“Your cheek…! Did they hit you? Let me see.”
It seemed Kalian had only just now noticed the mark Yvonne had left on Angela. His energy turned razor-sharp, as if it could slice through the air itself.
Kalian pulled Angela’s hand, turning her to face him directly. His gaze was so piercing, so persistent in fixating on the swollen redness of her cheek, that it felt as if he were counting every fine hair on her skin.
At this rate, her cheeks would redden more from his stare than from being struck.
At least he won’t notice, Angela thought wryly.
“Who was it?”
Kalian lifted his hand as if to gently stroke her cheek.
But he hesitated—his hand hovered near, unable to make contact, perhaps afraid it would hurt her.
“Oh? Are you going to get angry at the person who hit me too? Will you cut off their hand, just like earlier?”
“Tell me. Who did this?”
Angela had only said it lightly, thinking he was just worrying too much.
But Kalian reacted as if he truly intended to do just that.
Instead of answering, Angela leaned her head against his chest.
Tonight, Kalian was being uncharacteristically gentle, and she felt that he would allow even this.
As expected, Kalian quietly accepted her weight.
And for Angela, that alone was enough.
“Who did it? Tell me before I go find them myself.”
Angela remained silent, feeling the intense heartbeat pounding against her cheek.
She knew that once she told him, Kalian would pull away.
His anger had no place to go.
So before she had to face that, she took in everything she could—cherishing this moment before it slipped away.
Then, at last, Angela lifted herself from his chest, looked up into his eyes, and spoke.
“…It was Yvonne. My mother must really hate me.”
“What happened?”
“…Huh?”
Angela looked at Kalian in surprise.
She had expected him to interrogate her about what she had done to provoke Yvonne.
She had thought he would side with Yvonne, get angry with Angela, and leave in frustration—leaving her alone once again.
That was the usual pattern between them.
She had never expected him to simply wait, listening for what she had to say next.
Angela momentarily lost her words.
“…Beatrice cried.”
After hesitating, Angela finally accepted the chance to explain herself—something she had never been given before.
“I really didn’t make her cry this time… but I guess Yvonne thought differently. She hit me right away.”
Angela had never had to defend herself like this before, so she wasn’t sure if she had made her innocence clear.
She tried to steady her expression as if it were nothing and waited for Kalian’s judgment.
Kalian, who had been sitting in silence, suddenly opened the carriage window.
A knight on horseback approached, and Kalian gave a calm order.
“Turn the carriage around. We’re going to my estate. Inform the Bilton estate that Lady Bilton will be staying with me for a few days.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
Angela averted her gaze, pretending not to see him closing the window.
She had no immunity to this kind of kindness and didn’t know how to respond.
She wanted to say thank you, but she was afraid that admitting her gratitude would expose the cowardice in her—her unwillingness to return to the Bilton estate.
Still, just knowing she wouldn’t have to return immediately made her feel as if she could breathe again.
It was like finding an air pocket just before drowning in deep water.
Angela closed her eyes.
Not because she was tired, but because she wanted to imagine something.
She wanted to open them and find herself in a new world where she was alone with Kalian.
In that world, she wanted to do only good things for him.
But Kalian would probably never know she had such thoughts.
—
Had her imagination turned into reality?
Angela slowly opened her eyes, only to feel as if she had entered a completely different world.
The Florence estate was nothing like the Bilton estate.
If the Bilton estate was a place that flaunted its elegance in solitude, then the Florence estate felt like an expanded version of the carriage they had just ridden—a place of strength.
Anyone could tell at a glance that this was a warrior’s home.
It resembled a fortress more than a noble estate.
And yet, despite always feeling like she was fighting a war at the Bilton estate, Angela somehow felt more at ease here.
“…!”
She had never lacked material wealth, even if her heart had been impoverished.
So she rarely found herself admiring anything.
Yet, the moment she stepped into the Florence estate’s grand lobby, her eyes widened in awe.
She wasn’t even aware of how childlike her reaction was—something Mary might have done.
Unlike the Bilton estate, which was covered in elaborate murals boasting all kinds of flamboyance, the Florence estate had a more structured and restrained elegance.
The lobby was a balanced harmony of black and white.
It was neat, orderly.
Angela almost wondered if Kalian had designed it with her in mind.
It was ridiculous, of course.
But this place suited her tastes perfectly.
For the first time, she felt at home somewhere.
She walked with ease, feeling more comfortable here than in the Bilton estate, where angels and deities loomed from every corner.
“Welcome home.”
A man with gentle eyes and an easygoing demeanor greeted them, approaching politely.
“This is my butler, Emmet. Emmet, this is my fiancée, Angela Bilton.”
At Kalian’s introduction, Angela gave a slight nod and reached out her hand.
But the moment she remembered it was stained with dried blood, she started to withdraw it.
Emmet, however, took her hand with both of his and kissed the air just above her bloodied knuckles.
His actions, considerate enough not to make a lady feel self-conscious, made Angela blink in surprise.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you. Welcome to the Florence estate.”
His grand welcome was met with a simple nod from Angela.
And yet, that was enough to make Emmet smile even more.
“You must wash up first. I’ve already prepared warm bathwater and fresh clothes. These two maids, Joa and Hilda, will be attending to you while you stay here. Please treat them as your own.”
Emmet explained kindly.
“Once you’ve bathed, they will escort you to your room. The bedding has been changed, and the room has been properly aired out. You should find it quite comfortable. If there’s anything you need, please don’t hesitate to let us know. We will take care of it immediately.”
He had likely only received word of Kalian’s sudden return with his fiancée moments ago.
And yet, everything was already perfectly arranged.
Angela, impressed by Emmet’s efficiency, was about to follow the maids to the bath when—
“You haven’t had dinner yet, have you? If you don’t mind, let’s eat together after you freshen up.”
Kalian extended the invitation.
There was no reason to refuse time spent with Kalian.
Angela nodded.
Kalian then gave Joa and Hilda further instructions.
His voice was too low for Angela to hear, but Hilda let out a cheerful laugh and nodded enthusiastically.
Joa did the same.
—
Angela’s curiosity was soon resolved with ease.
Thanks to Kalian’s maids, who carefully washed the wounds on her body, she quickly learned the reason why.
“His Grace gave us strict instructions to be careful while you bathe so that your wounds wouldn’t sting.”
“He also told us to use as many herbs as needed—he said we could use them freely.”
As they spoke, the maids did exactly that, scattering every last bit of the herbs they had into the large bathtub where Angela was soaking.
The water had already turned so murky from the herbal extracts that Angela frowned slightly.
Noticing her reaction, Joa waved her hands as if to reassure her, then appeared with yet another bundle of herbs.
“It’s fine, it’s fine. His Grace said to use as much as we want. These herbs are expensive, but they help wounds heal faster, so the knights at the estate practically live off them.”
Hilda laughed heartily, adding that even the knights—despite being frequently wounded by swords—used far less than what was being put in the bath now.
“Isn’t that a bit wasteful, then?”
Angela had never been the type to be frugal, nor had she ever needed to be.
And yet, perhaps because it was Kalian’s, the word “wasteful” slipped out of her mouth for the first time.
The moment she said it, she found it amusing.
If they ran out, they could simply buy more—no, even more than what had been used.
In fact, if she searched the Bilton estate, she would likely find an entire storage filled with these herbs.
The Bilton knights had fought countless battles, after all.
And yet, she still found herself speaking in a way that was unlike her.
“If we don’t use enough and your wounds take longer to heal, then that would only make His Grace’s heart ache. Wouldn’t that be the greater waste?”
Perhaps she had spoken just to hear that answer.
“…As if he’d actually be upset.”
Angela tried to feign indifference, staring at the water’s surface where herbs floated instead of flower petals.
Seeing this, the maids began sharing stories about Kalian—things Angela wouldn’t have known while staying at the Florence estate.
“You don’t know how much His Grace worries about you.”
“Every time he leaves the estate, he makes a huge fuss about being informed the moment anything happens to you.”
“That’s right. At this point, you’d think he’d trust us to handle it, but he always makes sure to remind us before he leaves.”
“Oh, and last time, he came back furious—completely unlike himself—holding some strange hair ornament with a bright red feather. He ordered the butler to burn it without leaving a trace. I had no idea what it was, but…”
“Hey!”
Hilda, realizing where Joa’s words were leading, jabbed her in the side to stop her from speaking.
Only after getting elbowed did Joa realize she had been running her mouth. Her face paled, and she quickly lowered her head.
“Oh dear, what was I thinking? I’m so sorry, my lady. I didn’t mean—”
“Keep going.”
“…Pardon?”
Joa hesitantly lifted her head at Angela’s unexpected response.
“I want to hear more. Go on.”
Angela already knew where this story was heading.
She already knew the events surrounding that hair ornament.
But hearing it from Kalian’s perspective made it feel like a completely different story.
So he ordered it to be burned. He was that angry…
Angela still disliked excessive noise, but she didn’t want to miss the chance to hear more about Kalian.
She listened intently, filing away each story in her mind.
These stories would keep her going.
They would be the air she breathed during her sleepless nights at the Bilton estate.
—
Dinner was served in Kalian’s room.
As Angela glanced around, she thought about how his room suited him perfectly—it made no effort to flaunt wealth.
“What are you looking at? There’s nothing special about this room.”
Kalian spoke to her back, seeing that she wasn’t coming to the table where their meal was set.
Angela knew his words were meant to urge her to sit down, but instead of obeying immediately, she wandered a few more steps before heading toward the window.
From there, she could see the estate’s garden—just like how her bedroom window overlooked the garden at the Bilton estate.
But unlike hers, this one looked like a labyrinth.
Had they designed it that way to confuse any intruders?
As she was lost in such trivial thoughts—
“—!”
Before she even realized it, Kalian had approached and grabbed her arm, swiftly turning her around.
Angela, now facing him with her back to the window, looked up at him.
Perhaps it was because she had been looking at the maze-like garden, but—
Kalian himself seemed as if he were lost in an inescapable labyrinth.
His expression looked like that of a man wandering with no way out.
His cheeks seemed slightly pale.
“Your food will get cold.”
Yet, aside from that, nothing else could be read from his expression.
Still, since it seemed like he truly wanted her to eat, Angela simply answered, “Alright,” and stepped away from the window.
As she moved toward the table, Kalian followed behind her.
His actions resembled that of a worried parent, watching over a child to ensure they didn’t stumble near water.
She had no idea why he was acting this way, but—
She didn’t dislike it.
Without looking anywhere else, Angela quietly took her seat at the table where dinner was waiting.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ✧: *. ꕥ .* :✧ﾟ. ───
