Chapter 12: The Masquerade Ball(5)

He tilted his head, trying to deepen the kiss, and a wet moan slipped out between our intertwined lips. As the lights of the ballroom gradually brightened, the once gentle and soothing movements became more urgent.

His large hand tangled in my hair, gripping firmly to ensure I couldn’t escape, while I was left to accept his growing desperation. His tongue, slick with saliva, delved deeply into my throat.

“Hnn…!”

The unfamiliar sensation made my eyes well up with tears. The motion was relentless, thrusting in and out, and with each pass, my mind grew blanker, overwhelmed by the intensity. It became difficult to distinguish whether the secret place he was ravaging was the inside of my mouth or somewhere far more intimate.

“Ha… haa…”

Finally, the lights of the ballroom fully illuminated us. It was a moment of sheer tension, so intense it left me breathless.

My gaze, blurred with tears, scanned his face. I found myself staring at his lips, flushed a deep red from our shared heat. Just then, he hastily pulled his mask back down and led me out of the ballroom by the wrist.

Under the night sky, where a crescent moon hung like a silver claw, I studied his stern profile. Just as a sliver of moonlight illuminated his face, the soft expression beneath the mask almost revealed itself.

“Show me your face. At least let me thank you…”

Before I could finish my sentence, he pulled me along.

“Where are we going?”

He said nothing, hastening his steps through the pitch-black darkness. Amidst the rows of carriages, he managed to find the Sossilion family’s carriage.

“…Wait a moment!”

He pushed me inside the carriage without a word. I wanted to talk a little longer, but if we parted like this, when would I ever see him again?

I quickly gathered my dress and tried to step out of the carriage, but by then, he had already disappeared without a trace. All that remained was the warmth of his embrace, his low voice resonating in my ears, and the lingering sensation of our lips touching.

I recalled the feel of his large hand. It was different from Jaylon’s rough fingers, accustomed to wielding a sword. This touch was unfamiliar, yet strangely gentle and familiar.

“It couldn’t be…”

A name suddenly flashed in my mind, causing a tightening at my temples. It was an absurd thought. I must have lost my senses from wandering around the crowded party.

“He wouldn’t be that person,” I muttered to myself.

Inside the slowly moving carriage, I stripped off the cumbersome dress and changed back into my nun’s habit. The Archelio Monastery was close enough to the imperial palace that it didn’t take long to arrive.

“Please send my regards to Father,” I said to the coachman, giving a polite farewell before turning away. It was time to discard the mask of the duke’s daughter and don the pure mask of a cleric once again.

“Licia, welcome back.”

The party seemed to have already ended; the worshippers had gone, leaving behind the usual quiet stillness.

“I’m sorry. Did I return too late?”

“We saved a slice of cake for you, so you wouldn’t feel left out. Go to your room and eat it.”

Unlike the luxurious cakes made by top-tier pastry chefs at the imperial masquerade, this was a simple, rough-looking cream cake.

“Thank you for thinking of me… But is Father Edwin resting already?”

The nuns exchanged awkward smiles.

“Well, actually, he’s been locked in his room all afternoon, even during the party. It happens sometimes, so try not to worry too much about it.”

The man who had been so eager in preparing for the party the day before didn’t come out of his room at all during the event? Could it be that he’s angry because I ignored his advice and went to the masquerade?

Holding the plate of cake the nuns had given me, I headed towards Father Edwin’s room. I knocked on the door with the back of my hand and called his name.

“Father Edwin, it’s Sister Alicia. I brought you some cake; would you like some?”

There was no response from beyond the wooden door. Was he really that angry? Or perhaps he was already fast asleep and couldn’t hear my voice.

“…I’m sorry for responding so curtly when you gave me your advice.”

I mustered up the courage to speak, hoping he might be listening. My heart was racing like that of a runner’s.

“I’ll head back to my room now.”

Even a curt response would have sufficed—I just wanted to hear his voice. If only he’d say, “Understood,” as he usually did, that would have been enough.

“To think I’d feel so bitter just because I didn’t get a single response…”

Back in my room, I sat on the edge of my bed. I placed the plate of cake the nuns had saved for me on my lap.

“It’s good.”

A plain, rustic whipped cream cake.

“It’s really good.”

I thought I had gotten used to it, but today, the silence lingering in the room felt particularly unbearable.

* * *

I baked scones using a recipe I had learned from the nuns at the Ophelia Monastery.

I hoped that sharing some tasty scones might help soften Father Edwin’s sour mood, so I spent the entire day carrying around a basket of scones, looking for him.

“Father.”

I called out to him as he hurried through the monastery hallway.

“Yes, Sister Alicia. What is it?”

It was only Father Daniel, walking beside him, who approached me.

“Wow, those scones look delicious.”

Father Edwin walked away coldly without even looking back. Letting out a short sigh, I offered the basket of scones to Father Daniel.

“Would you like one? I baked them myself.”

“Can I have two?”

“…Of course. Please share them with Father Edwin.”

“Father Edwin doesn’t like sweet things, so I doubt he’ll eat them.”

“I see, he doesn’t like sweet things. I ended up getting up at dawn and making these for nothing.”

Thinking about it now, I realized I didn’t really know what he liked or disliked.

I was always the one talking, and he mostly just listened.

“Um, Father Daniel, do you know what Father Edwin likes?”

I asked Father Daniel, who was munching on a mouthful of scone and rolling his eyes thoughtfully.

“Well… I don’t think he has much of an appetite, and it’s not like he has any particular material desires either. I think he probably just has a lot of dislikes and not many likes.”

In the end, I received a rather deflating answer. Alright, I guess I’ll just give up on delivering the scones. He doesn’t like sweet things, after all.

“…I worked so hard to bake them.”

I sat down on a bench in the monastery and stared at the scones in the basket. Before long, a perfectly smooth, pale hand reached over the basket of scones.

“If there are any left, may I have one?”

“…Lucio.”

“I actually really love scones. Would that be alright?”

His smile was as refreshing as the morning sunlight, lifting my spirits.

“Of course. Please, help yourself.”

Lucio, who was sitting beside me, picked up a scone. With a gentle squeeze of his fingers, he broke the scone in half and then took a small bite from one of the halves.

“This is really delicious. Did you bake these yourself, Alicia?”

“Yes, I woke up early in the morning to make them. If you like them, you can have them all.”

“You’re very diligent. You must have put a lot of effort into making these, so is it really alright for me to eat them all?”

“…Actually, I made them for Father Edwin, but he doesn’t like sweets.”

I spoke with a bitter smile, and Lucio hugged the basket of scones as if it were a stuffed bear, then looked at me with eyes that shimmered like those of a teenage boy.

“…If it were a gift from you, Alicia, I’d gladly eat it, even if it were something I disliked the most.”

Hearing Lucio’s sincere voice, I couldn’t help but smile.

“These scones without an owner seem too pitiful. Can’t we just think that you made them for me from the start?”

Maybe it would be better to think of it that way, just as Lucio said, rather than leaving them as scones without an intended recipient.

“…Should we?”

“Who said you could?”

In an instant, the basket of scones that had been nestled in Lucio’s arms was lifted into the air.

When I looked up, there was Father Edwin, standing with the basket of scones under the glaring sunlight, looking quite displeased.

“Father Edwin?”

“You said you made these for me, so why are you giving them to someone else?”

“…Because I heard you didn’t like sweet things.”

“And who told you that? That I don’t like sweet things? Scones are actually my… favorite food.”

Despite his words, the way he looked at the basket of scones seemed rather dubious.

“It would be better for someone who can genuinely enjoy them to have them, instead of someone who has to force themselves to eat,” Lucio said with a playful smile, breaking the silence.

Then Father Edwin sat down next to me.

“And who said I was forcing myself?”

Like a predator eyeing its prey, he shot a sharp glance and took a bite of a scone.

I could hear the sound of the raisin scone being fiercely chewed in his mouth. Eating it like that would surely make it hard to swallow.

“…Do you like it?”

Seeing the strained expression on his face, I was suddenly reminded. Yes, he used to make that same expression when I forced him to eat chiffon cake. It was clear now—he really doesn’t like sweet things. Realizing this, watching him eat the scone seemed terribly difficult to bear.

“It’s absolutely delicious.”

It was clearly a transparent lie, yet hearing him say it was delicious made my heart melt warmly.

“And… it’s the best scone I’ve ever had.”

For just a fleeting moment, our eyes met, and the corners of his eyes curved slightly. It was only for a moment. He then returned to his usual stoic expression and continued eating the scone in silence.

It didn’t take long for me to become aware of my own heart pounding loudly.