Episode 23
"…
It's okay for me to accept this, right?"
"Of course."
Rowina nodded and embraced her son again. Her throat tightened. Heat rose to the corners of her eyes.
Seeing Damian so excited he looked like he might float away with just clothes and toys, sorrow and guilt flooded in. At the same time, she was furious with herself for not having asked her uncle for help until now.
What had that petty pride even been worth.
Her stubborn uncle wouldn't have forgiven her readily, but even so, he wouldn't have turned her away.
Even if she hadn't visited him in person because of the potential danger, if she had at least asked to borrow money.
Thinking that she had burdened her son with a poverty that an ordinary family would never have experienced, it felt as though someone was stabbing her heart with a dagger.
"Mom……?"
"Thank you for being so good, Damian."
Before the perceptive Damian could catch on to something, Rowina hugged his small body tightly and planted a kiss on the child's forehead.
"That tickles! But where are we going?"
His sulkiness lasted only a moment; at the familiar display of affection, Damian burst into giggles and looked at his mother with innocent eyes.
"To that friend of Mom's I told you about before?"
"Yeah."
"But I don't like that mister……."
"We're already done talking about that."
Rowina smiled bitterly and stroked Damian's head.
Zenok, who had been silently watching the two, let out a low cough behind her. At the implicit signal, Rowina unfolded her knees.
"Mom has to go now."
"Where?"
Damian tilted his head, not understanding.
"Aren't we going together……?"
"Yeah… Mom is leaving from a different compartment. Damian, you just need to go with this mister. We'll meet again when we get off at our destination."
"No!"
Realizing that the tender reunion between mother and child had ended, Damian wrapped his arms around Rowina's waist with an angry face.
"Damian."
"No! Are you going with that mister, Mom? Leaving me behind?"
It was an instinctive realization. While startled Rowina froze, Damian threw a tantrum and squeezed his arms tight.
"No. No way. Come with me. I don't want to go with that mister."
"Damian!"
"That mister is scary. I feel like he's going to take you away, Mom. I don't want to."
Damian, eyes glistening with tears, threw an uncharacteristic tantrum.
She stiffened for a moment at her son's unusual behavior, then Rowina bit the inside of her mouth and removed the hands wrapped around her waist.
"Mom……."
"You need to behave, Damian. What do you think you're doing in front of the mister?"
Her heart tore at Damian's sobbing face. But if she relented here, it would provoke Killian. She thought of how her every word and action would affect her son. She had to harden her heart.
"Mr. Zenok."
"Yes."
At the quiet call, Zenok nodded and signaled with his eyes to the nanny standing behind Damian.
"No! Let go! Mom, I don't need any of this stuff. Mom!"
"Young master… please calm down. I'll show you something fun, alright?"
"Let go!"
Leaving her screaming son behind, Rowina fled the second-class compartment as if escaping.
Each step felt as heavy as if shackles had been placed on her ankles. Her son's crying seemed to cling inside her ears, as if it would never fade away.
Her steps, which had been running without stopping, halted at the entrance to the first-class carriage. Rowina opened her mouth deliberately to Zenok, who had opened the carriage door.
"Let me say this once more……."
"……."
"Please take good care of Damian."
She had already received his promise, but it did not set her mind at ease.
"Of course."
"Not a single hair on his head should be touched. If something happens to Damian…… I don't even know what I might do."
It was a face that feared not even death. Zenok nodded repeatedly.
"He is the only son of the master I serve as well. Please do not worry. You may trust me."
Only after receiving confirmation several times did Rowina step into the first-class carriage. She wore the face of a death row prisoner walking to the gallows.
* * *
After knocking twice, Zenok reported to the Duke inside the compartment in a low voice.
"Your Grace."
"……."
"I have brought Miss Philone."
There was no answer. Zenok carefully opened the door and stepped back.
Taking a deep breath, Rowina entered the compartment, and as if it had been waiting, the door clicked shut. The spacious first-class compartment was filled only with a chilling air. A cold order fell upon Rowina, who had been looking only at the floor.
"Sit."
Rowina nodded and sat far away toward the opposite door instead of answering. Killian, who had been reading the newspaper by the window, twitched his eyebrows.
"So you're going to rebel in this manner?"
It was a tone that, in the past, would have made her kneel before him. At his unpleasant remark, Rowina thought of that night five years ago in the carriage.
The day she had removed his glove with her mouth.
It was one of many days. Days when she had been thoroughly trampled by him.
Even wearing a dress so expensive it would make one's eyes pop, a necklace worth a house, and shoes and a bag made by a foreign craftsman, five years ago she had been a miserable slave.
A slave to this man, with both her mind and body bound.
"…Of course not. I know my place."
They had been days when she had blinded and deafened herself to love.
She had been foolish and stupid. On the other hand, the man before her was still as impregnable and solid as a fortress. Even though she had thought herself much stronger after going through various things over the past five years, merely sitting across from him made it hard to breathe.
Simply sharing the same air made her body tense automatically. Rowina, her spine rigid, added slowly.
"I simply sat apart because I thought I might disturb your concentration."
At her calm answer, Killian irritably turned the newspaper to the next page. Silence descended in the compartment. The train let out a long rumble and slowly began to move. After reading the last page, Killian folded the newspaper and looked at her.
"You said you'd know your place, but it seems that's not the case."
"…Pardon?"
"You think Miss Philone has that much influence over me?"
His eyes showed genuine curiosity. At his unchanging cruelty, Rowina's pupils wavered.
At that sight, Killian curled his lips and added.
"Ah. One thing. I'll commend you for separating the brat."
"……."
"Keep your mouth shut like that the entire way."
Killian crossed his long legs, rested his elbow on the window frame, and propped his chin on his palm.
Brat.
How dare he call Damian that. That this man was her son's father.
Rowina clutched her skirt with pale fingertips. That he could look so calm while barging into her life, trampling on it, and dragging her back to hell was detestable enough to make her want to kill him.
And the past of this man who had lived well, unlike herself who had become shabby and haggard.
Her anger finally erupted like an active volcano.
"…May I ask one thing before that?"
She didn't expect an answer. Killian, with his eyes closed, seemed intent on ignoring her words. Nevertheless, Rowina continued resolutely.
"If I cannot exert any influence over Your Grace."
"……."
"Then why did you come looking for me again?"
Killian slowly opened his eyes. Despite the quiet warning, the impulse filling her head couldn't be controlled. Questions filled with anger spilled through her teeth.
"Why did you barge into my home, drag my son and me who were living well, and take us to Rockford— ah!"
Before she could even finish her sentence, a large hand gripped her chin. With a dangerously narrow gap between their lips, Killian whispered.
"I told you."
"……."
"I said it's only right that I pick up the trash I threw away. And I told you to shut your mouth. Are you so dim that I have to say it twice?"
"…So."
It was an answer she couldn't understand at all. It was probably just a whim. Having concluded that, Rowina grabbed his hand, which gripped her chin, with both of hers. For a moment, the hand that touched her seemed to falter, but it must have been her imagination.
"So when will you throw me away again?"
Strength entered the hand gripping her chin. It was a warning to shut up. Paying it no mind, Rowina moved her tongue.
"How long must I stay by Your Grace's side? Until when must I be at the mercy of the Duke who is holding my son hostage?"
She could do whatever he wanted. If only he would throw her away again someday. And if the man before her never appeared before her and Damian again.
An atmosphere as precarious as a tightly pulled thread enveloped the two. At her sharp words, his pale irises like glass darkened.
Reading the unfiltered anger, Rowina sneered inwardly. He would trample her cruelly soon. But Killian, his lips twitching as if suppressing anger, only exhaled hot breath.
At his uncharacteristic action, the moment Rowina was surprised, Killian—who had been glaring as if he would strangle her at any moment—covered her parted lips with his own.