Rochelle couldn’t react hastily to the man’s unbelievable composure. No matter how positively she tried to view the situation, she felt she would never truly understand what was going on in his mind.

After a long, unbroken silence, when Yevgeny finally spoke again, not even a flicker of emotion crossed his face.

Instead of cornering her like a rat in a trap and interrogating her, he gently placed a napkin in her trembling right hand that was fluttering in the air.

“Eat. You need a full stomach if you’re going to take bitter medicine.”

Did he know that his inexplicable calm made him all the more chilling and frightening?

“…Yes.”

Rochelle hunched her shoulders awkwardly.

‘Do you believe my clumsy lie?’

She wanted to ask him.

Rochelle cautiously studied the man who showed not a single hint of wavering emotion. She had imagined he would explode in rage and choke her at any moment, but Yevgeny simply chose silence.

He must be suspicious, surely.

She felt her breath being squeezed tighter and tighter. In a rush, Rochelle grabbed the sandwich and took a huge bite. The salty bacon juice filled her mouth. She chewed frantically, as if crushing the pieces inside her mouth. The repetitive motion continued without conscious thought.

Yevgeny, who hadn’t reacted hastily, quietly pushed the coffee cup closer to her.

Swallowing the food in her mouth, Rochelle reached out and picked up the cup again. The lukewarm liquid mixed with large and small chunks, all sliding down her throat in a jumble.

As she bowed her head and murmured thanks, Yevgeny, still resting his chin on his hand at the table, nodded. His lips curved slightly as he watched the small movement of her throat as she swallowed.

“When did your nails get like that?”

“…Pardon?”

Nails? Rochelle, too distracted to notice herself, finally stretched out her hand to check. Her thin fingers revealed half-broken nails, one deeply cracked down the middle, another swollen with dark blood pooled underneath… No wonder she’d felt discomfort. Everything was a mess.

Her arms, lost in midair, hesitated before she carefully hid them beneath the table. Rochelle kept rubbing her hands nervously on her thighs, trying to ignore the pain that followed.

Soon, Yevgeny half-rose from his chair, grabbed both her hands, and fixed them on the table.

“Uh, wait a moment!”

The touch of his skin made her flinch. Rochelle twisted fiercely and stood up abruptly, trying to pull her hands away, but he wouldn’t budge.

Why? Confused, she looked up into his eyes.

“Y-Yevgeny, I’m really all right…”

“……”

Was there really any concern in those cold eyes?

A complicated emotion flowed between the two. Before long, the sound of a glass clinking on the carpet rang in her ears. Cold water splashed onto her ankle.

Yevgeny glanced down to see his dress pants rapidly soaking through. The wetness clinging to his bare skin made him quickly let go of Rochelle’s hands and take a few steps back.

“…That was my mistake.”

Moving slowly, Yevgeny bent down and opened the shelf beneath the table. There was a box of first-aid supplies. He reached in and took out a red bottle and a small bandage.

Catching on quickly to his intentions, Rochelle hid her hands behind her back and quietly protested.

“Just leave it. You don’t have to worry about me like this.”

“If you leave the wounds untreated, they could get infected, or your nails might grow back deformed.”

Yevgeny took her right hand and pressed her shoulder down with his other hand.

Pressed from above, Rochelle sank into the chair, curling up as she looked up at him.

The hair he had brushed back so neatly was now messily disheveled. Yet Yevgeny still looked tidy as he calmly knelt in front of her.

Rochelle quietly studied his face. His smooth nose stood out. Though his features were masculine and angular, there was a strange beauty to him she couldn’t understand.

Meanwhile, he twisted open the red bottle and soaked a small cotton ball with the liquid. When he touched the tip of her nail, Rochelle flinched and furrowed her brow at the sting.

“Ah!”

The faint scent of alcohol from the disinfectant stung her nose. Yevgeny slathered ointment on all ten of her fingers, then tore a long strip of bandage and wrapped it around her hand.

‘Why is this man doing this? Even though he surely suspects I’m Rochelle Kotov.’

The room was so eerily quiet that she kept biting her lips. Unconsciously, Rochelle burst into a wry laugh above his head. His puzzled eyes slowly traveled up to her face, then back down.

When he spoke again, his voice was slightly hoarse.

“Where did you throw away everything from my bag?”

“Ah.”

She couldn’t see his face well as it was lowered, but his voice was as light as a feather. It sounded more like warmth for a pitiful soul than anger at an orphan who’d thrown out all his belongings.

Someday, that kindness would surely turn into the blade of rage. Rochelle shivered at the flashes of the future that raced through her mind.

“…I dropped them down the drain.”

“……”

“I was in such a hurry… I’m truly sorry. If there’s any way I can repay—”

“No. It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

He replied briefly, just raising his eyebrows.

He finished tying the bandage on her last finger. Yevgeny slowly placed her hand on the table.

Rochelle let out a sigh without realizing it and leaned her back against the chair. The part of her back that touched the surface was damp. Without noticing, she had been sweating all over.

As soon as she realized her body wasn’t normal, red spots started appearing all over her skin. Her body was still burning with fever. She couldn’t tell if it was from a cold or from nerves.

Through her gradually blurring vision, she saw Yevgeny’s eyes. Like the calm sea at night, his gaze was filled with nothing but her. The corners of his lips lifted ever so slightly. He was like a crafted doll, skilled at controlling and showing only as much emotion as he wished.

Rochelle’s mind was a tangled mess, but her lips curled up to match his.

Indeed, the man’s elegant smile was contagious.

***

When she opened her eyes in a daze, Rochelle found herself on the bed.

She shivered in a strange sense of familiarity. Was everything she remembered just now nothing but a nightmare caused by anxiety?

…Yes, maybe it was. Her mind sometimes wielded such supernatural power, plunging her into despair.

As she relaxed, a rustling sound came from very close by. Startled, Rochelle sat up abruptly without a sound. In front of the bathroom, Yevgeny was looking into the mirror, gently drying his wet hair with a towel.

“……”

Every time he moved his arm, the robe parted precariously. It wasn’t loosely tied for show, but the belt, secured around his thick torso, was coming undone little by little.

Naturally, Rochelle’s gaze was drawn in.

Across the muscles of his chest were countless scars that would never fade.

What kind of life had he lived in the past? How much pain had he endured, stabbed dozens of times, his stomach slashed open and ruined?

As he tossed the heavy, soaked towel into the basket, Yevgeny turned to her. His yellow pupils watched her steadily.

“You’re awake.”

“Yes.”

“I should have given you the medicine first. If I’d known you would collapse so suddenly, I would have.”

As he spoke, he turned slightly. His firm calves tensed. His long, white legs strode toward the table.

Rochelle’s gaze was drawn to his movements as if hypnotized. Grabbing a packet of medicine and a cup from the table, Yevgeny gave her a faint smile, not avoiding her eyes.

“It’s fever medicine. Take two tablets at a time.”

“Thank you.”

“No need.”

As if under a spell, she reached out and accepted the pills and cup from him. The round tablets went down her throat first, and soon the cup was empty.

At the same time, the sound of the carpet and chair scraping against the floor echoed beside her. Yevgeny was dressed only in his robe. The hem, slightly rolled up, revealed his firm thighs.