Caught off guard by the sudden situation, he was helplessly dragged along, his face filled with surprise. Thud. His upper body leaned forward, and his strong arms instinctively grasped the railing behind her.
Their faces were now alarmingly close. As Edmund gazed at her small face, with its delicate and well-defined features, his heart plummeted to his toes.
Entranced by Etricia’s clear, unwavering eyes, he felt as if they were the only two people left in the world.
“Little brother.”
Then, a voice, moist and gentle like misty rain, whispered into his ear.
His burning eyes naturally flickered downward.
Just below her slightly upturned nose were smooth, full lips.
It had never affected him before, but now, her fingertips grazing his earlobe felt unbearably seductive. The veins in his hands, gripping the railing, tensed visibly.
A warning siren seemed to be blaring in his head.
He closed his eyes and swallowed the heat surging within him, suppressing it with a quiet groan. The slight tremor beneath his eyes betrayed his waning patience.
Barely managing to hold back his impulse, he let out a voice thick with resignation.
“Why… are you doing this?”
“Just because… your eyes are so beautiful. They look like glass beads.”
Why didn’t she realize that her own eyes were even more stunning? He had told her so before, but apparently, that wasn’t enough.
He wanted to pull away from her immediately. If he didn’t, his body might betray him. The wind carried a crisp mix of grapefruit and alcohol, enveloping him completely.
It was unmistakably her scent. Edmund let out a faint groan, thinking he had reached his limit and attempted to step back.
“It’s not a flaw, Edmund.”
His movement halted. His eyelids fluttered, trembling as they opened and closed.
“What did you just say…?”
“Being afraid of the dark isn’t a flaw; it’s a wound.” Her hand, which had been cradling his sharp jawline, subtly brushed against his cheek.
“You’ve lived too harshly to realize that. I…”
Etricia blinked sluggishly, sleepiness overtaking her, and her body tilted forward. The hand that had been gently holding his face slipped down.
“I wish… you would include yourself among the things you want to protect.”
With that faint murmur, her body lost strength.
Edmund instinctively wrapped his arms around her waist as she collapsed.
Thud. Her jacket, which had been draped over her shoulders, slipped and fell onto the marble floor.
Just like his heart.
His stunned gaze stared into the empty space before him. After a long moment, he slowly lowered his head until his hair rested against the nape of her neck.
The scent of alcohol-laced grapefruit still clung to her. Drawn by that deep, intoxicating fragrance, his arms and face instinctively burrowed closer to Etricia.
This drunkard… He buried his face completely against her neck, murmuring in a low, husky voice—frustrated, resentful, yet burning with something he couldn’t suppress.
You never fail to unearth this feeling, do you? Perhaps, in the end, it wasn’t the sandcastle that would crumble first, but his own resolve.
Lunox had entered Viscount Dien’s estate a short while ago, following Verita.
The servants either passed by with puzzled glances or blushed shyly, but none of them stopped him.
Verita led Lunox to Antra’s bedroom and introduced him. Antra, seated with her arms resting on the bed and her gaze lost in space, remained silent.
Lunox perched himself by the window and observed Antra, who sat directly across from him.
Verita anxiously glanced between them before excusing herself due to urgent matters.
Lunox clicked his tongue lightly. She was foolish but had sharp instincts—she had noticed that he was exuding an unusual chill today.
Bang. The door shut behind her. Lunox crossed his arms and studied Antra with curiosity.
The woman sitting there, looking as if she hadn’t had a proper meal in days, was none other than the Viscountess of Dien, whom Verita had persistently chased after.
Her disheveled hair and ragged clothing made her look no better than a commoner who had lost everything to gambling.
To think that this ragged-looking woman was the vain and materialistic Viscountess of Dien. A person could truly fall apart overnight.
When Verita had wept in fear, saying the Viscountess had lost her mind, Lunox had scoffed. But perhaps it wasn’t an exaggeration after all.
Raising a dark eyebrow, Lunox tilted his head. He ran a hand over his smooth chin while locking eyes with Antra.
“A pleasure to meet you, madam.”
He smiled habitually, narrowing his eyes slightly. His lips stretched just enough to reveal a neat row of white teeth—an expression meticulously practiced and adored by noblewomen.
But Antra showed no reaction. She merely shifted her gaze past Lunox’s shoulder, staring out the window.
His forced smile faded, replaced by a quiet chuckle. Then, his eyes gleamed with intrigue.
Her gaze was so lifeless that even his appearance failed to startle her. In other words, she was too consumed by darkness to perceive the world around her.
Lunox’s smirk deepened, this time with a genuine, eerie amusement. Unlike his earlier artificial grin, this was his true smile—chillingly sinister.
From his coat, he produced a small box. He deliberately clicked it open and knelt before Antra, flashing another smile.
“Madam, do you know what this is?”
Antra’s dull eyes drifted toward the box. Inside was a purification stone, cloudy in color.
It was a rare artifact, typically found only in museums, and one that all citizens were required to report upon discovery. Yet, even this failed to stir her emotions.
She turned her empty gaze back to the window. But Lunox remained unfazed.
“I heard from Verita, madam. You suffered a grave injustice at the banquet. You fled in disgrace and have been locked away in this estate ever since.”
Antra’s eyes twitched in irritation, lifting her gaze sharply.
For the first time, emotion flickered in her previously lifeless eyes.
They burned with rage, as if demanding to know why she had to endure humiliation, only to now be mocked by some lowly stranger.
Lunox shivered with pleasure at the bitterness in her eyes. He leaned in slightly, his lips curling into a smirk.
“Your daughter-in-law ran away, didn’t she? Don’t you want to kill her?”
Her chapped lips barely parted.
“Get lost, you wretched thing.”
Lunox chuckled dryly. He gently placed the box into her hands.
“You’d be surprised if you knew what’s inside this purification stone. Even more so if you realized that you could activate it.”
“…What?”
“If it meant killing your runaway daughter-in-law, what would you say, madam?”
Antra’s slumped body slowly straightened, her eyes regaining focus.
Lunox placed the stone firmly in her grasp.
Deep, festering resentment takes root, bears fruit, and becomes a force. When that force merges with a soul filled with desperate yearning, extraordinary phenomena unfold.
Sometimes, the world defies explanation.
“In exchange, give me your soul, madam.”
Lunox tilted his head, his shadowed face curving into a smile—brighter and more innocent than ever before.
The carriage rattled as it climbed the steep hill.
Ugh. I shut my eyes tightly and swallowed hard as nausea rose up. The hangover from the day before hadn’t completely gone away.
Edmund, sitting across from me with his legs crossed elegantly, had his arms folded and his eyes closed. Then he slowly opened them.
He stared at me with cold eyes and suddenly snatched the papers from my hand.
“You’ll collapse like that. Try to get some rest.”
Anyone hearing this would think I had been working really hard. Feeling a bit guilty, I gave a small smile and shook my head.
“No, if I don’t review this now, Baron Totair will scold me. Please give it back.”
But he didn’t return the papers. Instead, he stared at me as if trying to see through me.
“What is it?”
“…Do you really not remember anything from yesterday?”
“I told you, I don’t remember.”
I gave an awkward laugh and snatched the papers back from him. Then I focused on flattening the slightly crumpled documents.
Even as I did, I could feel his persistent gaze clinging to me.
“Drunkard.”
I jumped in surprise at the voice that suddenly dropped above my head. It sounded unusually sharp, which startled me even more.
I lifted my chin and looked straight at him. Edmund was frowning deeply, leaning on the armrest, clearly annoyed.
“What did you just say?”
“What do you mean?”
“You just insulted me. I have good ears, you know?”
“Seems your brain isn’t as good.”
What is with this guy?
This morning, while I was distracted drinking a hangover cure, Edmund had casually asked if I remembered anything from the day before.
I said I had forgotten everything, and he just nodded with no expression and left. I thought that was the end of it…
But now, with his continued persistence, I bit my lip and shut my eyes tightly.
I’m weak with alcohol. So I really shouldn’t remember anything.
‘Then why do I remember?’
