Chapter 55
Chapter 55
“….”
Benedict lifted the cup, his movements elegant and restrained. He took a slow sip, the unique flavor filling his mouth. His eyebrow twitched almost imperceptibly. She couldn’t have known how to brew tea before; she must have learned it here. She learns quickly, surprisingly.
He deliberately placed the cup back on the saucer with a clink. The woman startled, her gaze snapping to him, her nervousness evident. Benedict remained silent, well aware of how his usual impassive expression appeared to others. Sure enough, Hilde squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them, speaking with a newfound resolve. “Should… should I make it again?”
“Well. What do you think?” His counter-question was born of a cruel impulse. She had a face that often made him want to torment her. Like now. Hilde glanced between the barely-touched tea and him, then answered in a trembling voice, “I… I don’t know…”
“Then drink it.”
“Yes?”
“Drink it.”
Flustered and unsure what to do, she finally stammered, “How can I drink Master’s tea…?”
“Drink.”
The final word was a command, a firm threat that he would not tolerate any further delay. Finally realizing she couldn’t avoid the situation, Hilde knelt on the floor before the table. He watched as her slender, pale fingers curled around the handle of the cup, her lips parting slightly before the cup touched them, the gently cooled tea disappearing between her reddened lips.
“How is it?”
Hilde hesitated, then answered cautiously, “The aroma is fragrant… but the taste is bitter…”
“And?”
“M-Master, I don’t know much about tea.”
Unable to bear the continued questioning, she looked up at him as if pleading for help, only to further provoke his cruel streak.
“Is that so?” Benedict smiled faintly, tapping the teacup. “Then drink more.”
***
Hilde was scared. Her master was unpredictable. Just when she thought the atmosphere had softened, he would turn cold again without warning. Did I brew the tea that badly? She didn’t know much about tea. She’d tasted it a few times while practicing, but she couldn’t distinguish a good brew from a bad one.
“What are you doing? Drink more.”
“Master…”
“Do you not want to?”
Hilde shook her head. She couldn’t refuse him. She had a near certain premonition that if she did, he would become far, far more frightening than he had been in the bathroom earlier.
“I’ll drink it.”
She brought the tea to her lips again. The bitter, astringent taste. And the fragrant, fruity aroma. It was the same as before. What should I do…? He would ask again, but she had already described the only taste she could perceive. She couldn’t lie and make up a different flavor. Tears welled in Hilde’s eyes. She didn’t want to cry, but today, she felt inexplicably overwhelmed with sadness. It felt like she was being cruelly tormented. Yet, he didn’t seem to be enjoying it. She was the only one foolishly losing control of her emotions. She blinked rapidly, trying to clear the brimming tears from her eyes.
“Who said you could cry?”
Her chin was lifted. He had lowered himself before her, his face now close to hers. Her tear-blurred vision made it difficult to read his expression, but she could feel his gaze fixed on her face, intensely scrutinizing, as if searching every inch of her.
“Are you that upset about drinking some tea?”
“N-No…”
“Then?”
“I…hic… I don’t know the taste.”
“Ah.” He let out a short sigh, murmuring, “She doesn’t know the taste…”
Then he reached out and lightly brushed his fingertips across her forehead. “Why doesn’t my slave know?” His fingers traced the line of her eyebrows, down her nose and cheeks, then gently caressed her tear-filled eyes, carefully and meticulously, as if assessing something. “It’s so clear.”
Hilde felt his strange touch but couldn’t bring herself to tell him to stop. “Hmm? I can tell with just a small taste.” His voice lowered, almost sinister, his gaze deepening. An inexplicable tension held her captive.
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