Even right after moving to New York, his condition hadn’t been this serious. Taking medication once every few days had been sufficient, and there had been almost no problem with smelling things.
But now he had to take medication diligently every morning, and as a side effect, all the smells of the world were distancing themselves from him day by day.
The smell of the focaccia Matteo made, the smell of grass and trees embedded in the wind touching his face when walking in the park, the smell of paper rising from the pages of his cherished books. All of it was being erased from Elian’s world.
It’s okay.
When I find a partner later, everything will be fine.
No need to think anxiously.
Listening to the melody flowing from the turntable, Elian pulled himself together.
When he returned to the bathroom, the bathtub had been filled appropriately in the meantime. He removed his robe and laid his body down in the warm bathtub. The water temperature was perfect and the bubbles were abundant, but he couldn’t enjoy the scent of the bath salts.
Even Debussy’s melody, seemingly dripping drop by drop like water droplets, couldn’t console his inner self.
He tried taking a sip of wine. As expected, he felt neither taste nor flavor. It was as if this illness was taking away not just his sense of smell but his vitality itself. The world was slowly losing color and turning to black and white.
Each time he confirmed that he couldn’t feel taste or smell, Elian was afraid. Though he showed it to no one, he was afraid.
Stretching his arm outside the bathtub, he poured the red, odorless and tasteless wine onto the bathroom floor. The red liquid reminiscent of blood flowed away, drawing a thin line on the tiles.
Lorenz, who had left the listening room full of vigor as if to issue a duel challenge, couldn’t head directly to his destination even after going downstairs and paced the corridor for a while.
An employee coming out of Lucas’s room with a laundry basket greeted Lorenz with a puzzled look. It was because Lorenz himself hardly ever wandered somewhere in the house without a specific purpose.
Lorenz nodded lightly and pretended to look out at the street through the window at the end of the corridor. Lorenz Lockhart standing in the corridor looking out the window? That was equally a puzzling sight.
After the employee completely disappeared down the stairs, Lorenz walked to the end of the corridor, passing his father’s room and Lucas’s room in turn.
There was no response even after he knocked and waited briefly.
“This is Lorenz Lockhart. Let’s talk for a moment.”
He knocked once more. Still, there was no reaction from beyond the door.
The moment his patience ran out and he was about to pound on the door with his fist, he finally heard signs of life.
Did he fall asleep or something… Just as he was about to bend down and listen, the door opened.
“Why are you so late to the door…!”
Lorenz, who was about to press him about why he came out so sluggishly when he was inside, couldn’t finish his words.
Completely wet hair and a cleanly washed face.
Elian Bellotti stood before him in a shower robe.
As if he’d come out of the bathroom in a hurry with just a robe thrown on without properly drying off, water droplets were still beaded on his cheeks and nape. The signs of haste were evident.
Elian, who had been looking up at Lorenz who was only staring without finishing his words, asked with a puzzled face after confirming the visitor.
“What is it?”
“The knocking… didn’t you hear it.”
Lorenz’s voice was considerably softened from the beginning. The thought of pressing him had scattered without a trace.
“I heard it. I was bathing.”
“So it seems.”
At Lorenz’s gaze glancing down his entire body, Elian hastily fastened his robe more thoroughly.
Lorenz snorted.
Well, since his face is like this, it’s no wonder he’s on guard.
Then suddenly Lorenz noticed that music was leaking out from the space inside the door. He listened to the barely audible volume.
“Debussy?”
Lorenz’s eyes narrowed and his eyebrows twitched. It was definitely a tone with a dismissive nuance.
“Is there some problem?”
“Whose performance is it? The tempo is too loose. Even though it’s a Debussy piece, it’s excessively sentimental. And the sound quality level… are you listening on a turntable? It seems like a very crude product at that. The needle is scratching up the entire piece…”
“Mr. Lockhart.”
“……”
At Elian’s firm voice, Lorenz stopped the evaluations he’d been pouring out.
“Didn’t you come here because you had business?”
Business. Right, of course he had business.
“Surely your business isn’t to insult my taste?”
Looking down at Elian’s face displaying displeasure, Lorenz realized he’d made another mistake. He’d come to extend a hand of reconciliation in his own way, but instead scratched his nerves even more.
But he hadn’t intended to insult him.
A beautiful young man with platinum blonde hair and Debussy’s “Rêverie”? He’d only thought it was an excessively sentimental combination. Moreover, listening to music on a substandard player was itself an insult to the composer, performer, and furthermore to music itself. He had merely pointed out that fact from the dimension of refinement.
Then suddenly Lorenz noticed.
A very pleasant fragrance was wafting from Elian Bellotti.
A pleasant fragrance. It was a sensation he’d barely felt recently. His sense of smell had become sensitive because his pheromone response levels kept jumping all over. Moreover, even when it wasn’t such a time, there were almost no moments when he felt artificial smells as fragrances.
Without realizing it, Lorenz’s upper body leaned toward Elian. Conversely, Elian’s upper body curved backward.
“Please state your business for visiting… or did something happen to Lucas?”
A worried look appeared on Elian’s face. Lorenz shook his head.
“No, it’s not that.”
“Then…”
Recalling Margaret’s advice to invite him sincerely, Lorenz brought up his business in the softest tone he could currently manage.
“Dinner, let’s have it together. Come down to the dining room at 8.”
However, that too seemed insufficient for Elian Bellotti.
“Is this also an order as my employer?”
“Why do you take issue with everything…!”
“That’s what I want to say. Dinner is not included in my job duties. You have no right to notify me to come down.”
Lorenz exhaled a sigh toward the ceiling to control his emotions. Then he looked back at Elian, who was glaring resentfully at him. He put strength in his lips and repeated the same content in a different form.
“Fine, I’ll correct it. I’d like to have dinner together. Could you come to the dining room at 8, Mr. Bellotti?”
A face that was unspeakably humiliating.
Elian almost let out an absurd laugh at Lorenz’s expression. If he was going to make such a humiliated expression, he shouldn’t do it at all. Did words get through to him or not?
In any case, since he had shown effort, Elian decided to treat him politely as well.
“I appreciate the invitation, but I’ll decline.”
He politely conveyed his refusal.
“You’re… refusing?”
As if he’d heard unbelievable news, Lorenz’s face contorted. However, Elian was calm.
“I’m quite tired, you see. Today I plan to leisurely enjoy my bath and rest early. While appreciating Debussy on my cheap turntable.”
“But I…”
I, the owner, am proposing dinner, and you’re refusing for just such a reason.
“My work hours for today are over, and I don’t want to spend my time after work uncomfortably. Then.”
Elian, who had stepped back, closed the door without delay.
Lorenz, left in front of the door, couldn’t even snort for a while. He just blinked, unable to accept the situation with both hands on his waist.
It was a moment later that he erupted in aimless anger in front of the tightly closed door.
He doesn’t want to spend his time after work uncomfortably?
Is he saying that facing me is uncomfortable?
A person made a gesture of reconciliation for once, and he ignores it like this?
This definitely wasn’t a date request. Yet his face burned as if he’d asked for a date and been rejected. Not to brag, but he’d never been rejected even once until now.
He tried to knock on the door to call him out again.
This time as an ’employer’s order.’ To come down to the dining room by 8 no matter what. With the intention of issuing an ultimatum.
However, for some reason he couldn’t do it. Like a boy who couldn’t muster courage in the end for fear of being rejected, he only glared at the closed door while biting his lips.
The lingering scent that had wafted from Elian Bellotti was still drifting through the corridor. The wet blonde hair that seemed like he’d just washed his hair and come out.
This is the first time an experience like this scent not being bothersome. What kind of shampoo is it anyway.
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