Chapter 17 – Rosalie de Malève Disappearance Case 

“Ah… it hurts.”

The frayed rope fell to the floor, and Rosalie finally rubbed her freed wrists, wincing. The knots had left wounds where they dug into her skin. The skin scraped by the rough rope was now bright red.

As she rotated her wrists to check their condition, Hystein’s fingertips suddenly brushed the inside of her wrist.

Rosalie flinched and looked at him. His handsome brows were furrowed in concern.

“That b*stard. Should’ve killed him.”

Was he worried about her? Her heart pounded. Rosalie felt a strange happiness as she watched Hystein.

A straight forehead, a high nose bridge. Firm, well-shaped lips and a perfect jawline.

Had she ever seen such a beautiful being in her life? She’d thought so when they first met, but Hystein seemed born to enchant people.

But the scar on that fine face was Gérard’s doing. It was hard to look away from the crescent-shaped scar beneath his eye.

“What are you staring at?”

Lost in thought, Rosalie found herself facing Hystein. He tilted his head slightly, frowning, and she felt breathless.

She hesitated for a moment before moving her lips.

“…Thank you for saving me.”

“You already thanked me.”

“Still… If you hadn’t come, I’d probably be…”

“Don’t say pointless things.”

“Okay.”

Too afraid to even imagine it, she closed and opened her eyes, steadying her breath. In the next moment, Hystein’s face was suddenly very close.

He bent down, staring at her, then unexpectedly covered her forehead and eyes. His deep, pleasant voice and the scent of rain enveloped her.

“I thought it was just my imagination.”

“…”

“Your fever’s bad. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I-I didn’t know.”

“Go lie down. You’ll collapse again.”

“When did I collapse…”

She trailed off and bit her lower lip. The night Gérard had caught up to them, she’d fainted after seeing the cold blade strike Hystein’s face.

Was Hystein talking about that night? Rosalie wanted to read the expression of her former lover.

But Hystein didn’t remove the hand covering her eyes.

“This, this…”

“I’ll contact your family myself. So you…”

Once again, she was lifted up. Hystein covered her eyes and took her somewhere.

Soon, her hips touched something soft. She was a little sorry to dirty such a cozy bed with her rain-soaked body.

Hystein left her there. As Rosalie sat awkwardly on the bed and looked back, the bedding caught her eye—so dazzlingly luxurious, even without lace.

The pure white blanket, darkened here and there by dripping rainwater, was embroidered with gold thread at every corner.

Soft and warm. Rosalie gently stroked the blanket, then looked toward the door where Hystein had disappeared.

“Hys…”

When would he return? Surely he wouldn’t just leave her here.

Questions chased one another. Growing anxious, Rosalie grabbed her damp skirt and pressed the back of her hand to her forehead. It was shockingly hot.

Realizing her body wasn’t normal, she began to shiver violently. Crossing her arms, she rubbed them and turned her gaze to the window.

Unceasing rain lashed the glass. Rosalie stared blankly outside.

Click—the door opened, and Hystein reappeared. He had a white towel over one arm and carried a steaming ceramic bowl.

“You said you’d contact my family?”

“Yes.”

He nodded lightly and approached the bed. Hystein set the bowl on the table and commanded,

“Undress.”

Though it sounded ambiguous, Rosalie understood he meant for her to wash.

“What? Oh, it’s fine. I can do it myself.”

She awkwardly stood and shook her head. Hystein frowned.

“If you won’t, I’ll do it. You’ve been staggering since earlier.”

“Why do you keep saying…”

His sharp tone bothered her. She remembered he’d spoken that way at Countess Aloua’s ball too.

He was no longer the gentle painter who’d been kind only to her. Rosalie had to accept that now.

But after so long apart, undressing in front of her former lover was deeply uncomfortable. She hesitated, clutching her dress.

At first, Hystein waited silently, but now he seemed impatient. He rolled up his shirt sleeves and stepped closer.

“Really, I can do it…”

Rosalie was startled, watching Hystein’s expression. His furrowed brow didn’t relax.

In the end, she slowly unbuttoned her dress, fumbling with nervous hands.

At least she was wearing a slip. Muttering to herself, she pulled off one sleeve.

Hystein’s gaze followed her every movement. His emerald eyes seemed darker than usual.

She felt embarrassed under his steady gaze. She took off both sleeves and untied her waist, letting the ill-fitting dress slide down her thighs.

Rosalie quickly glanced at Hystein.

“Sit on the bed.”

He turned his back, as if uninterested in her body. He soaked the towel in the bowl, folded it, and wrung out the water, focusing solely on that.

Then Hystein looked at her again. Wearing only a thin slip, Rosalie lowered her eyes to avoid his gaze.

She wanted to pull the cloth down to cover more of her thighs. She wished she could hide.

“This is enough. I’m fine, really…”

If only he’d hand her the towel.

Hystein, apparently tired of arguing, didn’t reply. He approached the bed, bent down, and lifted her chin, starting to wipe her face.

The towel must have been soaked in warm water, but every stroke left a cool trail. When he wiped her eyes, Rosalie opened them to meet his gaze directly.

She pouted her lips.

“You haven’t washed.”

“I will later.”

“Why are you… taking care of me this much?”

“Your mouth.”

His eyes, now even darker, dropped to her lips. Rosalie closed her mouth as he asked.

The soft cloth wiped her lips and chin, then slowly moved down her neck. Hystein wetted it again and wiped both her arms, then finally sat down on the floor by the bed.

For a moment, the image of the humble painter from years ago overlapped with the man before her, his hand holding the towel resting on his knee.

“Th-that’s enough.”

“…Why? I’m not doing anything strange.”

Rosalie pressed her knees together and grabbed Hystein’s wrist. His rolled-up shirt sleeves revealed muscular arms.

He looked up at her, annoyed, and pushed her hand away.

“I’m not even tempted. Don’t misunderstand.”

“…That’s not it.”

“Then what?”

Hystein sighed deeply and quickly wiped her thighs. The towel didn’t touch the space between her legs, held tight together.

Rosalie didn’t know where to look, so she glanced past Hystein’s shoulder.

They were alone in a dimly lit bedroom, illuminated only by a soft orange lamp. Rosalie realized this, but Hystein was now focused only on wiping her calves.

“By the way, what did you mean by that earlier?”

Rosalie brushed her flushed cheek and asked, wanting to keep the conversation going.

Hystein’s hands, larger than most men’s, seemed even bigger now. Her ankle looked fragile in his grip.

It hadn’t been like this before. Hystein used to love tickling her pale ankle hidden behind the studio’s curtains.

Even after asking, Rosalie got no reply for a long time, so she nudged his thigh with her foot. Tap. Her toes touched and left his thigh.

“I said hold still.”

Hystein glared at her, threateningly. Rosalie was a bit startled but could feel her face heating up. At some point, he’d grown tense.