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Chapter 38
“El.”
From the first floor where he had been waiting, Caron lifted his head at the sound and saw El.
El wore a simple dress, but the delicate lace and embroidery made her look like a woman headed out on a date with her beloved.
“Lord Caron. Did you wait long?”
When she arrived before him, El lifted her head. Caron leaned down slowly and brushed a soft kiss against her lowered hair.
“It felt like I waited a long time. Because I wanted to see you sooner.”
Ah… once, her heart would have been pounding in delight, but now it dropped like a heavy stone in despair.
Who are you seeing in me, Lord Caron?
Is it El Olphne, the baron’s daughter? Or Number Eight, who once stole scraps of meat left behind by beasts in the forest?
It was a question El swallowed down, knowing it would only leave her miserable. A poison she didn’t even realize.
“Let’s go. The festival will begin soon.”
“…Yes.”
Caron, perceptive as always, likely noticed that El’s mood was gloomier than usual.
And yet, he said nothing—almost as if telling her, that’s for you to carry.
She knew. El knew too well that the feelings rising in her were selfish emotions that belonged solely to her.
But that didn’t lessen the pain.
When she sat in the carriage across from him, her heart thudded wildly.
“El. Your eyes might burn me.”
Sensing her gaze, Caron curved his eyes in a smile, teasing her.
But El wasn’t in the state to accept his joke.
“…I’m sorry.”
“I told you not to apologize.”
Her calm apology made Caron’s face harden.
“Still… I was taught that a lowly person staring openly at a great noble is rude.”
At that, Caron grasped her hand.
“El. You are not beneath me.”
Her rough hands, held by his noble ones, still bore the scars of having dug the earth barehanded to bury a friend crushed to death by a carriage.
Scars that would never fade.
She didn’t want to whine, but whenever she looked into Caron’s eyes—eyes like the night sky—she wanted to lean on him, to be greedy.
Even though she knew a mere human could never grasp the heavens no matter how far they reached.
“…But no one else will see me that way.”
“Does it matter what others think?”
“Lord Caron. Do you really believe the people in the slums live that way because their blood is foul and filthy?”
“The environment made them so.”
“And that environment includes the gaze of others. In hell, angels would be mocked as hypocrites who think only themselves pure. Called strange, unusual, wrong.”
“……”
“I don’t have the power to change the Empire’s atmosphere. I know my place better than anyone.”
“El.”
A faint crack crossed Caron’s expression—one he often wore when something displeased him.
El recognized his discomfort. Love was like that.
Just from his eyes, she could tell his feelings, his state of mind, and her chest would tighten unbearably.
“Lord Caron, I wouldn’t dare be greedy. Rest assured.”
“……”
Had she not been taught better, perhaps she might have dreamed of fairytales.
A cinder girl marrying a prince on a white horse.
But the more she learned of society and nobility, the more she realized fairytales were illusions.
A slum girl, granted barony through a duke’s favor—how long could that last?
She would never truly have a place.
El was a survivor. She knew better than anyone that to live, she had to prove her usefulness.
So whatever Caron asked of her, she never refused.
Gaining a subordinate loyal enough to risk their life wasn’t easy even for him.
She didn’t want to be a mistress. She wanted to be a retainer too valuable to discard.
If he told her to walk into danger, she would gladly go.
But…
“Since you’ve favored me, I’ll give my all.”
Leaving for faraway places where she couldn’t see Caron—that hurt. That hurt deeply.
Caron’s sunken eyes stared into her. His dark eyes, like a bottomless abyss, seemed to pierce her very soul.
“Do you know why I can’t tell you everything?”
“…No.”
His low voice filled the carriage. Reading the shift in his tone, El flinched slightly and lowered her gaze.
Then suddenly, his scent filled her senses, and his face was right before hers.
Should I close my eyes? What should I do?
Her mind went white, dizzy.
Close enough that their noses could touch, Caron whispered:
“If I asked you to kiss me now, you’d fall into my arms and offer me your lips, wouldn’t you?”
“……”
He tightened his grip on her hand. El’s hand trembled in his grasp.
“Trembling like this.”
“…This…”
Only then did El realize she was shaking. But it wasn’t out of fear—it was like standing before a god, desperate not to earn His wrath.
Yet Caron would surely see her trembling as a burden—or ignore it altogether.
Either way, it would wound her.
Even she couldn’t control the overwhelming emotions.
Had she ever trembled like this before?
Only once—when she stumbled upon a beautiful painting at a charity exhibition.
“What I want from you is to stay by my side for life. For life. Even if we must crawl through the filth together.”
“……”
Such words could easily be misunderstood.
She knew he only meant it because he had taken her in—yet she couldn’t stop herself from wondering, What if he truly meant it the way the world means it?
With him, even hell would be bearable.
Sometimes Caron underestimated what he had given her.
“Even if the whole world points a sword at me, I need someone who will not let go of my hand.”
“Lord Caron, as I promised, I won’t leave. No matter what.”
El thought of all he had given her.
A home, meals, clothes, books, lessons, dance, noble title, life.
And a name.
She remembered it clearly—the moment Number Eight became El. As if life itself had been breathed into her.
A heavy silence hung between them. She looked carefully at his face, but his eyes remained shadowed.
“Yes. I believe now you won’t leave me. But then—how should I take it, when someone who claims loyalty to me…”
“…!”
His hand touched her shoulder. She froze instinctively.
“…shrinks away just because I come closer?”
He let out a soft, bitter laugh, leaning back. Arms crossed, he looked every bit the arrogant noble.
“El. If you want the truth from me, fix that servile attitude first.”
“……”
Such arrogant words, spoken so kindly.
Telling me not to be servile.
The exact opposite of a world that stole everything from her with a smile.
To El, Caron was that kind of existence. If the world was the earth, Caron was the sky. And she was always ready to crash down for the sake of the sky.
Which was why she was so careful—falling usually meant dying.
She didn’t even dare hope to touch the sky, only prayed she would never fall.
“I only show myself to those beside me—not to subordinates beneath me.”
But if he said this…
“I’ll… try.”
Could she really?
Her clear eyes quivered faintly. What if greed ruins everything?
She could never read Caron’s true heart.
“We’ve arrived!”
Just then, the coachman called out, slowing the carriage.
Startled back to her senses, El quickly opened the window to clear her muddled head.
“Wow…”
A gasp slipped from her lips.
Colorful confetti fluttered everywhere, shop signs were decorated in their own unique styles, and street vendors lined the roads with their wares.
Excitement lit every face.
A festival.
El pressed a hand hard over her pounding heart.
Am I allowed to enjoy this? Do I deserve it?
“Come.”
Caron stepped down from the carriage and held out his hand.
Magnificent. Maddeningly so.
The only person who always looked at her so steadily, so unwaveringly, while offering his hand—was Caron.
(To be continued…)
