CHAPTER 36
Somehow, today, Edwin had a strong feeling that Vivianne would be here—and he was right. She sat in the usual spot, the weakest version of herself, undressing as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Vivianne let her pale, naked body float on the dark lakeside, drifting quietly. From her expressionless corpse, there wasn’t even a trace of noise. An empty shell of a soul, hauntingly beautiful, as though it would never decay. That beautiful corpse sank into the water, dashing Edwin’s hopes that she might come alive again as she emerged from the depths, her golden hair glistening and shining.
“You can’t die,” he murmured.
Vivianne’s red, damp cheek—felt through the water dripping off his palm—was warm. Too warm and soft to be mistaken for the pale corpse floating on the surface.
“Then what about me? I’ll be left behind… alone.”
It was a relief. That she hadn’t died. That she was alive. And because of that, he could now bring her death himself.
Vivianne’s wet eyes rippled like waves. In his arms, where she had willingly come, where she had stubbornly stayed, she must have sensed his murderous intent.
How long would it take her to realize the mistake she had made? Edwin was deeply curious.
“Dying now, after I’ve come all this way to kill you? Hmm… Sorry, but that won’t do.”
His fingers, which had been stroking her cheek, slipped. Gently caressing her small, pointed chin, his gaze was drawn to her slightly parted, red lips.
They were a slightly different color than when she had pleaded and pouted, saying she’d do anything for Jefferson, the gatekeeper. Unlike back then, her lips were no longer smooth; they were cracked. Even so, the moisture clinging to them made them passable.
Her lips no longer held the charm that once made him imagine the taste of fruit. The foolish woman, who couldn’t even fasten her clothes properly, was now trying to put distance between them.
Vivianne had the arrogant misconception that she could leave his embrace as easily as she had entered it.
Edwin’s strong arm tightened around her waist, pulling her closer. Their bodies, now pressed together, shared a faint warmth that seeped through their dampening clothes, intensifying the heat. Pulled into his grip, Vivianne was helplessly crushed against him. His shirt and black pants were becoming soaked as well.
Her wet hands tried to create some space between them by pushing at his shoulders, but instead, her buttons came undone, revealing more skin.
But the more she struggled, the more recklessly her unbuttoned neckline opened. Unable to resist any longer, she stopped pushing him away and instead tried to pull her disheveled clothes together.
Even as Vivianne cast a resentful glance at him, his gaze remained fixed on her lips. She bit down on her lower lip, as if to hide it, then pulled in her upper lip as well, attempting to shield them entirely. But his thumb pressed firmly against her chin.
As her jaw was forced open, her tightly shut lips parted with a soft popping sound. The tip of his thumb brushed against her lips, and her small, fragile body shuddered in shock.
“Don’t die,” he murmured, his blue eyes quietly gazing up at her.
His expression carried the same passion as before, but this time it was softer, more tender, and less violent.
A soft sigh brushed against Vivianne’s forehead. Her heart was engulfed in intense, anxious tension. Interpreting it as fear or terror, she stretched out a hand, weakly touching his chest.
The damp clothes made it feel as though they were skin-to-skin. She couldn’t stand holding back any longer, feeling so exposed and restrained.
“Please let me go. I’m begging you. I’ll plead with you, I’ll grovel… Didn’t you say you’d listen to me? Didn’t you say you’d show me mercy? Please… stop this. Just let me go…”
Now, she raised her gray eyes and began to plead with desperation. The fierce defiance in her expression had completely vanished, leaving only a consuming desire to escape.
Edwin, quietly gazing down at Vivianne, used the hand that had been caressing her chin to gently cradle her cheek. His fingers brushed gently over her tear-stained eyes before releasing his grip on her waist.
Instinctively, Vivianne moved away, curling up as small as possible to hide her exposed body.
Edwin, also drenched, took a step back before walking past her.
Is he really leaving?
She allowed herself a brief moment of hope, but the sound of his footsteps approaching dashed her fragile expectations.
“I don’t think that’s what you’re supposed to use it for at times like this.”
Something thick and heavy fell over her body. It was her shawl, which she didn’t even remember dropping.
Vivianne turned to Edwin, bewildered, just as a lake breeze swept between them.
His dark hair swayed in the summer wind over the lake, and for the first time, she could clearly see his blue eyes.
“Don’t die, Vivianne.”
Edwin’s lips curved into a refreshing smile. Without another word, he turned and walked away, his steps fading into the distance.
Left there alone and dazed, Vivianne watched his figure disappear completely before sinking into the grass in a heap.
Late that night, a man, heavily drunk, woke several townspeople from their sleep with loud singing that could rival that of a tone-deaf performer.
Unable to endure it any longer, one of the townspeople opened a window and hurled curses at the middle-aged drunkard.
Recognizing him as the town’s infamous drunk, the townsperson clicked their tongue in annoyance and shut the window after receiving an equally profane retort. They quickly calculated that engaging further would only end in their own frustration.
Rodinia was an important waypoint connecting the southern metropolis of Rowend to the capital city of Farrington. The terrain between the two cities was notoriously rugged, with boats being the usual means of travel.
Still, some people chose to journey by land, and most of them passed through Rodinia, which offered the relative advantage of flat terrain. Many who had fallen behind on the arduous journey ended up settling there.
One such uninvited guest was a staggering, middle-aged man who had barged into the inn one day, seemingly out of nowhere.
“Mr. Haven! When are you going to pay for your room? When will those friends of yours arrive?”
The innkeeper, Crystal, shouted irritably the moment she saw him. Realizing it was late, she quickly lowered her voice but couldn’t entirely mask her frustration.
“Do you think I’d skip out on paying? Come on, you’re truly harsh! Mark my words! My comrades will come and pay twice the amount! You might not know, but I once worked in the royal palace. I had the king’s trust, you see—”
“Ugh! Please stop! Cut the crap. I’ve heard that tiresome story a million times! Just go upstairs already!”
Cut off mid-sentence, the man blinked in confusion through his drunken haze, then burst into laughter. His laughter echoed through the inn as he stumbled upstairs, prompting the innkeeper to yell at him to keep quiet.
Grumbling and muttering complaints about Crystal, the man wandered the hallways in search of his room. Then, a sobbing sound echoing through the corridor stopped him in his tracks. Following the source of the crying, he banged loudly on a door.
“Hey! Can’t you hear me? The innkeeper told you to shut up! If you wail like that again, I’ll wring your neck and hang it on the city wall! Not me, of course—Madam Crystal would be the one to do it. So hush and—”
“Mr. Haven!”
Crystal, who had rushed up to the second floor in a panic, struck the man’s back with all her might. The force of her blows sent him stumbling into his room before he could even feel indignant about his pride being hurt.
After practically locking Haven inside his room, Crystal turned toward the door he had been banging on.
“Miss, I’m sorry about that. He’s not a bad person; he just sometimes acts like that. Don’t worry, you can get some rest now.”
Crystal reassured the two young women inside the room before heading back downstairs. For a while, the corridor remained quiet, as though peace had finally returned. But soon, the sobbing resumed.
Charlotte, who had been kicked out of the manor and forced to walk all the way to town, swallowed back her tears. Her legs throbbed with pain, as though they were about to give out. Curling up on the creaking bed, she tried desperately to stifle her sobs.
Edwin had mercilessly driven her out—out of the manor, with no carriage and no concern for her fate. Whether she died on the road or was robbed and killed by bandits, it seemed to matter little to him.
All he had given her was a single trunk—too shabby to even be called luggage—and a handful of coins. As a final message, he had told her, through Abernathy, that this was all that remained of Baron Baytness’ inheritance.
“My lady, I’m so sorry. It’s all because of me. Because of me, you… sob.”
Unlike Charlotte, who stifled her cries, Marian couldn’t hold back her loud, tearful sobs.
What made Charlotte hate her even more was that Marian was the only one she could rely on. Without her, Charlotte would have no protection from the harshness of the world.
It was truly unfair—and infuriating.
She had never mocked or looked down on Vivianne for working as a maid. If anything, Edwin had been the one to ridicule her, laughing at her efforts to repay her debts through embroidery. Wasn’t it hypocritical of him to belittle Vivianne while sneering at her hard work?
Even if this mess was somehow her own fault, Charlotte had hoped that Edwin, of all people, would stand by her.
Maybe it wasn’t love, but they were family. From childhood to now, Edwin had been her entire life.
“Still, I don’t think the Duke really meant to cast you out. If you stay here quietly, I’m sure he’ll come back for you. What does the young lady mean to the duke? Or… maybe you could tell him you’ll marry Baron Zimmerman? He might forgive you if you did.”
“What?! Forgive me?!”
Charlotte glared at Marian, biting her lip.
“Was it my fault? Who caused this mess? The one who made the Duke angry by doing something he didn’t even ask for was you! If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t even be here!”
Charlotte buried her face in her knees and sobbed bitterly. Feeling guilty, Marian sniffled and pressed her lips tightly together.
Still, whenever Charlotte heard even the faintest sound from outside, she would jerk her head up in fear.
Burrowing under the blanket, she begged Marian to stay close. Marian, pressing herself against the trembling Charlotte, tried to soothe her anxiety.
“I’m so scared. What if something really happens, Marian?”
“Nothing bad will happen. I already told the innkeeper where you’re from and who your guardian is. She’ll be cautious of us. So, nothing will happen.”
Marian, gently patting Charlotte’s small back as she wept, suddenly brightened as if she had remembered something.
“Oh, right! Now that I think about it, we have someone trustworthy, don’t we? There’s someone in this village we can safely rely on.”
Her optimistic tone sparked a glimmer of hope in Charlotte. She desperately wanted to escape the shabby inn room, brimming with threats and uncertainties, as soon as possible.
“Who? Who is it? Is it someone you know?”
Charlotte shook Marian’s arm impatiently, urging her to share the solution she had thought of.
“Theo Evans! That friend of Aveline’s who pointed a gun at the Duke. He’s a tailor, remember?”
The gray sky, heavy with storm clouds, painted Vivianne’s room entirely in shades of gray.
Standing by the wide-open window, Vivianne gazed quietly down at the summer garden. The garden should have been bursting with life, but it was dampened by the dark clouds that threatened to bring rain.
Yesterday brought a torrent of trials to Vivianne:
The humiliation and disgrace inflicted by the Duke.
The realization that she had been toyed with by his childish games.
The shame of exposing herself to a stranger.
Vivianne was certain now—what she had confirmed yesterday was neither doubt nor misunderstanding.
What he wanted to take from her, what he wanted to gain, was neither trivial nor easy to achieve.
Mr. Shaffer’s assessment of the Duke of Baytness was completely wrong. If the people of Neway knew what kind of desires the Duke harbored, they, too, would surely turn their backs on him.
He wasn’t satisfied with the death of the body; he wanted the death of the spirit as well.
Even the cool breeze that had come after so long could not fill the emptiness in her heart. The vitality of this summer could not sow new seeds in Vivianne’s desolate heart.
“Miss, the Duke is calling for you.”
Vivianne turned to face Sophie, who was as innocent and oblivious as ever. She smiled faintly and nodded weakly.
His revenge would end with the death of her body. She would not let him take anything more than that.
