bit the very peak of the round hill—something resembling an apple stem—with his lips and shook it.

“Hng, mmm… Ah!”

Little by little, little by little. He began sucking her br*ast. Within the faint pain, though she hated to admit it, excitement bloomed.

Daphne clenched her lips tight, trying to suppress her m*ans.

“Nnngh… Ugh, haa!”

Eventually it became unbearable.

Starting from her br*asts, Astaire slowly moved downward. The moment the man’s tongue touched her navel, Daphne curled her toes again.

Watching the flowers he’d planted turn red with heat, Astaire smiled with satisfaction.

“Ah.”

Daphne twisted her body like a creature just pulled from water. The white bed sheets crumpled wildly with their movements.

Astaire was finally satisfied.

He didn’t want to hear words. But he wanted to hear sounds.

Firm legs and soft legs tangled together on the bed.

So her tender crown wouldn’t hit the hard headboard, he gently cradled her head with one hand.

The softness of her chocolate-colored hair felt through his fingertips nearly made him lose consciousness again.

He didn’t want to be rough.

But if he kept looking straight into her eyes like this, he felt he’d gradually lose his reason.

So Astaire lowered his head and buried his face by her ear.

Hot breath scattered over her soft, curved earlobe.

“Hk, hng…”

Daphne made sounds that could be crying or pleasure.

She reached her hand into the air.

Without fail, the man caught her hand.

Over the crumpled sheets, the interlocked hands of the man and woman dug deep.

Astaire felt Daphne’s nail marks deepening on his back. Yet he didn’t feel pain.

They didn’t have much time left.

Both instinctively realized it.

* * *

It was the deep dawn when even the wind had fallen asleep.

After rain fell throughout the early morning, wet droplets beaded on the leaves.

Daphne noticed the dampened air and gently woke from sleep, opening her eyes.

“Ugh…”

Then she let out a heavy breath, her breathing constricted.

She tried to move her body but couldn’t.

What was weighing her down?

Rustle—she heard the sound of blankets sliding.

“Ah.”

Only then did Daphne realize who was binding her. It was Astaire.

The man who’d held her desperately just hours ago.

His breath that had been hot enough to burn now tickled the back of her neck, having calmed completely.

This feeling is strange.

Daphne lightly bit her lips where his fingers had grazed, and moved her body slightly to escape from Astaire’s embrace.

That’s when it happened.

“Don’t go.”

A voice far too clear for someone supposedly asleep.

Daphne tried to turn to look at Astaire, but even then he held her with all his strength and wouldn’t let go.

So she couldn’t turn to look at him.

But feeling his languidly spreading breath, Daphne realized Astaire was still deep in sleep.

He was thinking of her even while sleeping.

“…You.”

In the silence, Daphne murmured quietly.

Suddenly her breath caught in her throat.

“Don’t go.”

Astaire spoke again. This time his pronunciation was more garbled. Meanwhile, the grip binding her only tightened.

Daphne grabbed his arm, suffocating.

Then another thought suddenly occurred to her.

Wasn’t there a fable about how to remove a traveler’s coat—not by blowing stronger wind, but by shining bright sunlight?

So Daphne whispered quietly.

“I won’t go anywhere.”

Only then did the grip that had bound her like rope gradually loosen.

Daphne caught her ragged breath and stared quietly at the room wall.

Strangely, even though she’d escaped his embrace, she didn’t want to leave the bed.

Why?

She kept thinking of Astaire lying behind her.

Daphne carefully turned her body to face Astaire.

“Your Grace.”

He didn’t answer.

“Astaire.”

“Mmm.”

A small laugh escaped her.

Even in his dreams, he didn’t respond to honorifics, only reacting to his name.

But the laughter was brief.

“Are you okay?”

Soon Daphne asked seriously, seeing Astaire suddenly break into cold sweat and grimace.

Astaire had a dream that day.

A terrible nightmare.

A dream of Daphne running away.

That day, the weather was excessively nice.

Nice enough to make one think of escaping.

Bright yellow sunlight poured through the transparent window, and somewhere sparrows chirped.

But when he opened his eyes, only you were missing.

Just crumpled bed sheets remained.

“Daphne.”

At first he only called her name quietly.

“Daphne?”

He thought surely that small woman would respond if he called. Could she have run away?

“Daphne!”

If you were going to leave, at least say something before going. Like that time. Then he could at least see you off.

Dreams felt like reality, reality felt like dreams.

Astaire belatedly accepted the situation and called her name.

Like a madman, he went down to the first floor. The entire way down, the estate was quiet with no one visible, not even the staff.

Like Daphne had taken everyone and disappeared.

“Daphne!”

He called her name until veins bulged in his neck. Naturally, no voice returned.

“Ah…”

His legs gave out. The man barely stood by grabbing a pillar.

Daphne had left.

How could you do this?

At first he denied reality. Then unbearable anger surged.

Whether that anger was about her betraying and leaving him or something else—even Astaire couldn’t tell.

Astaire ran blindly out of the estate.

Ahead, the heavy iron gates stood wide open on both sides.

So that’s how Daphne could slip out without a sound.

“I’ll never forgive you.”

If he found Daphne this time.

He’d imprison her inside him for life.

So she couldn’t escape anywhere.

So no one could find her.

So no one could torment her.

Because only his embrace was where Daphne could be safe.

Astaire believed this firmly.

* * *

“Haa.”

Astaire’s eyes flew open. The moment he opened them, he faced the ornately decorated bedroom ceiling.

Only then did he realize he’d woken from a dream and returned to reality.

He gasped for breath.

His broad chest rose and fell rapidly. Cold sweat trickled down his temples. When he sat up, even the pillow was soaked.

Clearly a dream, yet still vivid as reality.

Astaire stared into space, clenching and unclenching his fist. Even his palms were damp.

The room was strangely quiet.

And these chills running down his spine.

He whipped his head around.

The space beside him was empty.

Astaire’s face went deathly pale.

He frantically threw off the blankets. Though he knew Daphne couldn’t be hiding there.

Daphne was nowhere.

“Daphne!”

Forcing his locked throat open from just waking, Astaire called her name.

The man tried to rush out of the bedroom.

Just like in the dream.

But then.

Slide—the door opened soundlessly.

Daphne appeared from behind the door.

“Are you okay?”

Seeing Astaire’s pale face, Daphne strode over and asked.

“…Is that what you should be saying right now?”

Astaire shouted, swatting away Daphne’s hand trying to touch him.

Daphne looked bewildered.

Why was he angry at her?

Only after confirming Daphne’s expression did Astaire finally realize his mistake.

I’m sorry.

The words that couldn’t leave lingered long in his mouth. His tongue tasted terribly bitter.

“…”

Instead, Astaire maintained silence.

Daphne was already sickeningly accustomed to this Astaire anyway. She said nothing more either.

Astaire quietly looked down at Daphne, then opened his mouth in an awkward voice.

“I thought you’d left again.”

Suddenly, a deep shadow crossed Daphne’s face.

Astaire felt his mouth go bone dry. But he couldn’t stop speaking.

“…So, so. I…”

Words came out in broken fragments. For a moment, Astaire experienced his mind going completely blank. What should he say?

But Daphne just smiled quietly.

A smile like a calm lake.

Like she knew exactly what he was trying to say.

Astaire suddenly felt his heart pricked by a needle. This feeling—unpleasant.

“It’s okay.”

Daphne reached out her hand.

Firmly grasping Astaire’s hand, she spoke in a voice gentle as a lark.