When Charlotte came to, she was already on a ship. She wanted to look around, but her eyes were covered, and she couldn’t see. Worse yet, her mouth was gagged, preventing her from making any sound. At least she wasn’t lying on a hard floor but on a soft makeshift bed, so her body didn’t ache, though her limbs were bound, preventing her from standing.
“Mmmph… Mmmph…”
She struggled for a long time, but there was no sign of anyone around. Just as her strength was beginning to wane, she heard a small scream from the deck, followed by a heavy splash as something was thrown into the sea. Before she could guess what it was, the door creaked open.
Fear gripped Charlotte, and she pressed herself as close to the wall as she could. Despite her pitiful resistance, calm, confident footsteps approached slowly. Memories of a few days ago suddenly flashed in her mind.
No…!
Finally, a man’s hand touched Charlotte’s trembling cheek, which felt like a small animal caught in a trap. The cold touch made her jerk her head up. Recognizing who it was, tears began to fall from her eyes. The large hand that wiped away her tears tensed.
“I made a mistake.”
“……”
“I should have cut off his arms and legs and slit his throat.”
A vein stood out on his otherwise neat forehead. Seeing her still-swollen cheek, he regretted killing that bastard too easily. Drowning him to avoid more bloodshed had been a mistake. It wasn’t like him to show mercy.
“Ri-Richard…?”
Just as he was considering retrieving the baron and executing him properly, her trembling hands clung to his hand on her cheek.
“It’s you… I’m sure of it…”
Her tear-soaked blindfold touched his cold hand. The woman clinging to him was more desperate and pitiful than ever, as if he were the only thing in her world.
…This is quite something.
His long eyes narrowed, and he licked his lips.
“Richard…”
“……”
Charlotte clung to his unresponsive hand, finally letting out the sobs she had been holding back. All thoughts of leaving vanished the moment she faced him. She just wanted confirmation that it was him in front of her. She wanted to be held and comforted in his firm embrace, as if waking from a terrible nightmare.
“Please, the blindfold…”
Just as she was about to ask him to remove it, his lips crashed onto hers. The fierce invasion made Charlotte freeze in fear. His tongue mercilessly swept through her mouth, claiming every part of it, from her palate to her teeth and the underside of her tongue. He didn’t bother untying her bound hands and limbs.
“Ah, mmph…!”
Her body, already conditioned by countless touches and kisses from that night, responded instinctively. Only after letting out a breathless moan did she finally pull away from his broad chest.
“Ha… ha…”
As she took deep breaths to fill her lungs, the tightly bound blindfold slipped off.
“Charlotte.”
It seemed to be the ship’s wheelhouse. In her now-clear vision, she saw his sharply defined features. Through the window behind him, she could see snowflakes hitting the glass. Charlotte parted her lips to speak.
“This ship…”
“We’re leaving.”
He whispered into her ear as he held her limp body. Where to? She wanted to ask, but instead, she slowly closed her eyes and accepted his approaching lips once more.
The ship set off.
Leaving the burning Seoren Hall far behind.
***
A thin, winding path snaked through the dark forest.
Outside the carriage window, all Charlotte could see were endless white birch trees. The half-ripened moonlight seeped through the clouds, illuminating the dirt road ahead of the four-wheeled carriage.
It had been two weeks since they left Corlen Island and set foot on the mainland again. When Charlotte asked where they were headed, Richard had simply placed her in this spacious, cushioned carriage without a word. As she gazed out at the dark forest path, she glanced sideways at Richard, who was sitting next to her.
“……”
He was deeply slouched in his seat, arms crossed, fast asleep. When expressionless, he was like a crocodile lurking deep in a swamp, with only its eyes visible, making anyone tense. But now, he looked like a sleeping angel from a bible. The stark contrast made Charlotte stare absentmindedly until a voice from the front startled her back to reality.
“Aren’t you sleepy?”
“No, I’m fine.”
“You can speak informally, you know.”
“…Maybe once I get used to it.”
The person in front was Anna, the maid who had accompanied them. She had been taking care of Charlotte throughout the journey.
After leaving the island, Charlotte had changed into clothes Richard bought for her and had been attended to by Anna, making her look every bit the noblewoman. The managers at the hotels they stayed at along the way treated them without suspicion, assuming they were a traveling foreign noble couple.
“How much longer until we arrive, Anna?”
“I asked the coachman a little while ago, and he said we should arrive in about an hour.”
Charlotte nodded at the straightforward answer and closed her eyes.
Lady Winkle.
Sir Richard Winkle and his wife, Charlotte Winkle. The unfamiliar noble title felt odd on her tongue and made her throat itch. It was the man sitting right next to her who had given her that title.
“I’ve bought a title and land in Katia.”
“…That’s the neighboring country.”
It was the country just across the sea. Before Charlotte could even react to the sudden mention of a foreign land, Richard continued.
“Before that, we need to finish some paperwork, so we’ll stay at a villa near the border for a few days.”
As he spoke, he was unusually wearing glasses, sitting at the hotel room desk and signing documents. She caught glimpses of papers related to bank accounts and property deeds.
When had he prepared all this? She wanted to ask when he had planned it all, but she hesitated, not wanting to seem like she was interrogating him.
“Charlotte.”
As she stood there, unable to do or say anything, Richard, having roughly organized the documents, stood up. He walked over to the fireplace, reached for the shelf, and picked up a cigarette case.
“You seem like you have something to say.”
“……”
He found a match and lit the end of the filter.
“I’m getting tired of you whining like a puppy needing to pee, constantly watching my reactions.”
Charlotte had grown accustomed to Richard Kensington’s blunt way of speaking. This meant she should either say whatever she was hiding now or keep her mouth shut. It also implied that if he had to figure it out himself, it wouldn’t be any fun for him.
“Or is it just my imagination?”
He was never a man known for kindness. Hesitating, Charlotte finally spoke up urgently.
“My mother.”
There were many questions she wanted to ask, but this one had been haunting her mind the most. Her mother was still at Mistymoor Hall.
“What about my mother? I should at least send her a letter…”
Richard took a long drag, two or three times, before stubbing out the cigarette in the ashtray. His eyes were slightly red, likely from fatigue.
“I can’t believe you took so long just to ask that.”
“What do you mean, ‘just that’? How can you say that?”
Charlotte’s voice grew stronger with indignation. The conversation seemed to be going off-track, giving her a strange sense of déjà vu. She felt like she had heard similar words from him before.
“At least you care about your mother, even though you were practically neglected growing up.”
“Richard!”
She had grown accustomed to dropping honorifics with him since their long journey began, a kind of unspoken coercion. As Charlotte turned her back sharply, Richard, sitting on the couch by the fireplace, reached out towards her. His gesture was like soothing a sulking puppy. When she ignored him, he called her name.
“Charlotte.”
His voice was so tender it made her cheeks flush. He could be incredibly gentle when he wanted to be, though such moments were rare.
“Lady Winkle.”
“……”
“Already tired of your husband?”
“That’s…!”
“That’s harsh. I didn’t expect to be ignored so soon.”
Charlotte’s mouth fell open at his unexpected words. He was always the one who held the reins in their relationship, inflicting wounds and then tending to them. It was absurd and exasperating to see him act as if she held the power. He was no different from a wolf in sheep’s clothing.
As she turned her head in frustration, the brazen wolf was smiling at her. Richard rose from his seat, approached her swiftly, and pulled the speechless Charlotte into his arms.
“Let go of me.”
“No.”
“You’re suffocating me.”
“Liar.”
Thud. In the midst of their scuffle, they fell onto the bed together. The sensual scent of white musk tickled her nose. Finally exhausted, Charlotte buried her head in his broad shoulder. She hated how easily she melted after a few soothing words, despite her anger moments ago. His unrealistically handsome face, which made her stop thinking altogether, was the problem. It was unfair how he was only gentle at times like this.
Who was the unpredictable one with incomprehensible thoughts?
“…It’s not fair.”
Lost in her thoughts, Charlotte mumbled in her sleep. Hearing this, Anna quietly draped a blanket over her.
“Whoa, whoa.”
Shortly after Charlotte fell asleep, the coachman pulled on the reins. The carriage, which had been traveling through the forest, gradually slowed down in front of a heavy iron gate. A servant waiting inside approached with a lamp and opened the gate. As he moved closer to the slightly open carriage window to greet the unfamiliar employers, he removed his hat.
“Greetings to Lord and Lady Winkle…”
“Shh.”
The servant looked up to see a man holding a finger to his lips. Though the lamp’s light didn’t fully illuminate his face, it was clear he was incredibly handsome.
“……”
The man’s gaze naturally shifted to the side. There, a woman slept with her face resting on his broad shoulder, a blanket covering her up to her shoulders. Her long, dark hair cascaded down to her waist, blending seamlessly into the darkness. They looked like a pair of painted figures.
“Ah…”
It felt like he was glimpsing a forbidden, illicit scene. The atmosphere was both mysterious and oddly seductive. While the servant stood there, momentarily entranced, the silence was broken.
“The lady is sleeping, so greet her tomorrow.”
Thud.
Anna, who had spoken briefly, reached out and closed the window. As the servant awkwardly stepped back, the coachman cracked his whip again.
“Yah!”
With a snort, the two black horses resumed their trot, their hooves pounding the ground as they continued on their way.
🍉🍉🍉
