Chapter 9: When You Come To Love The Fragile Thing In Your Embrace (Part 7)

No one at the ducal residence could speak to Bieren on his return; the maid who had followed him came with a child in her arms, but he did not even glance at the crying child. He ascended the stairs of the mansion with Lizbeth in his arms. No one could fathom her condition. Bieren would still have brought her back even if she were a corpse.

“Her pulse is definitely beating. She’ll wake up.”

The duke’s physician stuttered in front of Bieren’s stern demeanor. Even if she didn’t wake up, he had to tell Bieren that she might. That was the way to save his life. Lizbeth, returning to the duke’s chambers, looked as pale as a wilted rose. She had lost her vigor because he had plucked and trampled on what should have been a vibrant flower in the garden. He should not have done that. 

“Lizbeth.”

The name that slipped out of his mouth felt bitter. Whenever Bieren called her name, he would part her lips, arousing her and spreading her legs. He delighted when her embarrassed face turned red, and her cunt tightened at the moment of her discomfort.

Bieren covered his face with his hand, recalling his past foolish actions. There was no way to seek forgiveness from her who had closed her eyes. It was truly too late now. There had been plenty of moments he could have rectified. Yet, he had squandered those moments, being arrogant.

“I have requested a wet nurse for the child, Your Grace.”

Bieren listened to the butler’s words. He remembered how he had teased her about how pretty she would be with her milk flowing, and he didn’t know how he could have said such a stupid thing when there was no guarantee she would survive to bear a child.

Bieren wanted to release Lizbeth from her suffering. He wanted to die in her place. She had never intended to harm an arrogant and domineering man like him. Her only desire was to run away, cradling a life smaller than her own, and live well. That gentle desire pierced Bieren’s heart sharply. 

* * *

 “Are you not going out again today?”

The duke’s butler was worried about Bieren. His master, who had ordered him to bring any business that needed to be attended to his bedroom, was always sitting in the chair beside his bed as if he had been nailed to it, and he looked as precarious as a man on the verge of madness.

Bieren found himself locked in that room, living with the same view outside the window every day. Occasionally, when there was a drizzle or the sound of falling leaves, he would mistake it for Lizbeth’s presence and look up.

He had made her live such a life. A life where she waited only for his return.

“These are the items Your Ladyship had.”

The servant brought and organized Lizbeth’s belongings from the almshouse. There were only trivial things inside, like a half-torn dishcloth and a towel. Rose-scented soap. The only noticeable luxury item was a bar of soap, which he had given to Lizbeth as a gift a long time ago. Bieren still cherished her delighted face when she received it. He sniffed the soap.

“It doesn’t have any scent.”

It didn’t have any scent. There was no scent, not even a trace. Lizbeth had merely held onto what Bieren had given her until all the fragrance had gone. He couldn’t even begin to fathom the weight of her affection.

What had I doubted? What was I blind to? Even when I was bathed in the honest affection of Lizbeth’s gaze, what had made me mistrust her and push her away?

Bieren could smell the scent of affection on the now unscented soap.

‘I… have only you, Master. It’s true….’

There really was only him in Lizbeth’s life. Even when she received flowers from the gardener, it was to make her own soap with the petals. He, who had dismissed all the words pouring out of Lizbeth’s mouth as lies, was finally facing the consequences. His sin of not believing the words of his beloved was so great that it led him to a time of loss, losing her. He had constantly doubted Lizbeth’s sincere affection and had tested her all along. When he saw her with the gardener, he lashed out at her, as if he had expected it. Bieren had continually remembered his parents and projected his own distrust onto Lizbeth. It was he himself who had caused her to lose the clear gaze that loved him more than anyone else. 

“Lizbeth?”

Bieren noticed her hand twitching. Eventually, when she opened her eyes, he restrained himself from making any loud noises several times. However, he couldn’t resist squeezing her hand and rubbing her cheek. As if forgetting even the language, he gently stroked Lizbeth’s bewildered face and asked for the physician. 

“Your Grace, Her Ladyship…”

The summoned physician’s lips trembled without being able to tell the truth. Lizbeth didn’t wake up. The duke, who had been secluding himself, had finally lost his mind and had hallucinated and called for the physician. Only when the physician reluctantly revealed the truth did Bieren finally look at Lizbeth again. She had her eyes closed as before. She had them firmly shut as if she would never look at him with those eyes again.

“Please leave now.”

Bieren spoke to the physician with a dry voice. He sounded like a desert wanderer who hadn’t had a sip of water. Even after the physician left, Bieren found Lizbeth standing by the window, waiting for him. She looked back at him and smiled. Bieren realized that he had never seen her smile like that since he’d locked her up.  

‘Master.’

Bieren knew that the bright voice calling him was an auditory hallucination, but he wanted to be deceived. Despite his efforts to avoid falling into hallucinations, he punched his own cheek and whipped his legs with a lash, however, Lizbeth’s hallucination did not disappear. The butler, witnessing the self-inflicted wounds covering his master’s body, felt dismayed.

“I earnestly request that you take a bath and calm your mind. If Her Ladyship wakes up and sees you like this, she’ll be shocked.”

Upon hearing that Lizbeth might be surprised when she woke up and saw his state, Bieren rose to his feet. In the bath where he entered, he was greeted by Lizbeth’s rose scent. The fragrance carried memories of their time together in the bathroom, intertwining together. As he approached her, calling out to him, he faced the arrogant times of the past. He could not stand the sight of that fragment of memory and grabbed a knife. 

“Your Grace!”

The butler, who had come to the bathroom to attend to the bath, shouted so loudly that the mansion rang. The bathtub was completely dyed red with blood. The tub was stained red with blood, and in it lay Bieren, his eyes closed like a corpse. The physician, who had come to examine Lizbeth, was summoned again to treat Bieren’s wrist. The physician trembled as he applied pressure to the lacerated wounds.

“Your Grace, you mustn’t do this, even for the sake of the child. How devastated would Her Ladyship be if she woke up to this?” 

The housekeeper, seeing the scene, finally spoke her mind and offered advice. There was no reason she couldn’t serve him, even if he was a bedridden master. When the previous duke passed away from illness and the previous duchess fled with the stable man, there was no hesitation in accepting Bieren as the new master of the estate. The housekeeper, who had remained silent through it all, opened up out of concern for Lizbeth. Everyone in the estate knew that the delicate maid had fallen in love with the master and if she did indeed wake up and see him broken, she would be saddened.

“Oh, my!”

The physician was horrified to see Bieren pull the bandages tighter after hearing the housekeeper’s advice. With his wrists slashed like that, it was hard to see how he had any energy left to help with the clotting. Even though he applied pressure to stop the bleeding until his hand turned pale, Bieren didn’t flinch. He chastised himself for wanting to die like a madman, breaking the hallucination, and looked at Lizbeth. Bieren toyed with Lizbeth’s fingers before opening his mouth. 

 “Summon the jeweler.”