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SERIES: What Remains in the Damaged Place
CHAPTER: What Remains in the Damaged Place 41
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41
A burn meant the injury was not a light one.
She had thought it was just a matter of spilling tea, but it seemed Lirette had poured something scalding hot on herself.
Valderion stroked the tip of a black eyebrow before turning to the head maid.
“What is she doing now?”
“Her shift was nearly over, so I sent her back to her quarters for the day.”
“Bring her to my bedchamber.”
Valderion gave the quiet command and left his office. He headed to his bedchamber first to wait, and a short while later, a knock sounded before the door opened cautiously.
Lirette entered, her expression impassive.
Perhaps she had been resting in her quarters, as the silver hair she usually kept tied back without a single stray strand now flowed down calmly.
“You called for me.”
The sky, just beginning to set, was still bright.
She seemed somewhat bewildered to be summoned when the pitch-black night, their usual time for meeting, had not yet arrived.
“Sit.”
The place Valderion indicated was the table where she usually ate her sandwiches.
“Put your hands up.”
He spoke the moment Lirette sat in the chair.
“Why?”
“Just do it.”
Lirette hesitated before placing her hands on the table.
They were wrapped tightly in bandages.
Valderion stared at them for a moment before untying the knot on one of the bandages. As it unwound, the wound must have been disturbed, as Lirette’s features twitched faintly.
When her wrist was revealed a moment later, the sight was ghastly.
Several watery blisters had formed on her fine, smooth skin, which was now swollen and puffy. The head maid’s words that she would have difficulty using her hands for a few days echoed in his ears.
“……See, I asked you, didn’t I?”
Valderion, who had been carefully inspecting the injury, lifted his head at her words. Lirette was not meeting his gaze. She stared stubbornly down at her own hand, as if nursing some deep-seated grudge.
“If she was all right.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I suppose when you heard I had taken a woman as a mistress, you became curious from the standpoint of a fiancée.”
Her tone was strangely sullen.
She always had a hint of it, but today it was somehow more blatant. Valderion, keenly aware of the shift, raised an eyebrow.
“So, are you saying what happened to your hand is my fault?”
When he retorted with equal bluntness, Lirette finally raised her face.
“Do you think you bear no responsibility at all?”
“I wonder. In fact, I’m more curious as to why you’ve chosen me as the one responsible.”
“Because if you hadn’t summoned me to your bedchamber to attend to you at night, there would have been no reason for such rumors to spread.”
“By that logic, the problem started when you insisted on playing the part of a maid, a job you’re not even suited for.”
Lirette seethed at his unyielding stubbornness. Her nerves, already frayed from the pain in her hand, did nothing to hide her fuming anger.
Deciding this was a pointless, childish squabble, Valderion rose from his seat.
“Come here.”
He walked toward the bed and turned over the hourglass as he spoke.
Realizing what he intended, Lirette habitually glanced out the window. Night had not yet fallen, and the crimson glow of the sunset poured densely into the bedchamber.
Everything about the scenery today was too intense.
Lirette stared at the dazzling scene, unmoving, before shaking her head.
“I don’t want to today.”
A short laugh escaped his lips at her brief protest.
“Right. Paralysis on top of a hand swollen and blistered from a burn. That would be quite a sight.”
Frowning at his gibe, Lirette stood up from the chair, gathered the unwound bandage, and approached the door.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“I told you I don’t want to today.”
“I don’t recall agreeing to that.”
“I won’t get paralysis from skipping just once.”
“And if you skip this time, will you comply meekly the next? No, once will become twice, and twice will become three times. The you I know is more than capable of evading me in such a way.”
He approached Lirette with brisk steps, his sharp demeanor on full display.
Lirette’s eyes, reflecting the crimson waves of the sunset, took him in.
“Do you want to touch me?”
Valderion stopped.
“……What?”
“After touching another woman, you want to touch me again?”
He wore a look of incomprehension.
But Lirette’s gaze did not waver.
The scene she had witnessed earlier replayed in her downcast eyes.
She had been on her way back after receiving treatment from the doctor.
In the garden, bathed in the cozy spring sunlight, she saw a pair, a man and a woman, walking along the path.
It was Valderion and Kamille.
The moment she took in the sight of the two, who looked like a masterpiece painting, Lirette had frozen in place without realizing it.
It was at that same moment that Kamille stumbled.
Valderion’s large hand firmly supported the woman’s slender waist. He then politely offered his hand to help her. It was a gentle gesture, flawless in every way.
Lirette watched without missing a thing as the two walked toward the glass greenhouse.
A strange bitterness spread on the tip of her tongue.
Even Lirette couldn’t pinpoint exactly why she felt that way.
Perhaps it was because it brought back the past.
Because the image of the two of them, which she could only glimpse from her confinement in the annex, was repeating itself before her very eyes.
The past and the present were clearly different times, yet her own situation—still having to witness scenes she shouldn't have to—felt sorrowful.
Or perhaps she felt dejected because, unlike the two of them who were free to act without restriction, she was still bound…….
It was a complex and difficult emotion to define.
In any case, it was firmly not a pleasant one.
Unfortunately, that feeling had lingered until now.
“I don’t.”
“……”
“I don’t want to be touched by a man who has touched another woman.”
She had a premonition that touching him today would be a wretched act that would only remind her of that bitter scene from a little while ago.
And so, she wanted to avoid it.
Valderion had no reaction to the words she had courageously offered. The backlight shattering behind him vexingly obscured his expression.
Lirette didn't bother trying to read him and simply bowed her head. The bandage she held in her hand trailed onto the floor.
“I’ll be taking my leave now.”
She quickened her pace toward the door.
She was just pulling the doorknob.
*Slam!*
An arm shot out from behind her without warning, slamming the slightly ajar door shut.
The hand that cut off her escape was quite fierce.
It grated on a corner of Lirette’s heart in an ugly way. Before she could even glare back at him, a force grabbed her arm and spun her around.
“What are you—!”
Her protest died in her throat because of his unexpected action.
His grip moved in an instant from her upper arm to her wrist. Clasping her wrist, Valderion licked the back of her hand, where the marks of the burn were still vivid.
The air caught in her throat, stealing her voice.
Lirette let out a horrified gasp and slammed her back against the closed door. Even so, the tongue clinging to the back of her hand did not let go.
“Wh-what, ngh.”
A red, wet tongue languidly swept over the area covered in blisters.
Lirette’s lips trembled at the tingling sensation in her fingertips. While the hand he held was clenched excessively tight, the backs of her knees grew progressively weaker.
Her back, leaning against the door, slid down, little by little.
“Hh…!”
Eventually, she collapsed at the bottom of the door as if she had fallen on her rear. She would have rather collapsed like that if it meant shaking him off.
But the more she struggled, the more tenaciously Valderion clung to her.
As if the back of her hand wasn't enough, he pushed Lirette’s index finger into his mouth. The sensation of his tongue deliberately licking its way up each knuckle sent a shiver down her spine.
“Hh, st-stop.”
Lirette’s limbs couldn’t hide their trembling.
An undeniable heat rushed to her face. Every time his sticky tongue enveloped and sucked on her finger, she flinched as if an electric current had passed through her.
He soon released her index finger and took her middle finger instead, his eyes never leaving Lirette’s reaction.
Where they made contact and then separated, thick saliva stretched like a spider’s web.
Finally, like one utterly defeated, Lirette closed her eyes and tilted her head away. But with her vision shrouded in black, the skilled play of the man’s tongue on her fingertips only became more vivid.
The tips of her small toes, hidden inside her shoes, curled of their own accord, and a strange sensation pulsed between her legs.
From the index finger to the pinky.
And the back of her hand, where grotesque blisters had spread.
As Valderion’s tongue roamed at his leisure, he happened to notice that the burns on the parts he had swept over and caressed were slowly healing.
Seeing it with his own eyes, a mix of astonishment and emptiness welled up inside him.
“It even heals wounds. My name, engraved on your body.”
“Hah, hah…”
“What is this? It’s practically deifying the owner of the name. With a Name like this, you could probably save a dying man.”
At the end of his pure admiration, Valderion let out a small, dry laugh.
Lirette’s expression, which he could now see clearly, was somehow dazed.
Her face made him doubt if she had even heard his words.
Her breaths were ragged, and her face was flushed red. It felt as if he could hear the fierce pounding of her heart all the way from where he stood.
No, was this really hers?
Valderion stared at Lirette’s limp face with a persistent gaze.
Then, suddenly, his body leaned forward.
It was not a conscious decision.
Nor was it the conclusion of a thought process.
It was, one might say, an impulse.
A large shadow covered the frail, slender female form that looked as if it might break.
As their lips met, Lirette’s small body flinched, jolting as if struck by a spark.
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