“Care to have a cup of tea?”
Leaving the room, Enrico was reading the newspaper and drinking coffee as if he were at his home.
“…What brings you here this morning?”
“It’s not morning, it’s almost lunchtime.”
“True, but it’s still sudden without any notice.”
“Don’t stand there awkwardly and talk, come and sit down.”
Emilia sighed and sat down across from him. Then he put down the newspaper he was looking at and pushed it towards her.
With his gesture to look at it, she reluctantly picked up the newspaper slowly. There was no need to look at the back page. The large article on the front page caught her eye.
<Director’s Secret Ballerina at Avalliantee Opera House >
There was an article about Director Carlo and Eva.
Several reporters who had been waiting on tip-offs had witnessed the affair between the two and the theater director, upon learning of it, had immediately notified them of their dismissal, saying that they would apply the rules without exception and that they were tarnishing the theater’s reputation.
If the theater director had not come and handed over the dismissal notice yesterday, it was clear that it would not have been wrapped up as neatly as in the article.
Emilia put down the newspaper quietly, her face lost in thought, and then placed it on the table.
“This situation must have been more interesting than the audition yesterday.”
“It was surprising, but did you come here because of this?”
“No. Let’s go out to eat.”
“Outside? The two of us?”
“Then let’s eat, the two of us. Is there anyone else you want to invite?”
Enrico acted as if he was suggesting something obvious. Since when did they go out to eat together? It was already uncomfortable enough to dine together at the mansion occasionally; she couldn’t understand why he was doing this.
A few days ago, he had hinted at controlling her in other ways besides just performing on stage. Maybe this was part of that. Emilia’s expression tightened slightly.
“Duke, I want to live quietly. If I go out with you, it’s natural that I’ll attract attention, and what should I do about the articles?”
“Ah- Are you worried about the sponsorship?”
“Yes.”
“But when I asked about sponsorships, I heard that a meal is the basic thing. Am I wrong?”
Enrico raised the corners of his mouth softly. It was a knowing smile that she knew he wasn’t wrong.
Emilia bit her lower lip slightly. He stared at her, her face troubled and unable to say anything.
“But why do you want to hide the sponsorship?”
“…Isn’t that better for you too, Your Grace? That’s why there haven’t been any rumors so far.”
“Not exactly. I kept it quiet because it was a short-term contract. But you’re different.”
A strange light flashed in his eyes, which had been devoid of emotion. He was probably referring to the long-term contract, but his words felt oddly significant. Meeting his gaze, she eventually looked away uncomfortably.
“Don’t avoid them.”
“What?”
“I said, don’t avoid my eyes like that. It makes me feel dirty.”
His tone was cold and domineering.
“Are you going to start controlling my eyes now too?”
She looked back at him and muttered as if sighing. It would be better if he just kept being cold and distant. His constant back-and-forth between affection and indifference made her feel like she was walking through a dark swamp, constantly on edge.
“Of course. During the contract period, you belong to me.”
“I wonder when my contract changed like that.”
“Who knows? Even I’m not sure.”
“I guess it could change again in a few days.”
“Yes. I’ll change it if I lose interest.”
These were words she was now familiar with. Emilia closed her mouth silently. She knew that if she stayed here, she would have to do whatever he wanted anyway. It might be better to just give up and get it over with as quickly as possible.
He stood up first. He put his coat back on, which he had taken off earlier, and gestured for her to follow him.
“Don’t worry about being exposed. We’re going to a private place. I don’t want to be on unnecessary headlines either.”
And with that final word, he walked out. Emilia sighed heavily.
The Perrin Street on a Sunday afternoon was surprisingly quiet. It was a boutique street frequented by the upper class, so many people were either starting their afternoon activities or enjoying late-night parties on weekends. Fortunately, there weren’t many people walking the streets at this time.
Emilia looked out the window and felt a sense of relief wash over her.
Even though she’d be wearing a hood, she knew that if anyone saw her walking into a restaurant with Enrico, she would be all over the front page of the newspapers. But when he said they were going to a private place, she figured he would take care of it.
‘Why didn’t he just say that from the beginning? Sigh…’
She knew she couldn’t escape, so she tried to endure the welling up of emotions, but it was futile. If she responded calmly, he would provoke her, and if she reacted, he would brush it off as nothing.
Emilia thought that Enrico was just as good as Giorgio at twisting people’s words, and she stared at the white iron gate that was getting closer and closer. The employee who opened the gate checked the reservation, then looked at the carriage crest, and swung the door open wide.
‘Meeting this man even on my day off.’
A carriage stood in front of a white building with a gold-lettered sign that read “Maison Grand.”
It was a famous upscale restaurant that even the upper class had trouble making reservations for, and it was often featured in the newspapers, so everyone knew about it. But for Emilia right now, none of that mattered.
All she cared about was getting there without running into anyone.
As Emilia was putting on her hood, she accidentally caught Enrico’s eye, who was sitting across from her. He had been staring at her the whole time, but he just met her gaze with an expressionless face.
There was something about his eyes that made her want to look away. They were like they could see right through her, and Emilia couldn’t help but avoid his gaze.
Soon, there was a knock on the carriage door, and it opened. Enrico got up slowly from his seat. Emilia waited for him to walk past her before she got up and stood in front of the door.
A hand in a black leather glove was extended in front of Emilia. After a moment’s hesitation, her pale hand slowly rested on top of the glove.
“Why aren’t you wearing gloves?”
One of Enrico’s eyebrows rose.
“Oh… I forgot.”
“Careless.”
The sound of his tongue clicking conveyed clear disapproval.
“What if your hands get chapped in the cold?”
It was hard to take it as genuine concern when it was Enrico speaking. Emilia’s eyes darted around, unsure of how to respond.
“Your skin seems delicate, reddening with just a bit of pressure. It looks vulnerable to dryness too.”
“…I’ll make sure to wear them next time.”
“Take care of yourself. It’s the part of your body that you use the most, as much as your feet on stage, isn’t it?”
Of course, that was his typical artistic perspective. Emilia gave a bitter smile.
If he was this concerned about her hands, she could only imagine how he’d react to seeing her feet, marred by calluses and blisters from dancing.
‘Maybe I should show him my feet after the contract ends.’
To Emilia, her feet were a testament to her hard work, something she was proud of rather than ashamed. But she knew Enrico would likely be repulsed, making him an ill-suited match for her in many ways.
“Why are you smiling?”
“Oh… It’s just that someone might misunderstand and think you’re actually worried about me. When in fact, that’s not true.”
She murmured, covering her mouth as if embarrassed.
“Why not? It is true.”
Sure, he was worried about his possession. Emilia stifled a laugh and responded a beat later.
“…Is that so.”
“Yes. Where else would you find a sponsor who takes such good care of you? Providing everything you need, ensuring your condition is optimal, and even overlooking your annoying traits.”
As they walked down an empty corridor guided by a staff member, his low voice made her worry that the staff might overhear. The last comment made her frown slightly.
Noticing her reaction, Enrico’s lips curled lazily.
“I tolerate your tantrums because you give me something in return.”
Had he really been tolerant? All she remembered was him trying to control her. It was frustrating.
“But failing to meet expectations and only running your mouth? I hate those who can’t understand their place.”
Each word felt humiliating. Even more frightening was the thought of him turning his back on her the moment she disappointed him, as if warning her in advance.
All she had left was ballet, the only thing she was confident in, yet in reality, ballet was just a means to an end. It was a bitter pill to swallow.
Emilia lowered her head slightly, trying to hide her reddening face.
“Oh, there’s no need for you to bow your head. You can hold it high. You’re still satisfying my eyes.”
She wasn’t ignorant enough not to know the coolness hidden in his affectionate tone. Emilia nodded slowly and pressed her lips tightly together.
* * * *
If you want to support the Translator, Translator’s Ko-Fi:
