Before she could hear anything, Enrico’s hand moved faster. He lifted her by the waist and pulled her back. Emilia, instead of trying to escape his grasp, simply stayed in his arms, watching the bookshelf move.
The remaining books on the shelves disappeared as the back panel of the bookshelf opened, and the now empty bookshelf creaked as it was pushed back into the room. It opened like a door, and Emilia stared at it blankly.
“The structure is unique.”
Enrico murmured as he set her down. He had seen many secret rooms, but it was the first time he had seen one opened like this, so it was new.
“Ah, this is the place. I went down these stairs!”
Behind the bookshelf was a small space for one person to enter, and there was a staircase leading down to the basement. Enrico took the lamp that was in the room and led the way.
Emilia quickly followed him, watching his broad back as he descended without hesitation.
“……There’s a lot to inspect.”
When they reached the basement, they found a space about the same size as the study. It was filled with dozens of boxes and various wrapped items.
Emilia slowly looked around and walked toward a box that seemed familiar.
‘Oh, right. He jokingly told me that he hid treasures here and that I should come find them later.’
Seeing the box brought back memories she thought she had forgotten. Her father had said that the box, covered in her childhood scribbles, was like a treasure chest. Emilia slowly opened the lid of the box.
And there it was, what she had been looking for all along: her father’s last letter.
* * *
Enrico raised an eyebrow at the unpleasant, damp smell as he looked at Emilia’s small back. She had been sitting in front of some dirty box, and she had been in that position for a while.
Suddenly, her delicate shoulders began to shake. Enrico, who had been watching from behind, quickly moved toward her.
“Sniff, sob…”
Emilia was crying sorrowfully, her clear tears falling one by one. She looked so sad that she couldn’t even let out proper sobs occasionally.
It was a sight he couldn’t understand. Ever since he had known her, this woman had shown an unusually blind devotion to her family. It was hard for him to distinguish among the jumble of emotions—too mixed to attribute solely to guilt.
He had used her family as leverage against her, but the woman who took the bait seemed incredibly foolish. Why sacrifice herself for those who were already dead? The question that had persisted since they first made their contract was nearing its conclusion.
She had the ability to live as she pleased, yet she chose to suffer like this. From the perspective of someone who was using her, it was quite interesting. It was fascinating how someone could be so different from him.
But the more he watched her, the more frustrating her actions became.
‘What’s so special about family?’
Since he couldn’t comprehend familial love, Emilia Este seemed like an unsolvable mystery to him. If only she could show that blind devotion to him, her current situation would have been much better.
“Are they really that precious to you?”
Her soft crying was interrupted by his low voice, causing her to momentarily catch her breath.
“…What?”
Her trembling voice was filled with confusion. Their eyes met as she turned to look at him.
She couldn’t see his expression. Emilia slowly straightened her bent knees and stood up. He caught her arm as she staggered momentarily.
“Why is your family so precious?”
He repeated the question as if he needed an answer. His eyes looked especially dark, perhaps because they were in a place where no light entered.
“They’re already dead. Why are you so attached to them?”
Emilia wiped her tears slowly, not taking her eyes off him. She suspected he was being sarcastic as usual, but his unusual demeanor made her agitated emotions calm down.
He had a face that genuinely didn’t understand. Although he used the deceased as leverage, he couldn’t fathom why she was swayed by it.
Emilia looked at him anew. The man who always acted arrogant and emotionless now seemed different. She recalled how he loved art more than anyone, but rather than cherishing it, he exhibited an excessive possessiveness, almost obsessively.
“…Because I love them.”
“What?”
“They were my only family and they loved me more than anyone.”
Enrico’s elegant eyebrows narrowed. His reaction suggested he found the word “love” itself strange. It was as if he was silently asking, “What on earth does that even mean?”
Perhaps it wasn’t that he lacked emotions but that he didn’t know them because he had never received them.
TL/N: IDK WHY, BUT I’M DEFINITELY TEARING UP A BIT–
A thought suddenly crossed her mind. The rumor that Enrico never appeared in public after the death of the previous king and queen during his childhood.
Judging by the way Alessandro and Enrico interacted, the royal family didn’t seem to have good relationships.
The longer Emilia remained silent, the more intently Enrico stared at her wet lips. The ticking of his watch seemed to urge her.
Emilia looked up at him with her eyebrows drawn down. Her tear-soaked eyelashes trembled.
“No matter what I say, you probably won’t understand.”
Her expression was troubled, as if she didn’t know how to explain it. Enrico tilted his head slightly to the side. His presence felt like it was gradually tightening around her, and eventually, she lowered her eyes.
“If you ever have someone precious to you, Your Grace, you will understand.”
“…Don’t avoid me.”
Enrico whispered in a low, husky voice. For some reason, when Emilia looked away, it felt like a string holding him snapped.
Someone precious? It was a foreign concept to him. It didn’t resonate, nor did it seem necessary, so he didn’t feel the need to pay attention to it. Yet, Emilia’s avoidance of his gaze while saying that irked him, making the veins in his neck stand out.
“……”
At his words, she looked back at him with a confused expression. Her clear eyes, still not dry, reflected only him.
A few seconds of silence flowed quietly, deepening the silence between them. The unpleasant sensation she had felt a moment ago melted away like snow in her eyes, which held only his reflection.
Was it because it was so new? For the first time, the woman who piqued his curiosity was devoting her life to an unfamiliar emotion that he could never understand, so he kept asking questions.
If someone else had done it, he would have simply laughed and dismissed it as foolish. Was it because she did it that it seemed so?
“Um… Duke, could you please let go of my arm? I still need to finish checking.”
Emilia fidgeted her small body in the growing silence, trying to gauge his reaction. As she tried to slip her captured arm free, he noticed that her other hand was carefully clutching the letter to prevent it from being crumpled.
Something precious. Something he didn’t have.
Enrico’s dry eyes flickered.
He had once thought of her as a pathetic woman. Even if she despised him for exploiting the death of her cherished parents, she tried not to show it.
She was a woman who restrained her emotions and focused only on doing her best in her given task. Maybe she was even more stubbornly fanatic than him, who was obsessed over art.
What if an unwavering, straightforward affection were directed at him?
As he thought about it, a chill ran down his spine. He couldn’t quite tell if it was the unpleasant feeling that gave him the chills, or if it was something else.
Lost in thought, Enrico’s grip loosened. Not missing the opportunity, Emilia slipped away quietly.
“I think I need to check here until late. Please go up and rest first.”
Even in this strange atmosphere, Enrico’s lips slightly stiffened at her actions, which seemed to suggest that all she could think about was sending him away, as if there was nothing else but her family.
He had a strange urge. Even though he currently had Emilia, he felt like he wanted to have her completely. How could he get those eyes to look at him? He wanted to know exactly where that chill he had just felt came from.
Without looking at her, he silently watched her fold the letter carefully and put it in her pocket before opening his mouth.
“What kind of letter is it?”
If he didn’t know his impulse, he could at least find out about that precious thing. He gestured towards the pocket where the letter was.
“Ah…”
She blinked for a moment, as if she hadn’t expected him to be interested.
“I’ve come this far, so shouldn’t I know too?”
“…It’s a letter my father left behind.”
He knew that much. He was just curious about what was written in it.
He narrowed his eyes, wondering if he should just ask her to hand over the letter.
“I guess my parents were worried that what they were doing might harm me.”
Fortunately, she spoke before he could. He relaxed his expression and listened to her quietly.
* * * *
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