Chapter 1.3

There was clearly a misunderstanding. Natalie had never written a letter to Mr. Wharton.  

“It seems there’s been a misunderstanding.”  

It must have been someone else.  

Natalie tried to pull her hand away from Mr. Wharton’s grip. However, he didn’t let go.  

“Me, or you?”  

Instead, he tightened his grip and pulled Natalie closer to him. Startled by the sudden proximity, Natalie instinctively leaned her head back.  

“Up close, are my eyes not as radiant as the sun? Or are my lips, which resemble a ripened rose, a disappointment to you?”  

Without a change in his expression, Mr. Wharton calmly recited praises of his own beauty. It was clear that the letter he had received contained an ardent confession of love.  

It wasn’t me who wrote that letter!  

Natalie was about to say just that when he interrupted her.  

“What is it you hope to gain by sending something like that?”  

The eyes, which might have seemed like the sun to a lovestruck young lady, frowned disapprovingly, as if the love itself was distasteful. His reaction was that of someone utterly fed up with love confessions.  

Having helped countless others with their love letters, Natalie felt as though she had suddenly become the letter’s defender. She answered on behalf of all those who had spent sleepless nights harboring unrequited love.  

“They just want to express their feelings. Their love.”  

At her response, Mr. Wharton let out a small laugh, as though he had just heard a clumsy joke.  

“I had hoped for a different answer. Anything but that would have been less ridiculous.”  

“……”  

“Isn’t it absurd to love someone you hardly know? If beauty is all that matters, I’d rather love a painting in a gallery. At least a painting wouldn’t send me an embarrassing letter.”  

An embarrassing letter.  

The phrase instantly deflated all the pride Natalie had felt in crafting love letters for unrequited lovers.  

At the same time, however, Mr. Wharton’s words struck a nerve deep inside her. After all, she had thought the same thing before.  

What exactly is love?  

Why do people fall in love?  

These were questions Natalie often pondered during her moments of solitary daydreaming. It was as if a dam waiting to crumble had finally burst, and words began spilling out.  

“You’re right. Maybe it is like loving a painting in a gallery. But, you know, while it might just be a painting to one person, to someone in love, it’s a special painting. Love is when someone who was just one among many becomes the one and only special person.”  

The more she expressed thoughts she had kept to herself for so long, the more her heart raced, and her words quickened.  

“To someone in love, the painting before them seems like the most perfect thing in the world. They think, unlike me, that painting is perfect. They love as much as they can’t love themselves. For instance, if a shy person who struggles to socialize sees someone who’s sociable and has a charming smile….”  

Caught up in her excitement, Natalie suddenly met Mr. Wharton’s gaze. His calm eyes reminded her that she was rambling.  

She quickly wrapped up her thoughts.  

“That’s how it happens.”  

“What happens?”  

“They fall in love.”  

At Natalie’s blunt statement, Mr. Wharton smirked as if mocking her.  

“Love, you say. If you utter that word in front of me one more time….”  

Mr. Wharton took a step closer. Looking into his blue eyes, Natalie instinctively tilted her head back.  

“I’ll kiss you.”  

His words, delivered with a smile, were clearly a warning in context. Yet, Natalie’s gaze unintentionally shifted to his lips.  

For someone who wished to avoid falling in love, Cupid’s arrow would be nothing short of a punishment. For someone who shunned kisses, a kiss would surely be a penalty.  

Thus, Natalie concluded that if Cupid ever aimed his arrow at Mr. Wharton, he would choose to be offered to a monster rather than fall in love.  

Lost in her thoughts, Natalie forgot to correct the misunderstanding. In the meantime, Mr. Wharton led her into the crowd of dancing couples.  

Among the crowd was Mr. Salinger. No matter how many people were present, those in love possessed an uncanny ability to find the one they were looking for.  

Even as she danced with Mr. Wharton, Natalie’s gaze kept drifting toward Mr. Salinger. His smile toward his partner was truly charming.  

While her attention was elsewhere, a low voice reached her ears.  

“You’re distracted.”  

Startled, Natalie quickly turned her head to look at Mr. Wharton. He was watching Mr. Salinger, who had stolen her attention.  

“Are you thinking it would’ve been better to dance with someone else?”  

“No! I was just… thinking that Mr. Salinger is quite the gentleman, with such a charming smile…. He seems like someone who could make anyone fall in love.”  

Flustered, Natalie stammered, fumbling over her words. Focused on making excuses, she failed to notice how her words were irritating Mr. Wharton.  

“Of course! You’re also very impressive, Mr. Wharton. Very handsome, remarkable, and extraordinary.”  

Natalie hastily added, finally glancing at her partner to gauge his mood. Her wandering gaze returned to Mr. Wharton, only to find him staring at her intently.  

“I suppose I share some of the blame. If my partner is so bored that she’s looking at another gentleman, I must try harder to keep her focus on me.”  

Mr. Wharton released Natalie’s hand, which he had been holding tightly. While everyone around them continued dancing, the two of them stood still. Natalie was confused as to why they had suddenly stopped.  

Mr. Wharton’s gaze fell on her lips. Before Natalie could register his intent, he cupped the back of her head.  

It wasn’t until their lips met that Natalie realized it was a kiss. She also realized she had uttered the forbidden word—“love.”  

“Mr. Whar….”  

Her attempt to call his name was cut off by the intrusion of his lips.  

Natalie knew what a kiss was and what emotions might lead to one—but only through words.  

In novels, kisses were described in painstaking detail, even before the lips met. Romantic metaphors adorned each stage, and the meaning of a kiss was as profound as the depth of love.  

But in reality, a kiss left no room for such detailed contemplation. As their lips collided, something soft invaded her mouth, stealing her first kiss.  

Natalie pushed against Mr. Wharton’s chest in shock, but when the tip of his tongue brushed against the inside of her mouth, she froze completely.  

The sensation of someone else’s tongue exploring her mouth was unsettling. She couldn’t believe such an act was common among lovers.  

It felt like someone carelessly barging into a room or lifting a blanket without permission. There was no romance in this invasion of her personal space.  

Intrusion and extortion.  

Those two words summarized Natalie’s first kiss without any romance, bringing tears to her eyes.  

Only then did Natalie begin to guess what Mr. Wharton had meant by the “bold and assertive” contents of the letter.  

Perhaps the letter expressed a desire to dance with Mr. Wharton, or maybe even a wish for a kiss in the middle of the ballroom.  

Even after Mr. Wharton stepped back, Natalie couldn’t close her mouth. Only after exhaling the breath she had been holding did she press her lips together, her eyes growing hot.  

The first kiss, which had barged in like a bandit, left behind not love but a deep sense of injustice.  

“…That letter wasn’t from me.”  

Natalie’s belated explanation came out in a trembling voice.  

The beautiful man who had shattered the fantasy of her first kiss wore an unbelievably calm expression. His indifferent demeanor only made her want to cry more.  

“It wasn’t… me who wrote it….”  

Natalie looked at Mr. Wharton, holding back her tears with each word. The sight of her tear-filled eyes seemed to gradually unsettle him.  

With her vision blurred by tears, Natalie finally managed to speak.  

“I don’t like you, Mr. Wharton!”  

Only after making this non-confession did her tears spill over. To those who couldn’t hear her words, it might have looked like a tearful, heartfelt love confession.  

The recipient of this “confession” seemed flustered as he gently wiped away her tears with his fingertips. But Natalie only cried harder.  

“I said, I don’t like you….”  

“All right, all right, I understand….”  

Mr. Wharton hurriedly pulled out a handkerchief and used it to wipe the tears from her cheeks and eyes.  

But once the dam of tears had burst, there was no stopping it.  

Edgar Wharton looked at the tearful young lady before him with a perplexed expression.  

“Miss.”  

“It’s not ‘Miss,’ it’s Natalie.”  

Even as she sniffled, Natalie insisted on her name, making Edgar Wharton chuckle softly.  

“Natalie, I apologize for the misunderstanding.”  

“……”  

“I didn’t expect there to be two people wearing such a tacky ribbon on their head.”  

“……”  

“Well, it does suit you rather well. In any case, the misunderstanding was my mistake.”  

The word “mistake” struck Natalie’s heart as she tried to stop crying.  

Her first kiss, a mistake.  

A mistake born of a ridiculous misunderstanding.  

Her eyes began to grow hot again.  

“…Was the kiss a mistake too?”  

The hand that had been wiping her tear-streaked face paused.  

Mr. Wharton’s silence made Natalie fear that he would soon say, “Yes, it was.” Her sorrow surged.  

Just before another tear fell, Edgar Wharton spoke.  

“Let’s call the kiss an accident.”  

“An accident…?”  

“Yes, an accident. Think about it. If you were walking and accidentally bumped your lips against a door, you wouldn’t call that a kiss, would you? After all, you wouldn’t have any personal feelings for the door.”  

Natalie stared blankly at Mr. Wharton, who was smiling at her. The dissonance between his cold words and warm smile froze her thoughts.  

“Natalie, you don’t like me, do you? I don’t like you either. So it was just an accidental collision of lips.”  

It was an absurd statement. Natalie burst into tears again.