FWTR Chapter 53

Chapter 53: Unfamiliar Gaze

Uncertain whether a lighter or darker shade would be better, Estelle kept applying and wiping off her lipstick. She also tried braiding part of her hair and letting it fall over her shoulder, but it made her look too childish, so she undid it and swept it to one side instead.

When she finally glanced at the clock, she realized an hour had already passed. Panicking, she rushed out of the room.

‘Did I keep him waiting too long…? What if he left?’

Her anxiety had been for nothing. Michael was still there, sitting on a bench with his eyes closed.

‘Was he sleeping? What if he’s upset?’

Feeling uneasy, Estelle approached him. Sensing her presence, Michael slowly opened his eyes, his gaze unfocused and hazy.

“…Estelle?”

It happened in an instant.

Michael suddenly pulled her into his arms, resting his head against her shoulder. Holding her tightly, he rubbed his forehead against her.

Estelle froze, unable to push him away. Her heart, which had been calm, began to pound.

“…That’s strange. Whenever you come to me like this, you never smell like soap… But today, you do.”

“…Your Highness.”

“Don’t go. I was wrong. I didn’t mean to…”

Michael’s voice, trailing off with lingering sorrow, was thick with longing.

‘He must think he’s dreaming.’

The way he spoke in informal speech, without structure, confirmed it.

A pang of bitterness hit her. He was mistaking her for someone in his dream, apologizing over and over again.

It was frustrating. And it made her curious—what had happened to make him like this?

“…What did you do wrong?”

“I was cruel to you. When I woke up, you weren’t there. We didn’t eat together. And I… I couldn’t protect you.”

“You and…”

There was something else he wanted to say, but he deliberately left it unsaid.

‘Who else does he think he failed to protect?’

More than that, Estelle found it hard to imagine Michael ever being cruel.

The Michael she knew was endlessly kind, gentle, and considerate.

‘He thinks waking up alone and not eating together is a mistake?’

He wasn’t a child—if their schedules didn’t align, it was natural to wake up and eat separately.

‘Why does it sound like he’s talking about another woman?’

A sudden wave of nausea hit her, as if the meal she had earlier was now unsettling her stomach.

But what truly irritated her was the way he kept apologizing.

“Your Highness, please get up.”

She hadn’t meant to sound cold, but her words came out sharper than she intended, even surprising herself.

“…Estelle?”

Wanting to clear things up and have a proper conversation, she gently pushed him away.

“Sorry for making you wait so long. I spilled some perfume and had to wash up.”

She was too embarrassed to admit that she had simply wanted to look good for him, so she hastily made up an excuse.

As Michael slowly nodded, his eyes gradually regained clarity. It seemed he had fully woken up.

“…Did I, by any chance, just say something…?”

“What do you mean? You suddenly hugged me, and I was so startled I didn’t hear anything.”

“…Ah.”

Clearly flustered, Michael took a deep breath and ran a hand over his face.

‘It wasn’t even anything significant. It just sounded like he was talking about someone else, so I didn’t want to tell him.’

Besides, if she mentioned it, he would likely dwell on his guilt.

“My apologies. I have a habit of embracing people when I wake up. I’ll be more careful next time. If I made you uncomfortable…”

That was unexpected.

If he was this apologetic over a simple hug, then how had he been so bold during their last encounter?

Back then, he had kissed her insistently, persistently exploring her lips as if to claim them completely.

Someone who could do that wouldn’t be this flustered over just holding her.

Right now, he seemed like a man desperate not to be hated.

‘It wasn’t even anything inappropriate. Why is he so sorry?’

Smoothing out the wrinkles in her dress, Estelle sat down beside him.

“We’re getting married soon, so what does it matter?”

“…Marriage.”

“So, where is it? The place you wanted to take me?”

Just as Lazvette had done earlier, Estelle effortlessly shifted the conversation’s flow, recalling Michael’s words from before.

“If it’s far, should I have a carriage prepared?”

As Estelle stood up, assuming they needed to take a carriage, Michael shook his head.

“Your Highness?”

“Would you hold my hand for a moment? It only works when there’s physical contact.”

Estelle had no idea what he meant, making it difficult to even guess.

‘Was he simply looking for an excuse to hold hands?’

Cautiously, she placed her hand over his. His fingers were cool to the touch.

“It would be best if you closed your eyes,” he added gently, his lips curving into a faint smile.

‘He’ll explain later…’

Trusting his words, Estelle obediently closed her eyes. In the darkness, she sensed a brief flash of light.

“…You may open them now.”

Following his instruction, Estelle blinked several times, struggling to believe the sight before her.

She wasn’t mistaken.

The garden where the larks had been singing was gone. Instead, she now stood in an opulent indoor space, exuding an air of antiquity.

The hard bench she and Michael had been sitting on had transformed into a plush sofa.

This wasn’t the Winchester estate—every detail around her was completely unfamiliar.

“Your Highness, where are we?”

“This is the castle where we’ll live after we marry. It seems… this is the drawing room.”

She had only closed her eyes for a few seconds.

There was no way they could have traveled to a castle in such a short time.

A deep frown settled on Estelle’s face as she entertained an absurd thought.

“Your Highness… If I’ve somehow lost my mind and I’m hallucinating—”

“You’re not hallucinating, Estelle.”

“Then how is this possible?”

“It’s because of my divine power.”

She had heard before that Michael possessed more divine power than even the Saintess—so much so that the High Priest had knelt before him and bestowed a sacred name.

For some reason, she suddenly grew curious about what his sacred name was.

It was considered impolite to ask, as sacred names were rarely shared with others.

‘But I’ve heard that married couples sometimes tell each other…’

Perhaps after they were wed, she could ask—if she revealed hers first.

Murmuring her own sacred name, “Eve,” under her breath, Estelle found herself looking forward to the day she would learn his.

“I’ve imbued the entire castle with divine power,” Michael explained.

Momentarily lost in thought, Estelle processed his words a beat late.

“…So you’re saying this is possible because the castle is surrounded by divine energy?”

She compared it to mages using teleportation through the Mage Tower.

“Exactly. I see I don’t need to explain further. We could have taken a carriage, but that would have taken too long.”

“This is… the place we’ll live after we marry.”

The space reflected Michael perfectly—calm, unpretentious, and comforting.

“I’ll show you around, Estelle.”

Eager to explore the castle, she followed him out of the drawing room.

The grand hall was vast. The Winchester estate was by no means small, but this was clearly a castle—larger and far more extravagant.

As they ascended the central staircase, Estelle listened attentively to his warm voice.

“To the left is the library, and to the right…”

His steady tone was pleasant to the ears.

Through a glass-paneled door, she caught sight of a grand piano.

Drawn to it, Estelle approached and pressed a few keys.

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

The sound was muffled by the cloth covering the instrument.

‘I was never any good at playing the piano.’

She recalled her tutor, who had taught her violin but eventually gave up on teaching her piano, deeming her hopeless at it.

“It’s difficult,” she admitted.

As she turned away, Michael moved in close, encircling her in his arms.

“…!”

His warm breath grazed the nape of her neck, sending a shiver through her body.

For some reason, her whole body tingled.

Michael pulled off the cloth and reached forward, his fingers gliding over the keys. Despite Estelle standing in front of him, he played effortlessly.

The melody was smooth and elegant.

Through the fabric of his sleeves, the subtle movement of his toned forearms was visible.

“If you’re interested, I could teach you someday,” he offered.

Then, as naturally as he had stepped forward, he withdrew, putting distance between them.

“My piano tutor gave up on me in tears. Are you sure you’re up for the challenge?”

It was meant as a lighthearted joke.

“…Of course,” Michael murmured, his expression suddenly distant.

“I regretted not teaching you when you asked me to.”