Chapter 53
1. A Gift
It took no more than the span of a single blink to return from Evelia Island to the Duke of Brumfield’s estate.
By carriage, the journey would have taken an entire week. Yet she merely closed her eyes once, and when she opened them again, the all-too-familiar bedroom greeted her.
Evelyn decided not to dwell on it anymore. The Duke of Brumfield was not a man who could be explained by common sense. To begin with, anyone who had died and come back to life three times was no longer human.
That was Calix Brumfield. Her “husband.”
Across the long dining table, Evelyn stared quietly at Calix, who hadn’t taken his eyes off her for a single moment.
A face worthy of the centerpiece in a masterpiece. Black hair that swept in elegant waves. Eyes as blue as the open sky.
He looked so impossibly perfect that he could have been mistaken for a work of art. And Evelyn was so utterly sick of looking at him that anger welled up inside her.
“Why? Aren’t you going to eat any more?”
His gentle voice reached her as she set down her spoon.
Evelyn said nothing.
His unwavering gaze remained fixed on her.
As always, the vast dining table was laden with an extravagant feast prepared for the Duke and Duchess alone. Candlelight flickered dangerously atop golden candlesticks, each one a masterpiece wrought by a master craftsman.
“Eve?”
A mist that had no business existing indoors began to seep slowly through the dining hall.
An icy chill crept up from the floor, so unnervingly cold that every hair on her body stood on end. Evelyn instinctively curled her toes and let out a weary sigh.
“…Haah.”
For someone who had clawed her way through life with sheer stubbornness, the existence of something she could neither fight nor understand was enough to drain away her will to live.
Evelia Locke — the infamous assassin who had sworn to survive no matter what, if only to spite the world — had long since vanished without a trace.
In her place remained only Evelyn Dalebury… No. Evelyn Brumfield, Duchess of Brumfield, wearing the shell of a noblewoman.
Was this how that foolish child from the old tales had felt? The one who tasted the food of the underworld and was never able to return to the world above again?
“I’ve lost my appetite.”
The moment the cold words left her lips, the mist dispersed. Instead, the man’s gaze settled on her with quiet persistence.
Only the two of them remained seated at the enormous dining table. It was absurdly large, leaving enough empty space between them to seat three grown men.
Evelyn supposed that was the one thing she liked about it. At least she didn’t have to sit any closer to the breathtakingly beautiful man.
With obvious reluctance, she picked her spoon up again. His gaze followed the movement of her hand.
The feeling of being watched was so suffocating, so revolting, that Evelyn finally snapped.
“For fxck’s sake, I’m going to throw up!”
Clang!
The spoon she hurled struck the plate with a sharp, ringing crash.
Evelyn shot to her feet. She strode away, practically kicking aside the cumbersome skirts of the dress that tangled around her legs.
Living the life of a noblewoman. A life she never asked for. Goddamn it.
“Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!”
Pretending not to notice his gaze lingering on her back, she stormed out of the dining hall.
Laura, who had been waiting outside, widened her eyes in alarm and hurried over to her.
“My lady!”
Not wanting to vent her anger on an innocent maid, Evelyn clenched her jaw and kept walking.
“Um, my lady…”
Laura struggled to keep up with Evelyn’s brisk pace, slightly out of breath as she finally managed to speak.
“Are you returning to your chambers, mistress? Then I’ll have the bath prepared first—”
“No need.”
“But, my lady… the Master will be looking for you soon.”
Evelyn stopped in her tracks. Laura, panting from having hurried after her, came to a halt as well and smiled.
“I suppose a bath is in order, after all?”
A pale mist began to drift through the mansion’s grand corridor, its soaring ceilings and lavish decor gradually swallowed by the haze. It rolled lazily through the hallway, like the thick fog of a deep forest, almost as if it were mocking her.
“You hardly ate anything, so I’ll have something prepared that you can eat while you’re in the bath. You always end up completely exhausted after spending the night with the Master!”
Evelyn fell silent, her green eyes blazing like fire. Surrounded by the mist, Laura clearly had no idea what she was even saying.
Yes, a powerless maid like her was as much a victim as Evelyn herself.
The one to blame was…
“This goddamn fog.”
The Duke of Brumfield.
Discussion
0 CommentsReactions
No comments yet.