Chapter 18
“If it’s a kiss with a woman he truly didn’t like, then yes, it could feel unpleasant.”
“What if it’s not that?”
Lilien knew there was no way Cairn would not like her that much—not enough to find a kiss with her unbearable. If that were the case, he never would’ve said things like, “I’ll do anything for you.”
“Well… I suppose it’s possible for a man to dislike kissing a woman if he has a particularly unusual disposition. For example, if he doesn’t experience s****l desire at all?”
An asexual, she realized.
She remembered reading about it in a medical journal once. After it was published, many people dismissed it as nonsense, but Lilien had found it fascinating.
After all, love wasn’t something that bent to your will, and no one could force their heart to turn toward someone if it simply wouldn’t.
Lilien understood that well enough herself—her feelings certainly never went the way she wanted them to.
* * *
As soon as her promised dance with Victor was over, Lilien hurried back to the de Bermore estate. Unlike her usual self, she sprinted straight to her room the moment she stepped out of the carriage, calling for Matilda as she ran up the stairs.
“Matilda! Ink! I need ink!”
“Yes, miss!”
Ignoring the distant reply from the parlor, Lilien rushed to her desk and closed her eyes, trying to remember how it had felt.
At first, she’d been nervous, then her chest had swelled with a soft, cloudlike feeling, and at the end, everything became damp and—
She dipped her quill into what little ink remained.
‘Was it because my sense of touch had grown sharper than my sight or hearing? No bell rang. The mental thrill of trespassing into someone else’s most private space came first.’
She barely noticed the black ink staining her hand.
‘But it wasn’t all about mental connection. The very best part was the feeling of him slowly brushing over the tender membrane inside me.’
“Miss, here’s your ink.”
Matilda said as she entered the room, but Lilien was already finishing her last sentence. Matilda, used to her mistress losing herself completely in her writing, just placed the ink on the desk and quietly waited.
‘As my lips grew wet, a warm sensation spread through my chest. What I couldn’t understand was how a place I’d never even touched could become so slick. They say a first kiss is a sacred act—so why did part of my body feel so… dirty? I couldn’t understand it.’
It was a bit indecent, but it was her honest feeling.
A truth she could never share with Cairn—her real, secret thoughts.
“Done.”
She blew quickly to dry the ink, folded the page neatly, and locked it away in her desk.
The flickering candlelight shone softly over Lilien’s face.
“Oh, right! Wait a sec, Matilda!”
Something she’d forgotten came to mind. She opened the drawer above and handed Matilda a small envelope.
“Your pay for this month.”
Matilda’s hand trembled as she accepted it.
“Miss, you really don’t have to worry if it’s a little late…”
“Don’t be silly. You earned this. I don’t want to be a cruel employer.”
“Miss, if you’ll forgive me for asking, but… is the Count’s business still struggling?”
As more tenants left for the city, the income from their lands was drying up. The kingdom’s major industries were shifting from agriculture to trade, and though the Count had finally invested in railroads using land as collateral, it hadn’t been easy.
On top of that, maintaining the family’s various houses in different cities was a huge expense.
“Yeah. But I’m sure it’ll work out. I believe in Father.”
Lilien gave Matilda a reassuring smile, though she didn’t feel nearly as optimistic herself.
What made it even harder was that no one outside the family had any idea about the Bermore household’s precarious finances.
‘Lilien, marry while I can still provide a dowry for you.’
The more her father pushed, the more she realized just how desperate things had become.
But marrying just because of money was the last thing she wanted.
If she married and the family fell apart, her in-laws would treat her like a burden. She’d rather hide her status and work as a governess in the countryside than live under that kind of scrutiny.
“Matilda, I’ll make sure you always get your pay. Don’t worry.”
That’s why Lilien clung so desperately to her writing.
What had started as a way to escape her controlling father’s suffocating grasp had become her only means of survival.
“I’ll figure something out. I promise.”
One by one, the staff were being let go for any excuse at all—it was clear her father’s finances had reached their limit.
Money.
Lilien needed money.
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