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Chapter : 15
A Late-Night Walk
“Shall we take a walk?”
When Alferil nodded as if entranced by the question, a faint smile crossed Terencio’s lips. Just as she was about to widen her eyes, doubting what she’d just seen, he frowned and spoke.
“Fasten your coat first. Your hands are like ice. Do you have any intention at all of taking care of your health?”
Startled out of habit by his sharp tone, Alferil ducked her head and wrapped herself in the coat he had taken off for her. In the meantime, the young master bent sideways toward the sack Triden had left behind.
From his long, elegant fingers emerged a thick cigar and a matchbox. Alferil, now feeling a little warmer as she smoothed the hem of the coat draped over her, rolled her blue eyes.
“If you’re going to scold me to quit even that, don’t bother.”
Terencio tossed out the words as he cut the tip off the cigar with a sharp little knife. It seemed he’d finally noticed her gaze—so obvious it would have been harder not to.
But it was a misunderstanding. After biting her tongue in hesitation, Alferil finally parted her full lips.
“That’s not it. I was wondering if I might have just one of those too.”
“Absolutely not. There are many ways to torment a person, I see.”
His unexpectedly firm voice followed. Without a moment’s hesitation, he was about to discard the cigar, and she hurriedly stopped him. Had she spoken out of turn?
“I’m serious. I’ve always wondered why people keep that bitter smoke in their mouths.”
“……”
“And besides, it must be very expensive. I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“Hold it.”
As if he couldn’t bear to listen any longer, the cigar in his hand was transferred to hers. Looking thoroughly unconvinced, the young master lit a match and stepped closer to Alferil.
A shadow fell across the high bridge of his nose. The cigar still resting with her was soon guided upward by his hand. The small flame evenly burned the freshly cut end.
A pungent smoke crept up and brushed her senses. The once-clean cross-section of the cigar blackened, and Terencio’s lips, which had been set firm, parted slightly. His deep voice flowed out.
“Draw.”
Like a hunting dog obeying its master’s command, absurdly enough her body reacted before her mind. She leaned forward and took the cigar held in Terencio’s hand into her mouth. His gaze lingered on her hollowed cheeks.
“Like that. Yes. Don’t swallow it.”
As he added the instruction, Terencio slowly rotated the thick cylinder clockwise. The bitter aroma seemed to invade every corner of her body in an instant.
Opening and closing her lips under his gaze made her feel like an ornamental fish trapped in a tank. The sound of the man’s breathing as he leaned in was swallowed, oddly strained.
Before long, his hand withdrew. Alferil awkwardly took over the motions—turning the cigar, pressing it between her lips, taking it away again—and stepped out of the foyer first.
The dampness left behind by long-swept raindrops mingled with a strange freshness in the air.
Terencio approached her, leaning against the mansion’s outer wall, a new cigar in hand. Each time he opened his mouth, thick smoke spilled out. Though it was her first time smoking, strangely she didn’t cough.
“Well?”
At the low question tossed her way, Alferil unconsciously swallowed an unseen smile.
“If you plan to smoke occasionally, I won’t stop you.”
“My curiosity’s still there. My first and last cigarette will remain one shared with you, young master.”
When Alferil turned her gaze away, she saw Terencio looking openly relieved. When their eyes met, perhaps embarrassed at having his feelings exposed, he murmured,
“I like it when you sing. I was just worried I might ruin that voice.”
“You’ve heard me sing?”
“Even though you’ve only been here a few days, you were humming a folk tune, weren’t you?”
That shocking remark was cut off by an even more shocking one.
“Y-you heard that? When?”
“Sometime.”
“My goodness, I made sure no one was around… when on earth?”
“So curious, are you? You’d better pick up the pace with your housekeeping.”
Alferil’s lips parted in surprise. His teasing answer felt cruel.
Feeling oddly frustrated, she quickened her steps first. Patak—patak—the loose soles of her slippers slapped the ground as she passed the young master. It was a rudeness she’d never normally even imagine.
She had started running just to be free of his striking presence for a few seconds—but Terencio closed the distance in a few long strides, without seeming to exert himself at all.
Thus began a strange chase.
When Alferil, who had never really run in her life, sprinted a short distance, Terencio would walk after her with slow, wide steps, guarding her from behind. That became their unspoken rule.
She ran clutching the collar of the oversized coat that wasn’t hers, then stopped again and again. Gradually she felt sweat bead warmly as she gulped for breath.
The man’s low, quiet laughter began to seep into the space that had been filled only with breathing. The tips of her feet, wrapped in thin slippers, tingled as if burned.
No matter how much she ran, the presence behind her wasn’t frightening—if anything, it was reassuring. Suddenly, Alferil turned around, curious about the expression on his face.
“Haah—ah!”
It happened as she twisted her slender ankle to turn. Terencio, startled, grabbed her wrist. Feeling another’s sudden touch, Alferil raised her voice out of habit.
In the sudden silence, their gazes met. Looking clearly flustered, Terencio immediately stepped back with both hands raised.
“Damn it—I thought you were going to fall.”
“Hahaha!”
Still breathing heavily, Alferil suddenly burst into loud laughter. Holding in her breath, she bent at the waist and covered her hiccupping mouth.
She didn’t even know where the laughter had begun. It felt like it had been so long since she’d laughed out loud that she couldn’t remember ever doing so.
As if she’d become a different person all at once, it was hard to control her body. Alferil steadied herself shakily and began to step backward.
“I—I’m sorry. When I’m with you, young master, I feel oddly at ease…”
Before her retreating back could hit something, Terencio’s hand urgently blocked the impact. After a moment of startled silence, seeing her bow her head and laugh again, he muttered helplessly,
“As far as I know, that was just an ordinary cigar.”
“I don’t know either—hic—why I’m like this… haha. W-wait. I’m sorry… I really don’t know—”
“I…”
He had thought she would only laugh over something like this. The place he’d thought was simply a wall shifted after they nearly collided. It was where Terencio’s hand rested.
Without a sound, a smooth handle moved under his hand. Alferil dodged the opening door, her loose hair thudding against Terencio’s solid chest.
For a moment, leaning into him, Alferil stared beyond the opening doorway. It was a glass greenhouse, hidden under dark fabric so she hadn’t recognized it at first. Her long lashes blinked slowly, as if confronting an unbelievable sight.
Spring stood still.
It was as intoxicating as it was frozen—a scene as if an entire season had been preserved intact.
Forgetting even the apology she should have offered upon bumping into him, Alferil stepped out of his broad embrace and walked forward. Pale-hued fresh flowers bloomed luxuriantly in the still, windless interior.
The faint floral scent spreading through the cold night air was beautiful. Terencio, who had been anxiously watching her unresponsive expression, finally lowered his gaze when he saw her face soften.
“I didn’t realize they’d been doing my share this well.”
Not quite grasping his meaning, Alferil turned to him questioningly. “The gardeners of Saint Caléum,” Terencio added casually.
“It’s been ten years, I suppose. It’s been a long time since I came here myself.”
“Why? It’s such a lovely place.”
Touching the petals of the agapanthus blooming most vividly, Alferil replied softly.
“Indeed.”
Answering in a voice that somehow lingered in her thoughts, the man walked slowly, then gestured with his chin. Alferil followed his indication.
An orange rose garden in full bloom. As Alferil smiled faintly at the sight, she noticed—without knowing when—that Terencio now held a pair of garden shears.
“You said you don’t like the mansion. I thought if I brought you a few flowers, you might stop complaining.”
By now, Alferil could recognize without batting an eye the kindness hidden in his brusque tone. Smiling at his gruff, old-man-like attempt to conceal his gentleness, she answered with concern,
“I’m not sure… I’m not very handy, so I don’t feel confident decorating properly.”
“What, should I do everything myself? Stop worrying about pointless things and just choose.”
Coming from the most famous pianist in and out of the kingdom, it was a rather amusing remark. Alferil sank deeper into thought as Terencio’s coaxing voice alternated with her silence.
Their light bickering soon subsided, and eventually they sat together in front of the rose bed.
“Is there one you like? This one?”
“Hmm, no. If we’re going to cut one, I’d prefer a fully grown one.”
Resting her chin in her hand as she looked around, her eyes were caught by the most lush and largest rose. Watching Terencio cut the thorny stem without gloves, Alferil suddenly reacted.
Midway through the motion, as his arm moved toward the vine, her hand caught his thick forearm.
“Ah.”
It was a reflexive action that surprised even herself, and she immediately let go. It wasn’t much of a grip to begin with—his arm had borne far too much over the years to be contained by her hand alone.
In the now-awkward silence, Alferil lowered her brows uncertainly and spoke.
“I was worried the thorns might be sharp… I heard you don’t even heat your bathwater because you’re afraid of burning your hands.”
She kept her gaze lowered, gauging his reaction, when a sudden snort of laughter broke the tension. It came from Terencio, crouched down. Their eyes met across less than an arm’s length.
Seeing Alferil’s flustered look, he seemed determined not to stop laughing. He lifted his right arm, sleeve rolled up, and buried his crooked smile against it. The sound was pleasantly resonant.
The walk back, arms full of pale orange roses, felt strangely short.
It felt like she was floating with every step. Walking side by side with the young master—back of the mansion, foyer, corridor—each footstep felt unreal.
Only when she heard the door close with a thud did Alferil blink and look around. Her room. She couldn’t remember how she’d gotten there at all.
Turning her head, she met her own reflection in the mirror by the bed. A twenty-year-old woman stared back, wearing an unfamiliar expression.
It didn’t feel like her. Setting the bouquet down hesitantly, Alferil used her straight index finger to tug repeatedly at the corner of her mouth.
The coat still draped over her shoulders swayed with the motion. Why hadn’t she returned it? Scolding herself absently, she let the oversized coat slip to the floor.
Her skin, covered only by a thin chemise, was stark white. Moonlight from the window illuminated her body.
And when she saw her exposed shoulder blades, her blood ran cold.
A scar of moderate size crossed the bare woman’s back—a mark left from the day the duke, clumsy with his strength, had personally wielded the rod, for reasons she could no longer remember.
“Th-this… my goodness.”
Sometimes, that single moment becomes the final key that steals away a fragile soul.
No, no. No, no. Alferil murmured as if her breath might stop, sliding down. Only her voice, continuously spilling out, remained calm—making the scene all the more eerie.
‘It’s not like I enjoy this. A peasant girl should know her place if she’s lucky enough to catch her master’s eye…’
The echo of a long-ago hallucination made her ears burn. Swallowing her rising nausea, Alferil let out a small groan.
He saw it. He saw this. Of all people, she had shown this to the duke’s son.
‘I like it when you sing.’
‘Is there one you like?’
In the end, was what she’d been intoxicated by not the unfamiliar smoke nor the dawn flowers, but cheap pity? No—Alferil drew in a heavy breath. She felt ashamed and pathetic.
Had she truly hoped it would remain nothing more than that—mere pity?
