Episode 12
“It is difficult to believe, but they say she was having a secret tryst with Miss Philone.”
At the grave confession, the air froze. Under the pressure that made it hard even to breathe, Benedict bit his lower lip. It was just as he managed to lift the head he had bowed beneath an aura as frigid as a northern blizzard.
“Ha!”
Killian, who had been listening to the denunciation with icy composure, let out a scoff. He narrowed his eyes at Benedict, who had frozen in place.
“If you were going to attach someone to her, you should at least have chosen a heterosexual. To slander her by bringing in a homosexual, of all people. Did Gertrude not give you a hint? That you had been found out.”
“There is a witness.”
As though he had been waiting for this, Benedict opened the door with a grief-stricken expression. A girl stood there, her head lowered, trembling with fear.
“M-My name is Melissa. Your Highness.”
Looking at the shivering girl, Benedict swallowed dryly.
Three years ago, Gertrude’s great mistake had been her meddlesome suggestion that the duke, who never kept women close, take in Rowina Philone.
While he had been overseas, how utterly stunned he had been to hear that His Highness had taken a mistress! He was a man destined for greater things. If he had something like a mistress, she would only become a shackle on his ankles. And so, without anyone knowing, Benedict had placed this country girl named Melissa at Rowina Philone’s side and behaved favorably toward Rowina.
If, with time, His Highness had thrown his mistress away on his own, Benedict would not have had to resort to any measures. But Rowina Philone surpassed his expectations in every respect. As time passed, the duke, whether knowingly or not, began to pay attention to her, and that attention grew deeper with each passing day. Without even realizing it himself.
For the past three years, watching him from beside him, Benedict had suppressed his impatience and unease. Killian Maximilian Devonshire, his brilliant lord, must never be swayed by anyone. The boy Benedict had followed and been so captivated by was a boy who was ruled by no one and ruled over all. Much less by some woman.
Therefore, Miss Philone was someone who had to be distanced from his lord. From the moment he realized that fact, he had spent a long time laying the groundwork step by step and preparing this trap with meticulous care.
“Melissa Brown.”
Benedict, calling the maid in place of the expressionless Killian, spoke with a solemn face.
“Except for the hours when you slept, you were with your mistress for her every move, were you not?”
“…
Yes.”
“You have something to report regarding Miss Philone, do you not?”
Benedict leisurely waited for her answer. The safety of her family depended on it, so there was only one thing she could say.
“Yes…
My lady… no, Miss Philone…….”
Holding back her tears, Melissa nodded.
“C-Committed adultery with Mr. William. To avoid the eyes of those around her, she even d-dressed as a man.”
After Killian Devonshire became an adult, he had never once allowed anyone who betrayed him to live.
The nursemaid who, when he was fourteen, sold all his information to the queen; the classmate who aided in his assassination while he was studying abroad; the former professor who acted like a pure and upright mentor while secretly trying to gain the halo of the ducal house.
All of them had been dealt with as missing persons and vanished without a sound or rumor. No, no one had recognized them. When a corpse rotted and floated to the surface of the water, it became difficult to identify.
There had been no exceptions. Rowina Philone’s end ought to have been the same.
He should have ruined that abominable face, cut out the tongue that dared speak of love, and gouged out the eyes that had dared contain a man other than himself. Then, without a trace of lingering attachment, he should have thrown the cold body into the sea.
Thus, in truth, death was not something distant from Rowina Philone.
From the moment Killian Devonshire took Rowina Philone as his mistress, countless deaths had brushed over that woman’s head.
Death by poison, death by the knife of a ruffian, sometimes death in a carriage accident, or death crushed beneath a pillar in a fire.
And so, for the past three years, Killian had kept watch on his surroundings like a hunting dog with glowing eyes in the dark.
Because he knew that the moment he let his guard down, sharp fangs like those of a viper would tear his mistress to shreds.
So if he simply let go of that hand, it would be easy. The queen would never miss the opportunity.
However.
Leaning back against the headboard, Killian quietly looked at the woman lying beside him. In the dim light of dawn, her slender outline was revealed. Blonde hair, loosened like spun gold, covered the bed; cheeks red as summer peaches; round, delicate shoulders and arms.
As he looked at her, there was no trace of a courtesan.
It was the face of a pure angel who knew nothing. It was the face of the country girl he had met on the first day, the one who had blushed and smiled shyly.
His large-knuckled hand slid down her smooth cheek and brushed the area around her neck.
Rowina Philone was different from those he had killed until now.
This woman belonged to him from head to toe. Entirely his possession.
He would rather strangle her to death himself than see her corpse made by another’s hand.
With an indifferent face, Killian imagined Rowina clinging to him.
At first, bewildered by the situation, she would grab his hand. Of course, he would not answer. He would climb atop her body as she begged to be spared and put more strength into both hands.
He wondered whether this woman would still be beautiful when she was desperately gasping and writhing.
“Your…
Highness?”
The moment he lightly grasped her neck with one hand, Killian met eyes full of life, like green foliage. As his hand paused, Rowina yawned long and called him.
“Is this… a dream?”
Long, straight fingers. The back of a hand with tendons standing out. Firm knuckles. Savoring the familiar sensation, Rowina brought his hand to her cheek. A pleasant coolness passed through the skin where they touched.
“You’ve never watched me sleep before…. So this is a dream, isn’t it?”
He was a man who, on the morning after spending the night together, left only a cold space beside her.
A man who said nothing even when she asked him to stay with her.
Once again, he had taken her as he pleased and abandoned her. For four whole days.
“Yes.”
Killian answered quietly and closed his mouth.
So it really is a dream.
At the sight of his eyes, strangely softened, Rowina slowly drew up the corners of her mouth.
“Then I want to act spoiled…….”
It was his gentle face, one she had not seen in a long time. For some reason, the pit of her stomach felt heavy. The tip of her nose stung, and heat rose in her eyes.
Killian, who had been staring intently at Rowina’s face, asked.
“How?”
“Please stroke my hair. Until I fall asleep…….”
After blinking for a moment, Killian stroked her long hair as she wished. Rowina savored his touch. His careful, fluttering caresses made her feel as if her feet were lifting off the ground.
“It’s a dream…, it’s definitely a dream…….”
Drowsiness tangled her thoughts in every direction. She did not want to sleep, but her eyelids kept sinking. If she closed her eyes and opened them again, she felt as though she would see the empty space beside her, as always.
“Sleep.”
The hand toying with her hair pressed down over her eyes. Rowina drifted off to sleep. Killian quietly looked down at her. For a very long time.
* * *
When she opened her eyes again, she was alone after all.
Feeling hollow, Rowina rose and sat before the dressing table. Today marked the fifth day she had remained alone in the spacious bedroom since the day Killian had shown her that cold face for no reason.
The publishing house where she had intended to put out her book had closed in the meantime, and the building manager said he did not even know a man named William Zenon.
She was depressed and exhausted. The future before her seemed like a tangled skein of thread.
“Where and how am I supposed to begin untangling it…….”
As Rowina looked at her haggard face and tried to calm her troubled heart, someone knocked outside the door. No sooner had she said to come in than the door opened.
“You came at just the right time. Leave the wash water on the nightstand for now, and help me put up my hair.”
She naturally assumed it was Melissa. Without even looking, she was about to gather her hair together and tie it when a firm hand overlapped the back of Rowina’s hand.
Startled, Rowina lifted her head. At the same time, she met pupils as cold as ice through the mirror.
“D-Duke?”
“Miss Philone.”
Killian, who had approached without a sound, spoke softly.
“Do not put up your hair.”
“…….”
“It suits you better down.”
“Yesterday…….”
It was a terribly unfamiliar face, yet at the same time, it was a familiar one.
Rowina widened her eyes and parted her lips.
“Was yesterday not a dream……?”
She recalled that tender face that had stroked her hair with a cool hand. Killian swept once through her long blonde hair, which wound around his fingers like satin, and took her delicate shoulders in both hands.
“Do you wish it had been a dream?”
“……
No.”
Rowina slowly shook her head. With a faint smile, Killian lightly kissed the crown of her head.
“That night, I behaved rashly.”
“…….”
“Is your body all right?”
At his smooth voice, instead of answering, Rowina doubted her own ears.
Impossible. Am I still dreaming? Have I not yet woken from the dream I had earlier?
This was the very image she had dared wish for only in dreams.
Killian, waking in the morning and calling her tenderly.
Killian, looking at her as though he were looking at something precious.
Killian, speaking to her kindly.
“Rowina.”
Tears welled in her emerald eyes and fell, drop by drop. Letting out a light sigh, Killian wiped her tears with his index finger.