3. Love Letter (9)
I clasped Vincent's hand, closing my eyes and rubbing it against my cheek. The coolness brushing against my flushed cheek soothed the feverish heat. The warmth of his body against mine settled my anxious mind.
Vincent let out a low sigh.
"I feel like I lose to you every time."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
I let out a soft laugh. Nothing about the situation had changed. Kidnappers were still prowling outside, and the unlocked chapel door could be pushed open at any moment. Just because Vincent had appeared didn't mean I could guarantee the situation would improve. Yet, strangely, my heart was at ease.
The pain I hadn't felt until a moment ago came rushing in alongside my relief. The throbbing ache from my swollen, taut skin made me furrow my brow slightly. When I opened my eyes, Vincent looked as though he were in more pain than I was.
"Do I look that terrible?"
I asked playfully for no reason.
"Yes."
"At times like this, you're supposed to say, 'You look fine no matter what.'"
As I grumbled softly, he rubbed his thumb under my eye.
"No matter what you look like, you're pretty in my eyes."
My mouth snapped shut as he immediately did exactly what I had told him to. My cheeks seemed to flush hot again. Vincent looked at me as if wondering why I was the one getting embarrassed when he was the one who said it. Still, cheesiness is cheesiness no matter what.
The hand that had cradled my cheek moved to smooth my disheveled hair. His touch was clumsy and unskilled. As his fingers ran through my hair from my scalp downward, strands of tangled hair caught on his knuckles. I probably looked absolutely wretched right now. Filthy hair, clothes caked with dirt that had long lost their original color, barely covering my undergarments, and ill-fitting shoes on top of it all. Yet, Vincent didn't let out a single laugh.
I relaxed and surrendered myself to his touch. Unlike the man who had lunged at me with murderous intent, his hand was devastatingly gentle.
The hand that had been playing with my hair slid down to rub the nape of my neck. He lingered on one particular spot, tracing it over and over; it must have been a bruise left from being strangled by the man. His face contorted even further. He pressed his forehead against my shoulder and took ragged breaths.
He was still trembling. Was it because I was hurt? But this wasn't a new reaction.
Unaccustomed to noble etiquette, I had many clumsy moments during my lessons. I'd pricked my fingers with needles while embroidering, fallen off horses while riding, and even broken my nose falling sideways while learning to dance. Living a sheltered life didn't mean I never got a single scrape. Hell, I sometimes tripped and fell flat on my face just walking down the street.
Did he look at me with this same heartache every single time? Surely not every time? The mere thought of it made me burst into laughter.
"If I ever get seriously hurt later, you're going to cry a lot, aren't you?"
"I will. So never, ever get hurt."
I had said it lightly, but his response was dead serious. Imagining it made me laugh again.
"Aren't you being a little too honest? What happened to your noble dignity?"
"I gave up on that in front of you a long time ago."
"Is that so."
"So don't hide things either. If you're struggling, complain about it. If you're tired, get annoyed. If something is bothering you, confide in me. When you're happy, show me your joy. Even the most trivial things are fine—show me everything."
They were incredibly affectionate words, but the thought lingering in the back of my mind suddenly sprouted again. I recalled the fight we had over the love letter.
"I'm a caught fish, aren't I?"
At my words, Vincent slowly raised his head. He looked utterly baffled.
"Where did you learn a phrase like that?"
"At the salon I attended last time."
My very first salon had left me with nothing but unpleasant memories, but I had still managed to hear some rather interesting stories. At first, when they kept talking about caught fish and missed fish, I wondered if they were keeping pet fish somewhere, but that wasn't it at all. It was a secret language of sorts among the noble ladies.
Judging from our relationship based on their terminology, I was the 'caught fish' to him.
"Don't go to weird places like that."
Vincent advised sternly. For a 'weird place,' it was somewhere everyone was desperate to attend, but I didn't bother explaining that much. I just shrugged.
"I'm not going anymore."
"Good. That's a smart decision."
I smacked his hand away as he stroked my arm as if praising me. Vincent stared in dismay at his hand hovering in the air. He gave me a look that asked what I was doing, so I put on the haughty expression I often saw in high society.
"So, I am an easy catch for you after all?"
"No."
"I suppose. You're so popular, you probably need to manage your catches separately."
"I told you, it's not like that."
Vincent's face crumpled fiercely. I ignored the look in his eyes telling me to drop it. I continued to gaze at him with displeasure. Honestly, it felt like he was acting this way because I was easy.
"Don't get the wrong idea. Just brush off what Ethan said that time."
"It wasn't entirely a lie, was it?"
"……."
Seeing him unable to speak, it seemed there was some truth to it. I narrowed my eyes. I knew this wasn't the right time for it, but *how about we spend some time apart to sort out our thoughts?*
As if reading my thoughts, Vincent grabbed my arm in a panic.
"It's only you."
"It's too late for that."
"No, listen to me. It really is only you."
It was still too late. This man still lacked the skills to soothe his lover's heart. When I shook my head and tried to turn away, he grabbed me and forced me to face him again. Vincent looked like he had a million things to say, but he just kept opening and closing his mouth, at a loss for words. Seeing him like this for the first time felt rather refreshing. I observed him, hiding that thought.
After hesitating for a while, Vincent hung his head low. With both my shoulders in his grip, I stared down at the crown of his head. Between the strands of golden hair, the tips of his ears peeked out, flushed red.
"Because you're the only one... who has seen every side of my weakness."
It was an incredibly soft voice. Unable to hear him clearly, I tilted my head slightly.
"You've seen all sorts of things, so I can't exactly hide it anymore."
"……."
"Do I really have to spell it out for you to get it?"
The latter half sounded more like a complaint than a question. But I heard him loud and clear.
I didn't say anything in response. Instead, I just stared at him. When I remained silent, Vincent let out a sigh and cautiously lifted his head. His cheeks were red. His ears and the nape of his neck were flushed crimson.
"What are you looking at?"
"Your blushing face."
So he could get this embarrassed. What a sight. I carefully scrutinized his face. Vincent furrowed his brow. It wasn't like he could hide his already flushed face anyway.
He, too, slowly scanned my face before parting his lips.
"Is the misunderstanding cleared up?"
"Yes, it's cleared up."
"I didn't know you'd get jealous over something like this."
"And here you were just telling me to be honest."
I'd be jealous too if someone said he was popular with women. He might act perfectly polite to other women, unlike how he was with me. Those women might know sides of him that I didn't. But to be honest, my feelings weren't actually hurt. Because there were sides of him that only I knew.
"You didn't seem all that interested in me earlier."
Even in the middle of all this, he was voicing his complaints.
"I trust you, that's why."
"Doesn't seem like it."
It does."
"That wasn't the vibe I got."
"That's exactly the vibe I'm giving."
As I stubbornly retorted that it was simply because I trusted him, Vincent grumbled that it felt more like a lack of affection on my part. What did it matter? This much was plenty. Too much affection could become poison, after all.
"You must have been so scared."
His expression suddenly turning stern, he murmured heavily. I hesitated for a moment before raising the gun I had taken from the kidnapper.
"I won against it with this."
"When did you learn how to shoot?"
"Incidentally, while getting my lessons? I'm quite a good shot."
My aim was actually quite decent. I held up the gun and struck a pose. When I playfully boasted that I’d show him next time, Vincent finally let out a soft chuckle. Though, at best, I was probably just a novice putting up a brave front in front of an expert.
Still, I burst into laughter as well. It was so strange. It wasn't a funny situation, yet I kept wanting to laugh. The tension that had made every hair on my body stand on end just a moment ago, and the terrifying thoughts, had all melted away before I knew it. Jokes only come out when the mind is at peace. Just being here together like this, looking at each other, and sharing a mundane conversation was enough to give us a sense of security.
"I'm sorry for saying such harsh things last time."
He offered his apology softly. I nodded as well.
"And I'm sorry for being so stubborn when you were just worried about me."
Only after exchanging apologies did we hold each other in a tight embrace.
I buried my face in his shoulder and closed my eyes. Vincent always smelled so good. It was a crisp scent, like walking through a lush forest full of vibrant grass. Even though he must have been running around searching for me, there wasn't a hint of sweat; he only smelled fragrant.
Wrapping my arms around Vincent's waist, I leaned my cheek against his golden hair. Through our pressed chests, I could hear the wild thumping of our hearts. It felt nice. As if sharing the same sentiment, his arms holding me tightened.
"Does your neck hurt?"
"It hurts."
Since I answered honestly this time, I felt him draw in a heavy breath. Soft lips pressed against the nape of my neck. The sensation of him pressing firmly and then pulling away was ticklish, yet it soothed the pain, making me feel good. I ran my fingers through his hair.
"I hate this situation. I don't even have the right to protect you."
"Do you need a right?"
"I do. I had to hear that you were in danger through someone else. And even if I wanted to help, I might lack the proper justification and end up just watching from the sidelines. Because you are my friend's sister, there's a limit to how much I can intervene in your affairs."
I hadn't realized he thought that way. I believed that as long as our feelings were mutual, external relationships didn't matter much, but he seemed to think differently. I had only just begun navigating high society, barely keeping up with adapting, yet he wanted to give me everything he had as quickly as possible. The things I received from him one by one had somehow piled up in my arms. And even then, he lamented not being able to give me more.
"I wish we could get engaged soon."
At his words, spoken like a sigh, I hesitated for a moment before pulling away slightly. I then looked around our surroundings. The large, vibrantly colored stained glass window occupying one wall cast a sacred atmosphere over the room. It felt as though a divine blessing might descend upon us. Thank goodness the place I ran to hide was a chapel.
"Then shall we do it right now?"