“You claim you lived in a seaside cliff village, yet here you seem as hesitant as a cat by the water.”
“…I never actually fished or dug for clams myself. I’ve been working in service since I was young…”
“Ah, is that so.”
He smiled as if he just remembered, though he likely knew all along. At that moment, as Charlotte pouted, a shadow fell over her and the bun she had meticulously twisted up slowly unraveled.
“Stay just like this in front of me.”
Richard gently commanded as he let her hair down, evoking memories of the office they were in before. It was the only other time she had let her hair down in front of him. Suddenly recalling that memory made Charlotte’s cheeks flush, and as she clamped her mouth shut, Richard emphasized,
“Only in front of me.”
He was smiling, but his gaze was cruel. Charlotte now fully understood what that smile meant.
Since they had become lovers, he had been kind and gentle, but he was a man who could switch his facade at any moment. His possessiveness was strong, and he was prone to jealousy. There had been times when a friendly chat with a stable boy had led him to a breathless embrace in a corridor corner.
‘Ugh… Mmh.’
She couldn’t muster a proper resistance, only managing to gasp a stifled breath.
‘Ah…’
Despite pushing against his solid chest out of fear of being seen, Richard did not back down an inch, satisfying his desires. It was only when she felt like she was losing her breath that she was freed. Her legs nearly gave out, but he caught her and whispered in her ear.
“Do it more.”
“What… do more?”
“Resisting.”
His veins bulged, and his hand swept lightly across her waist.
“It excites me more.”
Only after seeing her pale, drained face did he let her go. There was no further touch, but Charlotte knew it was merely a reprieve he granted.
Barely nodding as the memory surfaced, Richard appeared pleased as he played with the ends of her long hair.
“You seem to have gotten used to it.”
“What?”
“Your hand, it’s not shaking anymore.”
Looking down, she noticed her once trembling hands were now steady. Gathering courage, she looked around and saw a scene even more beautiful than before.
“It’s truly… so beautiful.”
The exclamation slipped out unintentionally.
“Did you come here often as a child?”
“From time to time.”
“On Sundays?”
She added cautiously, prompting a slight smile from Richard.
“I was more devout than you’d think.”
“But why don’t you attend services now?”
She had always wanted to ask this delicate question. In Ethelwood, religion was considered sacred, transcending class. There had been much gossip about him since he never showed his face in church after his military discharge. Though the name ‘Kensington’ prevented direct criticism, the undertones were clearly disapproving.
“It’s a boring story.”
“Please, tell me.”
Resting his elbows on the railing, Richard leaned his cheek against his hand and closed his eyes as if sinking into a nap, languid like a cat stretching after a hearty lunch. His long eyelashes cast deep shadows across his face, reminiscent of a bisque doll.
“I nearly died when I was captured by rebels on a colonial island.”
Charlotte barely dared to breathe as he spoke. It was a story she was hearing for the first time, likely a secret he hadn’t shared with anyone else given his nature.
“My nails were pulled out, and my back was shredded by whips. During the day, I’d struggle not wanting to die, and at night, I would beg to be killed.”
His tone was calm, contrasting with the content of his story. It was a tale that might have left permanent scars on anyone else, but he continued as if it was nothing.
“One day, I started hearing hallucinations.”
“Hallucinations…?”
“Yes. It was a voice I had occasionally heard since I was quite young.”
Richard opened his eyes and twisted his lips as if challenging her to believe him.
“A formless ‘monster’ offered to save me if I gave it something in return.”
“And…?”
“Anything.”
His answer was succinct. Richard clenched and then relaxed his fist as if feeling the weight of his own body for the first time.
“I told it I’d give anything—my flesh, bones, soul—anything to not die in that hellish place.”
Charlotte’s eyes wavered aimlessly.
He recalled that time emotionlessly. Surrounded by enemies, subjected to continuous torture, he was just waiting for death each day. In that desperate situation, he didn’t care who offered a helping hand—be it a monster or a devil.
“So then…”
As Charlotte hesitantly asked, shrinking back, Richard smiled. His lips parted to reveal even teeth, his expression saintly yet eerie under the winter sun, like a priest draped in a thin veil but also chilling, as if reaching out could reveal a demon licking its lips in greed.
Suddenly, Charlotte bowed her head. The man’s eyes narrowed.
“Why?”
“…”
“Am I frightening you?”
His gaze traced the flushed tips of her ears, the smooth line of her throat, the waist encircled by his arm.
“Are you afraid that the monster from back then is in front of you now?”
As sweet as butter on the tongue, absurdly soft, and easily melting.
Like a young, frail animal unaware of the snake hidden in the bushes.
Richard, ceasing his taunting, lifted his hand from his chin and leaned forward. A vast shadow enveloped Charlotte just as she was covered.
“It must have hurt a lot…”
Her hands trembled, not from fear but from sorrow. Her small face tilted up towards him, her lips spasming in an effort to form something resembling a smile, as if the tears falling weren’t her own.
“It must have been lonely, desperate, and very painful…”
Her words were abruptly silenced by his lips covering hers. It happened in an instant. The boat rocked dangerously due to the sudden shift in weight.
“Ah… No!”
Charlotte gasped, a primal fear surfacing. She tried to shake off the hands gripping her wrists.
“The boat, the boat is…”
“Shh.”
Charlotte had forgotten. Her lover was a ruthless man. He wiped the cold tears from her cheek with his thumb as if he were brushing off sugar, and then licked it off. Afterward, he kissed her trembling eyelashes and whispered like a devil seducing an innocent girl.
“You don’t want to do this here, do you?”
What exactly? She dared not ask.
“…”
“Yes?”
His expression, while suggesting something unmentionable, was as innocent as a boy pleading with his sister for an afternoon treat. He was a man who offered choices without giving a way out, claiming to let her decide while actually cornering her completely. It was more than cruel; it was monstrous.
“Sir Richard is… really…”
Her cheeks flushed, her eyes wet and unstable. Charlotte, her body slackening, sobbed in surrender.
“He’s really… a terrible person.”
“Ah.”
He responded tenderly as if he had received a compliment, and then their lips met again.
“Typical.”
***
The place where she stood was a bizarre wilderness.
A dry and desolate area with neither the random growth of ferns nor the damp moss that usually adorned such landscapes. Knowing it was a dream made it less frightening. Even though she was dressed in a roomy white chemise, she felt no cold. She walked barefoot on the withered grass, facing the chilly wind, feeling like a ghost wandering through ruins.
Charlotte relaxed and took deep breaths as she surveyed her surroundings.
“Where is this?”
There was a single house on the barren hill, an old and dilapidated shack.
She needed to go inside. Her instinct whispered. She had to go inside to return. As if under a spell, she walked up the rocky incline.
When she reached the house, she suddenly wondered. Go back? Where to? Should I really go inside?
Hesitating, the door opened.
Creak.
“Is anyone there?”
She didn’t expect an answer but asked out of politeness. Naturally, no response came. As she stepped inside, the door closed behind her immediately.
Inside, the shack was surprisingly cozy compared to its exterior. A couch, a rocking chair, a Turkish carpet on the floor, a cast-iron stove, and a small kitchenette adequate for light cooking. The place was dust-free, as if someone was maintaining it.
After scanning the area, Charlotte cautiously sat on the couch. As she relaxed, drowsiness quickly overcame her. Her eyelids drooped, and she dozed off briefly until, suddenly, the door opened and something entered.
A sleek and menacing form. Sharp eyes and fangs. It was a black panther.
“Purr…”
Before she could scream, the panther elegantly leaped and pinned her down by the shoulders and legs. Her pale face reflected in the purple pupils of the panther. Thump thump. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears.
The sharp claws felt as if they could tear through her delicate skin at any moment. The eyes of the beast opposite her were as deep as a swamp. A primal fear. The helplessness before an overwhelming predator. The panther growled softly, its breath close.
It has to be a dream. It’s just a dream, and she would wake up.
That thought was her only shield. Charlotte tightly closed her eyes. But just then, a strange sensation overtook her, and she writhed in shock.
“No…!”
The beast licked her nape. The rough and damp sensation pierced through to her veins. Confused and only able to shake her head, a familiar voice suddenly reached her ears.
“Charlotte.”
“Sir Richard?”
She wanted to call out, but no voice came. She tried to open her eyes, but the weight on her eyelids kept her vision shrouded in darkness. A low, soft voice continued.
“Did you want to escape?”
Escape? Her?
There had never been such a thought. Impossible. Her mind was a jumble amidst the confusion. Surely what was atop her was a massive, ferocious beast, yet why—
“Let, let me go!”
“I understand. Frightened, foolish rabbits often fail to recognize their master.”
“What…?”
“It’s the master’s duty to make himself recognized.”
Richard mocked gently in response to her feeble resistance.
“You won’t have any trouble living even without your Achilles tendons.”
The beast’s paws, which had gripped her wrists, slowly transformed into human hands. He pressed down each trembling finger firmly, interlocking them with strength.
“It’s okay. It will all be over soon.”
No! I don’t want this!
“Stop…!”
It was only a moment later that Charlotte’s body, which had felt sunk in a bog, was released. A scream erupted from her, and she exhaled a sharp breath that had risen to her throat, sweat cooling as it trickled down her forehead.
“Charlotte…?”
Awakened by her daughter’s scream, Cynthia asked worriedly.
“Are you alright? If you’re not feeling well, you don’t have to come to the island.”
“No, I’m fine. It was nothing, Mom.”
Charlotte shook her head and forced a smile.
“It was just a nightmare, that’s all.”
🍉🍉🍉
