=========================================
SERIES: What Remains in the Damaged Place
CHAPTER: What Remains in the Damaged Place 57
=========================================
57
Holding her fast so she couldn't escape, Valderion sucked the rest of it away. He deliberately licked it with his tongue, then contracted the inside of his mouth to make a soft sucking sound.
All the while, he stared intently at Lilette’s face, as if for his own amusement.
Her features crumpled as if she were about to cry, finding it unbearable to endure the shame welling up from within. The shell of her ear, peeking out from between strands of silver hair, flushed a deep red in solidarity.
Finding this amusing, he let out a small laugh, and Lilette glared at him with moist eyes.
After licking everything from his hand, he flopped down onto his back, still holding her. No sooner had he settled beside her, facing the same direction as before, than a thick arm snaked around her waist, caging her in so she couldn't leave without permission.
A moment later, soft, steady breaths came from behind her, as if he truly had been sleepy.
Lilette couldn't quite grasp what had just happened. But her rapidly beating heart and the vivid, pulsing sensation between her legs forced her to replay the recent, risqué act.
The breathing of the man who had put her in this state was perfectly serene.
She found it maddeningly hateful.
She prayed for the week to pass as quickly as possible.
* * *
The hunting competition hosted by Dailan concluded in great success.
But Kamille, upon returning to the mansion, was in a foul mood the entire time.
Trifles from the servants that she would normally overlook grated on her nerves with unusual intensity.
No, was it only that?
She found even the weather, something beyond human control, unbearable to look at. The rather hot and long summer had come to an end with the conclusion of the hunting competition.
As if in step with it, the threshold of autumn had arrived.
The season of fall, with its cool and refreshing breezes, was a season for all to love.
Above all, Kamille detested summer, hating how her skin burned under the hot sun. Therefore, it should have been a welcome change, but her temper remained on edge, as if she had forgotten all joy.
It was because the memory was still vivid.
That wretched memory from the hunting competition…
The celebratory banquet held in honor of the Crown Prince's victory.
During the first day's feast, the Duke of Justitia had excused himself and made a hasty exit, as if something urgent had suddenly come up.
It happened before anyone could stop him.
Even then, Kamille had been fine.
The celebration was scheduled to last for three long days, so she could overlook her fiancé's absence for a short while.
The schedule for such a long banquet was predictable.
From evening until night, everyone would gather in the grand hall to continue their boisterous revelry, and from the following morning until the afternoon before the feast began, they would rest or hold modest tea parties.
With years of experience, Kamille skillfully led the tea parties. Those who gathered frequently brought up the engaged couple, who were finally seen together in one place.
Kamille deftly deflected questions about Valderion, saying they would talk again at the evening banquet.
That was why the Duke of Justitia's absence that evening could not help but be bewildering to her.
The picture so many wished to see.
The scene so many wished to witness.
The failure to produce it weighed on her as a kind of pressure. For her, who had been drilled with her father's doctrine of having to be the best among others, it was inevitable.
‘Not feeling well?’
He might deceive others, but it could not escape Kamille's notice.
As the one who had sent the poisoned food to Lilette, she had known from the start that the Duke's claim of abandoning the hunt midway due to his poor condition was a lie.
And that the time had been spent saving the maid she had harmed.
A bitter taste filled her mouth, as it seemed to show the extent of the Duke's feelings for the maid.
To completely give up a hunting competition to care for a mere woman was a considerable departure from the Duke's character as she knew it.
Thus, on the morning of the final day of the banquet, Kamille went to the private suite where he was staying.
The suite where the Duke stayed was on a different level from the other ordinary guest rooms, as if to prove the special status of ‘Justitia.’
Unlike the other invited guests who were given a single drawing room with an attached bedroom, his quarters were clearly sectioned off by a corridor, as if modeled after a section of the main mansion. Above all, the proud crest of his family was stamped large on the double doors.
In front of it, Kamille had to endure yet another humiliation that was hard to shake off.
The knights guarding the special, private space blocked her path like an iron wall.
‘Entry is forbidden?’
‘Yes. His Grace ordered that no one be permitted entry.’
‘Tell him that Lady Floyden is here.’
‘I apologize.’
Even announcing her name did not open the wall.
Kamille's imagination began to race in an increasingly unpleasant direction. What on earth was he doing in there, to the point of forbidding even her entry…
‘What ailment could be so severe that he hasn't shown his face for two days?’
‘I apologize. I will pass on that you came in person, my lady.’
His attitude, which reduced her to a mere bystander—no, the fact that this action came from the Duke of Justitia, who valued grace and etiquette more than anyone—made it a little harder to bear.
‘My Lady!’
The moment the knights glanced away, Kamille moved her feet quickly and slipped between them.
Several knights swiftly closed in behind her.
‘If you do this, you put us in a difficult position.’
‘Please, return.’
‘Are you suggesting you'll lay a hand on me?’
At Kamille's warning, the knights exchanged troubled glances.
As her sharp words pointed out, forcibly dragging away a noble lady was unthinkable. Therefore, the best course of action for the knights was to coax her into leaving of her own accord.
But Kamille had no intention of doing so.
The sharp click of her heels echoed down the silver-wrought corridor. She quickened her pace, determined to see his handsome face today.
The knights, following behind her, must have decided they could not let it continue, and they quickly moved to block her path.
Kamille twisted her lips at the ploy of blocking her view with their massive bodies.
‘What are you doing? Stand aside.’
‘I apologize. Our orders from His Grace the Duke take precedence.’
‘I am his fiancée. This is a matter I can explain to the Duke myself, so I would appreciate it if you opened the way.’
The knight clasped his hands behind his back and lowered his head.
His attitude, which showed no room for negotiation, dealt a greater blow to Kamille's heart.
An act that made her forget her entire upbringing and station. To be subjected to this by her own fiancé's men—her state of mind was in turmoil.
‘I told you to move…!’
Finally, her delicate voice was just beginning to sharpen.
‘What is this commotion?’
The door to a room off the side of the corridor opened.
The finely stamped Justitia crest disappeared, and in its place appeared the man who embodied the will of that crest.
The knights surrounding Kamille spotted the man and quickly bowed.
It was a respectful demeanor so profound it was almost suffocating.
Among them, Kamille was momentarily stunned.
Valderion was wearing nothing but a silk gown. The fabric was not very thick, and the form of his firm, well-built muscles was clearly visible.
Having only ever seen him dressed to the nines, shining from head to toe, it was a novel sight to see him in such a relaxed state. The novelty of it left her speechless.
Valderion slowly leaned against the doorframe.
His gaze, loosely angled along with his tilted head, landed on Kamille, who stood among the knights.
‘Your Grace.’
Kamille quickly approached him.
‘My Lady, what brings you here?’
At his more lukewarm-than-expected reaction, Kamille's mouth went dry.
‘I couldn't help but come, I was so worried. First yesterday, and now today… you disappeared so suddenly and sent no word of your well-being.’
‘I apologize. I'm afraid I wasn't in any state to do so.’
Lukewarm meant not hot, but not cold either.
Buoyed by his response, Kamille lifted her downcast eyes.
Only then did things she hadn't noticed before gradually come into view.
For instance, the red, raw scratches on his chest, visible through the slightly open gown.
The marks were indeed vivid, as if proof that they had been made not long ago.
Kamille's eyes took on a peculiar glint.
Of course, it could be for a simple reason.
Scratched by a sharp object, perhaps.
But why did they keep looking like a woman's fingernail marks…
There was one reason.
As she drew closer to him, a faint, musky scent brushed her nose.
A subtle, nocturnal scent.
It was the impetus that gave wings to her wretched imagination.
No, was this merely imagination?
Her frozen pupils suddenly shifted.
Her gaze moved behind Valderion.
On the bed, partially visible inside, was someone. Though covered by a blanket, the slender form made it impossible to deny it was a woman.
What cut into Kamille's heart even more chillingly were the marks on the woman's pale skin.
Reddish love marks covered her nape.
She was an adult.
She knew enough about the act of sexual intercourse between a man and a woman.
To Kamille's eyes now, the mottled marks on the woman's neck and the scratches on Valderion's chest felt intrinsically connected.
0 Comments