Chapter 16

Raymond looked up at the hesitant Helen and urged her.  

“Hurry.”  

A sharp gaze pricked the back of her neck. Barely ignoring it, Helen grabbed his outstretched hand and stepped down, only to be led straight into a certain shop.  

“This place is…”  

“We didn’t get to have a proper date last time.”  

“No, but still, so suddenly?”  

“Just give me a couple of hours.”  

The place they arrived at, after walking for about twenty minutes from the square, was an underground pub. A man wiping down the bar, seemingly preparing to open, looked up at the sound of the door chime.  

“Ray? What brings you here?”  

“It’s been a while. Am I too early?”  

“It’s almost time to open anyway. Come in.”  

The man gestured toward the chairs in front of him, his curious gaze shifting to Helen, who followed behind Raymond. Raymond introduced her smoothly.  

“Helen, this is Jenin, the owner of this pub. Jenin, this is Miss Godwin.”  

“Ah, I see. I’ve heard about you. You’re the new tutor, right?”  

“Ah… yes. Hello.”  

Jenin, seemingly skilled at dealing with people, didn’t press further and simply smiled, inviting her to take a seat. Once they were seated side by side at the bar, the two men exchanged light pleasantries.  

“The stage looks a bit empty.”  

“There’s no singer today. Instead, a saxophonist is coming.”  

“Saxophone is good too.”  

Helen half-listened to their conversation while letting her gaze wander around. Despite being underground, the pub didn’t have a sleazy or oppressive atmosphere. Rather, it felt cozy, like a place where old lovers or friends might frequent. It was dim overall, but the candles at each table gave it a warm ambiance.  

There were about a dozen round tables and chairs, each spaced out appropriately. A makeshift circular stage that appeared to be a dance floor stood in the center. On the stage were a piano and a long bench.  

“What do you think? Pretty nice, right?”  

As Helen curiously surveyed the surroundings, Raymond’s voice interrupted her thoughts. She nodded toward him.  

“It is. Even though it’s a place I came to so suddenly.”  

“This is a place I come to often. Though I haven’t had time to visit lately.”  

“Isn’t there a more suitable place?”  

Helen tilted her head as she added this. The pub was undoubtedly charming, but it wasn’t a high-class restaurant. Raymond was a scion of a prominent noble family.  

“Of course, I don’t mean to say this place is lacking…”  

“I know what you mean.”  

Raymond smiled faintly and handed her a glass of sherry that had appeared at some point.  

“You’re talking about membership clubs, right? The kind of places where wealth, prestige, and status are filtered before entry is allowed.”  

“I’ve never been to one, so I wouldn’t know.”  

“Do you know what they talk about in those places, Helen?”  

It was a tempting topic. Helen, holding the glass, shook her head.  

“I don’t know. Don’t gentlemen gather to play cards, discuss business, or talk politics?”  

No, Raymond shook his head lightly.  

“They dress it up nicely, but if you peel back the layers, it’s all the same. It’s just talk about women. Which family’s young lady is the prettiest, which establishments have the most scantily clad women, which courtesan charges the highest, and how much dowry a bride’s family paid at someone’s wedding.”  

His sharp profile was illuminated by the flickering red lamp, making him look like an actor on stage.  

“It’s a place where well-dressed gentlemen engage in conversations no different from back-alley thugs. Of course, vulgar jokes are exchanged too. And then they stroke their mustaches and boast about their newly purchased ivory buttons and canes, like male peacocks flaunting their feathers to court a mate.”  

It was a scathing critique. A faint trace of self-deprecation lingered in his wry smile. Helen, quietly listening to him, took a sip of her sherry.  

“So that’s why you come here. To hide your status.”  

“Some people know, though.”  

Shrugging, Raymond raised his hand to order another drink.  

“By the way, what about Henry? Leaving him like that…”  

“It’s fine. Theo is with him.”  

Raymond answered smoothly, blinking.  

“Oh, right. I haven’t introduced him yet. Theo is a distant relative and a fellow cadet from military school.”  

“A fellow cadet?”  

“Yes. Though he left earlier than I did.”  

Before they knew it, Helen’s glass was empty. Jenin, who had approached, refilled it. Helen gave her a small nod of thanks and took another sip.  

“Did I ever tell you how I got out of that place?”  

Helen shook her head instead of responding. Narrowing his eyes mischievously like a troublemaker planning a prank, Raymond spoke in a low voice.  

“I did something crazy.”  

“Crazy?”  

Raymond gestured as if sharing a secret. Helen involuntarily leaned in slightly, and he whispered into her ear.  

“Arson and murder.”  

The words jolted her awake. Her slightly tipsy mind went blank as if bleached clean. Straightening her back, she listened to his chilling confession.  

“I locked the principal’s office door and set it on fire.”  

“…What did you just say?”  

“I’m joking. No one died.”  

It was impossible to tell what part of it was a joke. Was it all a joke, from the arson to the murder? Or was it just that no one ‘happened’ to die?  

‘It’s probably a joke.’  

Helen quickly concluded. No one could say such things without batting an eye. Unless her perception of him was wrong. Or maybe she was slightly drunk. It was the first time in a while she’d had alcohol after taking care of patients. Sip after sip, it went down like water.  

As she stared at her third glass, which had been refilled before she knew it, Raymond suddenly asked, his eyes sparkling.  

“Aren’t you scared?”  

“You said it was a joke.”  

“What if it wasn’t?”  

“Even so, I can’t judge recklessly. I don’t know the circumstances.”  

“…Helen, you always defy expectations. It’s difficult.”  

His voice, as he added this, dropped slightly. 

Difficult? What was? 

Tilting her head, her cheeks slightly flushed from the alcohol, Helen asked.  

“What’s difficult?”  

“Never mind. More importantly, is there anything you’re afraid of?”  

“You don’t think I’d be afraid of anything?”  

“Not bugs or ghosts.”  

“Those don’t scare me.”  

Living in the countryside, spiders were as common as neighbors. She’d never seen a ghost, so she didn’t believe in them.  

“You’re brave. Then what are you afraid of?”  

“Myself.”  

“Pardon?”  

“I’m most afraid of myself.”  

“Helen…”  

Raymond stared at her with a serious expression and asked.  

“You’re drunk, aren’t you?”  

A small laugh escaped at the same time. His blue eyes, which had seemed distant, softened slightly.  

“Probably.”  

Helen admitted readily and set her glass down. By now, the pub had begun to fill with customers, and the space was half-occupied. The lively energy of the room grew as a saxophonist began preparing his instrument. Helen, her curiosity piqued, murmured.  

“It looks like he’s about to start playing.”  

“He’s quite good. Right, Jenin?”  

“Of course, he is.”  

Jenin, who had approached to refill Helen’s glass, chimed in. While Helen was distracted by the stage, Raymond shook his head to stop Jenin.  

As the saxophonist began to play a blues tune, young men and women started stepping onto the dance floor one by one.  

It felt like indulging in a small rebellion. A mix of guilt and excitement surrounded Helen. Watching the scene as if she were an observer, Raymond made a suggestion.  

“Want me to tell you my secret for avoiding a hangover the next day?”  

“What is it?”  

“Do something you wouldn’t normally do.”  

He stood up at some point and extended his hand. Tempting her, he smiled.  

“No one here knows us. Except Jenin.”  

“But…”  

“It’ll be fun. I promise you won’t regret it.”  

Helen slowly lifted her gaze.  

His face wore a bright smile. His blue eyes sparkled like finely cut topaz. His flawless golden hair gleamed like molten gold. If someone were to piece together fragments of stars from the deep night sky, they might create Raymond Somerset.  

In the end, she took his hand.  

“If I step on your feet, don’t blame me. It’s been a while since I danced.”  

“Just think of my feet as cushions.”  

Raymond chuckled softly and led her to the dance floor. One hand rested lightly on her slender waist, while the other held her small hand.  

The soft melody of the saxophone filled the space, and a pleasant fragrance wafted from his proximity. Moving in step with his lead, Helen impulsively spoke.  

“Yesterday…”  

She lowered her gaze, but she could feel his steady gaze from above. The dance required them to be nearly pressed together.  

“Why did you do that?”  

Her voice was barely a whisper.  

At that moment, the large hand on her waist tightened slightly. Helen inhaled sharply as he leaned closer and whispered.  

“Who knows? Why do you think I did it?”  

“…?”  

“You’re smart. Take a guess. You have two weeks.”  

Two weeks… It seemed like something significant was going to happen. Or at least, it felt that way. But the alcohol clouded Helen’s thoughts. She felt the firm chest supporting her swaying body.  

Amid her muddled thoughts, she abruptly changed the subject.  

“…By the way, why do you keep calling me by my name?”  

“Don’t you like it?”  

Raymond tilted his head, asking.  

“Then pick one.”  

“Miss Godwin.”  

“Miss Helen.”  

“Lady.”  

They all felt awkward, as if they didn’t suit her. She flinched at the last option.  

“Teacher.”  

The moment she heard it, Helen’s ears turned red in embarrassment. For some reason, it sounded indecent. It made her feel like an immoral teacher, dancing so closely with her student in a place like this.  

“Which one do you like?”  

“Just call me the way you always do.”  

Smiling with closed eyes, Raymond replied.  

“No take-backs.”