Chapter 16 - Chapter 16

Chapter 16

The bedroom was beginning to fill with the cool light of dawn.

Ruwellin Rashiane sat on the edge of the bed, gazing down silently at Rozniaundefineds face.

She was fast asleep, not a single thread of cloth covering her body. Her transparently white, almost translucent skin was covered with the marks he had left behind.

Ruwellin looked at those marks with satisfaction, then slowly reached out and gently brushed Rozniaundefineds pinkish-red hair.

The soft texture slipping through his fingers was like silk thread. Ruwellin smiled faintly and tried to lower his hand. But then, Roznia, still half-asleep, whimpered and grabbed his hand.

"......!"

"Huuuum..."

In that moment, Ruwellin flinched heavily, as if struck by lightning. Roznia didnundefinedt stop at grabbing his hand; she pulled it into her embrace, held it tightly, and rubbed her cheek against it.

Ruwellin sat frozen in place, unable to move. His gaze was completely captivated by Roznia. She was holding his hand tightly, her lips moving as if chewing something, and she looked so utterly lovable.

Ruwellin murmured, as if sighing.

"Ha, really..."

With his other hand, the one not caught, he endlessly stroked her cheek. As if she liked it, Roznia smiled and rubbed her cheek against his hand.

It felt like when a wary cat finally allows a humanundefineds touch. Ruwellinundefineds heart ached, and he sighed.

"Really, you shake me up every time."

"Uum..."

"Even while youundefinedre sleeping like this..."

"Ah, Iundefinedm hungry..."

"Still?"

Ruwellin asked with a chuckle. Roznia frowned and answered.

"Ueung..."

"After eating so much of mine."

"Give me more..."

Her sleep-talking was so adorable that a smile naturally formed on his lips. Ruwellin felt like he was going crazy, wanting to hug her tightly again and shower kisses all over her body.

But doing such things to a sleeping person would make him look like a scoundrel. He tried to suppress the desire surging within him.

He thought he should just go to the kitchen and make a bunch of Rozniaundefineds favorite foods. As he thought that and tried to get up, Roznia held his hand tightly, not letting go, and mumbled.

"Adrian..."

"......"

"Brother..."

Adrian.

The moment he heard that name, his blood ran cold.

Ruwellin looked at Roznia with a hardened expression.

Her cheeks tinted a soft pink, her eyelashes similar to her hair color but slightly darker with a hint of gold, her small moving lips – all were maddeningly pretty. Lovable. Enough to want to devour her in one go.

But from those pretty lips, with that defenseless face, came the name of another man, not him.

Of course, it was her brotherundefineds name. But that fact didnundefinedt matter much to Ruwellin Rashiane.

What mattered was that he was not her first priority, that someone closer to her existed who was not him.

The person currently closer to her was her brother, Adrian Hyll.

"......"

A cool smile formed on Ruwellinundefineds pale lips.

He did not know the years Roznia had lived and grown up in. But Adrian Hyll did. That fact was very irritating. He knew a Roznia that I do not, intimately...

If possible, he wanted to steal every last memory from Adrian Hyll.

undefinedI want to move it all over to me.undefined

From your beginning, to your unknown end, everything, by my side, I wish it were mine.

A familiar pain gouged his heart. Ruwellin looked at Roznia with a pained expression.

She was fast asleep with an angelic face. Unaware of what dangerous thoughts were running through the mind of the man looking at her now.

Roznia, endlessly lovable.

The more his heart felt like it would burst with anxiety, the more Ruwellin wanted to touch her. He wanted to hug her tightly and go deep inside her warm core.

Doing that made him feel, if only for that moment, that he possessed her. But after Roznia tired herself out and fell asleep, when he saw her sleeping face, doubt would wash over him.

Ruwellin did not want to possess Roznia only physically. He had never entertained such garbage thoughts from the start. He wanted her everything: her heart, her soul, the entire time she would live from now on.

When was it that this desire, hardly different from madness, this emotion almost embarrassing to call love, had taken root in the deep, dark places of his heart?

Ruwellin tried to remember. If he had to pinpoint the beginning, it was quite a long time ago. Much earlier than the palace banquet four years ago.

Early summer, when the lilacs of the Rashiane Dukeundefineds castle bloomed beautifully and sweetly.

That day, at thirteen years old, the always upright and perfect boy, Ruwellin Rashiane, attempted a deviation driven by a single impulse kindled in his heart. Right on that very day.

* * *

The young duke was well-known for his upright and righteous character.

Wherever he went, everyone praised him. The young Ruwellin Rashiane. The pitiful orphan who lost his parents as soon as he saw the light of the world and grew up alone. With a hint of sympathy.

"A birthday gift from Count Andrico, Your Grace."

"......"

So, as his birthday, May 25th, approached, the gifts and letters that flew in without fail every year were one expression of that sympathy.

Ruwellin, though slightly annoyed, silently received and read the letters. It was only polite to read and reply. At least to those who held a title of nobility.

The letters, as always, were filled with praise for the young Duke of Rashianeundefineds amazing achievements, his impeccable and upright character, and his increasingly radiant appearance.

And in a very aristocratic tone, sufficiently not to offend, there were also words of concern for the young duke.

Most of the letters Ruwellin received were like this. The nobles who had been close to the previous Duke and Duchess were so worried about the young Ruwellin that they didnundefinedt know what to do.

Honestly, Ruwellin was tired of all of it, but he knew that the hearts of those worried about him were not bad. So he always replied politely.

"Here, my reply."

Ruwellin, having written a reply to Count Andricoundefineds letter neatly without a single mistake, sealed the letter and handed it to his butler.

The butler, as always with a respectful attitude, received the letter and quietly withdrew.

With the butler gone and all the servants sent out, the study was filled only with the faint sound of his own breathing. A peaceful silence.

Ruwellin found that familiar silence comfortable and pleasant, but at the same time, he was also tired of it.

Having never once shown such feelings, people only thought of him as a very kind and quiet child.

But that wasnundefinedt actually true. The Ruwellin Rashiane he thought of himself was slightly different from othersundefined expectations.

undefinedIundefinedm sick of this.undefined

Truth be told, Ruwellin was sick of the birthday congratulations and gifts. He was also sick of the grand banquet held every year and the memorial service for his deceased parents that followed.

He was also sick of everyoneundefineds arbitrary assumption that the poor child, whose parents died on the very day he was born, must unconsciously carry a sense of guilt.

That guilt, namely, that he was born and his parents died.

undefinedItundefineds all nonsense.undefined

Although he showed gratitude and courtesy towards his deceased parents, having never even seen their faces, it was hard for Ruwellin to feel affectionate emotions.

Parents who left a child early were strangers. People seemed to wish for Ruwellin Rashiane to be a kind, good boy who missed parents whose voices he had never even heard, but unfortunately, Ruwellin was not like that. That was merely peopleundefineds delusion.

This May 25th, they would probably look at me again with sad eyes.

Ruwellin smiled a crooked smile, one he had never shown in front of anyone.

Truthfully, when May 25th approached, rather than preparing for the banquet and memorial service, he wanted to go on a trip somewhere. It felt like doing so would free him from all these tiresome things.

undefinedBut that is my delusion.undefined

He habitually thought that, but then, like a serpentundefineds whisper, a question followed.

Was it truly a delusion?

"......"

Ruwellin leaned back in his study chair and dreamed of a single dayundefineds deviation.

A beautiful beach, the sparkling waves of the sea, the shining sun, a garden somewhere filled not with the familiar lilacs but with other flowers.

He wanted to go somewhere, anywhere unknown.

But he knew it was completely insane. If he disappeared, the Dukeundefineds castle would be turned upside down.

Even if he left a letter and disappeared, those people would suspect he had been kidnapped. But Ruwellin wanted to run away, even if it meant causing all that trouble.

He wanted to leave this tiresomely repetitive, comfortable daily life and taste a sense of liberation he had never felt before.

The taste of a dangerous and precarious deviation, of things he had never been permitted, of immature acts like a foolish boy.

He wanted to commit them.

undefinedAnyway.undefined

Anyway, even if he disappeared for a few days, everything would return to its place. As long as he enjoyed a brief deviation and came back.

There was still time until May 25th, and being away for three days at most would probably be fine.

Even if they found out he ran away out of boredom, no one could dare blame the Duke of Rashiane. He was the master of this castle, of its vast territories, of everyone who served him.

undefinedEven I, sometimes.undefined

For the first time in his life, Ruwellin Rashiane, at thirteen years old, was driven by impulse and rose from his seat. Having decided to commit a deviation, rather than fear, his heart pounded with anticipation.

Ruwellin quickly and secretly completed all preparations. Then, leaving behind only a single letter, he ran away from the Dukeundefineds castle.

The Rashiane Dukeundefineds castle was turned upside down an hour later.