Chapter 2.4

“What are your intentions?”

The voice of his aide pierced Idris’s ears. He had endured the pressure of his retainers, who demanded he hasten his marriage for the sake of the family’s survival, leaving him feeling almost deaf. Despite the headache spreading to the back of his eyes, Idris’s expression remained gentle.

“Sir Kashian will arrive soon. The Marquis of Electra has already noticed the young lady’s presence. Before they make a move…”

While the head maid Barnes considered Hillienti a blessing, the aide Revron viewed her as a dangerous box whose contents were unknown.

Idris also knew that touching the younger sister of his closest friend, Kashian, was unforgivable. But there was no alternative.

Letters proposing marriage were already flooding in, piling up by the fireplace. 

The greedy Marquis of Electra had even suggested his thirteen-year-old daughter. There were letters from prominent nobles in neighboring countries, and even one from a princess. Among them, the easiest path was to marry a suitable young lady from a respectable family, but for Idris, that was the most difficult path.

Idris had a secret flaw known only to his closest confidants: a pathological aversion to physical contact. He especially avoided touching women, never removing his gloves in daily life. Even the act of kissing a lady’s hand was repulsive to him, so he merely mimicked the gesture.

Despite this, he was called the lover of all women, making their hearts flutter. But there was one woman he could touch with his bare hands—Hillienti.

Hillienti might be able to cure Idris’s chronic issue and even ensure the continuation of the Skavisa Ducal line, which was at risk of ending.

“Are you suggesting I lay my hands on Hillienti?”

The gentle smile on Idris’s face faded as his gaze turned cold, devoid of warmth. Revron felt a chill run down his neck. Having served Idris for half his life, he knew his master’s inscrutable expressions well.

Revron lowered his eyes and skillfully deflected the conversation.

“Please don’t misunderstand. That’s not what I meant.”

“Wasn’t it you who extolled the purity of marriage? And now you call that sacred act impure.”

Idris’s sharp retort made Revron falter. Idris’s eyes gleamed as if mocking him, then softened playfully.

“What do you think is the right course of action?”

The pen twirling between Idris’s long, delicate fingers seemed sharp. Revron knew that even a playful gesture could carry the weight of a dagger and sighed quietly.

“You’ve already made your decision. Do you need my opinion? Don’t take out your temper on me.”

“That’s disappointing.”

Idris placed the pen down, his head dropping lightly onto his shoulder. His smile vanished instantly as he closed his eyes.

His ever-changing expressions resembled a mask. He might seem out of his mind, but he was one of the most intelligent individuals, fulfilling his duties and responsibilities flawlessly despite the tragedy he had endured.

Even though his marriage had fallen apart, he maintained close ties with the Marquis of River through trade agreements.

Moreover, his coldness was evident in how he didn’t reminisce about Lady Amelie, who had met an untimely death.

“I won’t be forgiven.”

Not that he intended to seek forgiveness.

His faint murmur was meant for himself, and Revron waited calmly for his orders.

“Prepare a marriage proposal to send to the House of Rinshers.”

“I’ll ensure everything is ready without issue.”

“Keep an eye on Emile River’s movements.”

Having finally made a decision for the future, Idris issued his commands. Revron bowed respectfully, but his gaze lingered on the man’s cold expression. The arrogant back of the man, who decided her future without consulting her, rested heavily on Revron’s mind.

A being like light breaking through dark clouds and descending to earth. A presence so captivating it could steal one’s soul. He was often praised as the embodiment of the Archangel Michael, but people, mesmerized by his appearance, forgot that angels were inherently cruel by nature.

The moment he stepped out of this room, he would become as warm as sunlight. The girl would look at him with eyes full of love, as she always did.

Revron, who followed his master quietly, carried in his heart the hope that she might be able to melt Idris’s frozen heart.

Beyond the window, the dark clouds covering the horizon carried the scent of rain as they crept closer. Like a beast lowering its body, killing its presence, and moving slowly.

He, who was going to meet the woman who loved him, looked like a hunter on the prowl. And the woman, unaware, smiled like a sunflower.

As always. As it had always been. As it would always be.

* * *

The worry did not manifest into reality. Hillienti woke without dreaming at all, and after dining with Idris, who had returned, she strolled through the embroidered flowerbeds

The air of autumn, ripening with time, had grown noticeably colder. Pulling her shawl tighter over her shoulders, she familiarized herself with the names of the flowers and trees Idris had taught her.

The next day passed in the same way. Spending her time alone until he returned, she wandered around the garden they had walked through together. There, amidst the shadows of flowers reflected on the window, she discovered a grand piano sitting alone in a quiet room.

Although she had been shown around the mansion, she had only visited the main areas. She had never been to this secluded spot in the far west wing and had no idea such a room existed. Looking around, she checked to see if anyone was there. Only the chirping of birds could be heard.

Feeling regretful, she reached out to the window to get a closer look at the piano. But as the window swung inward, she lost her balance, half tumbling through the frame. The pain from hitting her chest on the windowsill was forgotten the moment she saw the gleaming white piano sparkling in the sunlight.

“So beautiful.”

The piano, shining like a white dolphin, seemed to call out to her. Climbing through the large window, she approached it as if entranced, opened the lid, and pressed a key. The clear sound, resonating like a refreshing summer rain, seemed to wash away the heat. Her hands moved on their own.

It was a piece she had practiced every day, once a day, hoping to play it for him if they ever met again. It was the first piano piece she had ever heard—played by him when he was eleven years old.

The first nocturne, ‘Charman’s Nocturne No. 2’.

Before she knew it, she was playing the piece she hadn’t touched since he had handed her the wedding invitation….

“So this is where you were.”

Lost in the music, she hadn’t noticed someone entering. When had he arrived?

“Could you play a little more?”

Idris’s soft voice rippled through her like waves, soaking into her heart. Without answering, she turned back to the piano and placed her hands on the keys again. Repeating the song, she played it for him. The calm tempo of the piece felt like touching white, crashing waves, and her fingertips gradually grew firmer with each note.

Looking up, she noticed the crimson sunlight spilling over her hands pressing the keys. The room was silent, with only the two of them in the parlor. And he was…

“……”

Lying asleep on the couch.

His broad chest rose and fell evenly, his golden eyelashes decorating his serenely closed eyes, and his golden hair glimmered faintly, even in the dim light. He looked like a vision of moonlight, as if he might fade away at any moment.

She gently picked up the blanket lying beside him and draped it over him. Then, as if sharing a secret, she whispered softly.

“Sleep well.”

She returned to the piano and sat down again. Just until he woke up—just a little longer, a little longer….

Her lingering feelings became her downfall, gripping her wrist like a trap. And now, her wrist was on the verge of being grabbed by her furious older brother.