“I didn’t know you locked your door when sleeping.”
I stroked my tired eyes as I let Rilke in.
Whether he’d washed, Rilke’s hair was wet and he looked neat. I’d gone to bed early because I was tired for some reason, but Rilke had pounded on the locked door like crazy regardless.
And now, as if that never happened, he sat across from me with a meek expression.
The maid Rilke brought set down teacups with a stiff face. One cup in front of me, one cup in front of Rilke.
“I’m a guest too. Are you not even going to light a lamp?”
“An impolite guest.”
I gestured at his hands, reddened from pounding on the door.
Rilke laughed lightly. After the maid left, he got to the point.
“What did you talk about earlier with His Highness Prince Benedict’s attendants?”
The Prince’s attendants were competent.
They accepted Rilke’s not-bad proposal and didn’t delay a single moment until moving the Prince to the Count’s house. Count Leroy’s skill in immediately calming down the unusually agitated Mikhail and demanding the essentials was indeed worthy of his reputation.
And they didn’t miss me in my wretched state either.
“I didn’t say anything.”
Three different people came three separate times asking if I’d witnessed anything in particular. Rilke was concerned about that.
“I can’t believe you. I need to be able to trust you.”
He lifted his head as if remembering.
“Come to think of it, I didn’t ask.”
“What?”
“On your birthday. On the terrace, you definitely pushed me, didn’t you?”
I almost swallowed my tea.
I barely managed to compose myself and when I looked at Rilke, he had a face that said he was terribly hurt.
“I only wanted you to understand my feelings. You can make excuses if you want to… Though I suppose you have nothing to say. You must have inwardly disliked me.”
I thought he didn’t know.
“No. Rilke, no.”
I was sincere. I didn’t want to be on bad terms with him.
Not yet—Rilke hadn’t done anything to me yet.
“I don’t know why you feel that way.”
“You said it well. You say no, but I’ve always been ‘feeling’ that way. If you just say no, where should I go to resolve the frustration about my emotions? I’m clearly ‘feeling’ it.”
Rilke smiled bitterly.
“The subjugation force encouragement meeting was like that too. You watched my difficulty. If there hadn’t been a helping hand, you would have been in big trouble and more, young master.”
I would have told the truth, he said.
The teacup in my hand felt heavy. I just looked down at the pale mint-colored tea.
“You’re afraid I might tell Mikhail, tell everyone the truth, aren’t you?”
“No.”
Isn’t that you?
No, the real Rilke might not be scared at all. He sometimes does really reckless things.
As if it doesn’t matter if everything burns up and even he himself burns.
“You hate me.”
Isn’t that you too? He was always difficult.
“No.”
“You didn’t say anything? I can’t believe you. You always make things difficult for me, my lord!”
I avoided Rilke’s gaze.
“Are you going to say no again? Will you tell His Highness the Prince?”
“……”
“Don’t tell him.”
“……”
“Don’t, tell him.”
I let out a sigh.
“Fine. I’ll do that.”
I swallowed another sigh that was about to come out.
“So stop crying.”
Only then did Rilke’s crying stop.
Sitting across from me, he wiped away his tears as if to show off.
After a little time passed, I could feel his passionate breathing subside. When I raised my averted gaze, Rilke was leaning back comfortably on the sofa. With his still wet face, he looked around the interior this way and that.
“It’s much better than my room.”
Not long ago, it had all been replaced with furniture Mikhail personally selected. Originally they had been in my new room in the main building. When I couldn’t stay there, Mikhail had them moved, saying it would be a waste of the furniture.
“Well, you’ll need to invite guests and such now too, young master.”
The room Rilke was using now was my childhood room.
We shared the same room, the same view outside the window, and we could have talked about that for a while. But neither Rilke nor I had any interest in such topics.
“Don’t you need a maid? Mikhail hyung-nim is very worried.”
Rilke across from me made an exaggeratedly pleasant face. Tears still remained, making that expression feel discordant.
“You saw earlier, right? I brought one of my maids.”
That happened today too.
Rilke stood up abruptly, and I set down the teacup I hadn’t drunk from at all. Rilke trudged to the door and opened the closed door like a theater actor introducing the next act.
“Her name is Deina.”
The maid who had brought tea earlier was still waiting.
The moment I looked closely at the face of the maid called Deina, the unclear face in my memory became distinct.
Not interesting. It felt like rereading a novel whose ending I already knew.
Rilke, pressing his reddened eyes, put the period on the novel.
“She has skillful hands. So you’ll have an enjoyable time.”
I set down the teacup I’d only been holding until then.
How fortunate.
Since returning to the past, I had resolved not to consume anything you gave me at all.
Only the maid and I remained in the closed room.
Fortunately, Deina seemed flustered. Taking advantage of her unfocused eyes as she undressed, I lowered the teacup under the table.
The newly changed carpet, soft as moss, silently got wet in the shadows.
I felt heat anew from my lips where the tea had touched. I thought with my throbbing head that I would have been in real trouble if I’d swallowed it carelessly.
Actually, I don’t remember this night at all.
“Just go.”
Because when I came to my senses, it was two days later. Thinking of that day, I told the maid.
“Do you really think you need to write invitations or prepare for a ball in the middle of the night?”
“……”
“I’m too tired for that.”
Go, I said once more. Originally, what was supposed to happen next was never a good memory for her either.
“Young master.”
She called me. It was a strange intonation, as if calling tentatively.
I looked up at her, and she looked down at me.
“Just go.”
Deina persisted.
Before I knew it, she had approached. I pushed her hand away. Anxiously observing me, Deina kept reaching out her hand. Even though all the drugs had already soaked into the carpet at my feet.
With a hardened face, Deina removed another layer of clothing.
I turned away from her in her thin slip. I was dumbfounded.
Though I couldn’t be certain since I had no memory of the past, it became as clear as Deina’s face I’d confirmed again. Both then and now, Deina was clearly a perpetrator to me. Whatever circumstances there were.
“Go. Leave for now, and tomorrow tell Rilke you did as he wanted.”
When I showed I’d noticed since there seemed to be no progress, Deina’s face turned haggard.
“N-no, young master! I can’t leave!”
The eyes in her lead-colored face became resolute.
Right, she must have had her own circumstances. Future, family, whatever it was that was important.
“Lord Rilke said… Lord Rilke said you would want me, young master… I…”
But even if she’d truly been threatened, it was clear she’d come here to put me, who had nothing to do with it, in a predicament.
A long tug-of-war continued. Deina even knelt, and I pushed her away again. But I couldn’t become any harsher than that.
I couldn’t call anyone or leave the room.
“You actually want me too, don’t you, young master?”
Soon she keenly noticed the limits of my refusal.
You’ll be satisfied, she whispered as she approached.
“—Don’t,”
My vision darkened.
Deina pressed me down and laid me on the bed.
Small hands that burrowed under my top without warning immediately tried to touch my chest.
Though I had no memory of that night, I found it unpleasant that the other person was trying to treat me like an omega. Grabbing her wrist, I desperately tried to analyze the reason for my dulled actions.
Below disheveled hair was a face pale as death. I pushed away her hand. The small hand approached again, and beyond it I could see her exposed white nape. I recalled the face I’d pulled from pale water a few hours ago.
Up close, Deina’s hair was reddish-brown.
“Rather—”
Would it become clearer if I turned on the light? I grabbed her wrist.
“—Let’s just sleep.”
I pulled. A soft body was embraced.
“Why?”
“……”
“That’s not okay?”
When I whispered in agreement, Deina’s body stiffened instead.
“But only sleeping. If you do anything improper, I really will throw you out.”
“B-but, Lord Rilke will notice.”
I took off my pajama top.
My body, which had been severely abused all day, complained of pain. Ignoring it, I released my pheromones.
Hup, Deina swallowed her breath. It should be enough since it was an amount even she, neither alpha nor omega, could feel.
“This should do it.”
I made Deina, who had stiffened like a wooden plank, turn her back. I lay down, embracing her from behind. Her long hair tickled my nose tip. It smelled of mild toner.
Even when I leaned my forehead slightly against her back, the maid had no reaction. Whether her body temperature was originally high, she was just surprisingly hot.
Suddenly, I thought it had been too long since I’d touched human warmth.
I also recalled the cold body temperature that had been in my arms a few hours ago.
“……”
I’d decided to live the same way. I got what I wanted, but today I was a bit exhausted. Exhausted, just before falling asleep, I thought it really didn’t matter if Deina did as she pleased with me. I loosened the strength in the arm that held her.
I wished it would be a year later when I woke from sleep.
I fell into a deep sleep as if diving underwater.
