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Chapter : 33
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“Alperil?”
A voice, almost like an auditory hallucination, echoed through the unusually quiet surroundings. Reflexively, Alperil looked up toward the source of the sound and immediately doubted her own eyes. Her blue eyes scanned the stranger from his feet up to his face.
No—he wasn’t really a stranger. Within a few seconds, Alperil recognized who he was, and a reflexive smile appeared at the corner of her mouth.
“Pascal!”
She dashed toward him barefoot, nearly colliding with his chest, but Pascal, with perfect timing, grabbed her slight shoulders and stopped her first. A relieved, overflowing laugh escaped her.
“Kal, I knew you’d written the letter… but I never dreamed you’d actually come here yourself.”
“No matter how many times I knocked on the door, no one answered, and I wasn’t sure what to do. But—”
Pascal furrowed his brow and glanced her over, taking in her disheveled state from head to toe. Alperil, slightly embarrassed, covered her mouth and looked down at her feet, smeared with blood and dirt.
Actions came before words. Frowning, Pascal first took off his own shoes, then, wrapping his arms around Alperil’s waist as she hesitated, lifted her up and placed her gently on top of the empty shoes.
It was at that moment she realized for the first time that the Pascal she knew as a handyman was wearing shoes fit for a nobleman. The insoles, slightly loose, were even soft, perhaps made of a luxurious material.
“Could it be that the master of this place chased you away?”
The sharp question hung in the air. Pascal paused briefly before continuing.
“Did he even hit you with a whip? Your face looks bruised.”
“No, it’s not like that. He’s very kind… and he’s not even in the mansion right now.”
For some reason, she glanced at her friend in his unfamiliar appearance and murmured the explanation as if to justify herself. Pascal let out a small sigh.
“Leaving like this right away would be impossible. For now, let me take you to the mansion.”
“And you… what’s with your outfit?”
“Why? I made some effort. Not impressive enough for your castle, I suppose?”
After noticing his shoes, her eyes were drawn to his well-fitting navy coat, then to his refined shirt and composed manners.
Today, he looked like a gentleman of rank. Seeing that the rugged Pascal she knew had somehow changed, Alperil spoke carefully, sensing he didn’t want more questions.
“No, I meant… you look really great.”
“That’s a relief, then.”
Alperil, still in her loose shoes, walked slowly toward the main entrance of Saint-Callem with him. She worried about encountering the mansion’s servants along the way, but it seemed her fears were unfounded.
The mansion’s front gate looked no different from the night before. Alperil bent down toward a letter lying at the door. The tip of the snowy-white envelope was slightly damp.
“You should open it inside. It’s embarrassing out here.”
The voice sounded beside her. Alperil interpreted it as a light joke and smiled faintly, asking,
“Is there something for you to be embarrassed about with me?”
“There is.”
Always, yes. The tone was peculiar. Alperil’s faintly forced smile drooped slightly.
She couldn’t ignore the sense of discomfort. Pascal had always been the only person with whom she felt completely at ease. Was it selfish to hope he would always remain that way?
Everyone was changing, yet she alone felt stuck in place.
When she was with the young master, she realized she had never been entirely at ease before him. She often tried to suppress her shifting emotions, letting the time pass while hiding her heart’s turmoil—a habit that sometimes scared her.
Perhaps it was because she constantly felt the need to be careful, to leave a good impression on him. Adjusting her appearance, hiding expressions… hiding her racing heartbeat…
And yet, she somehow found herself longing for those moments. As Alperil lowered her head in thought, she heard footsteps retreating behind her. Turning around in surprise, Pascal spoke.
“Rest here comfortably until tomorrow morning. You can’t just enter a nobleman’s house without permission.”
Pascal pointed out something Alperil hadn’t even thought of. The young master wasn’t home. No matter how generous, allowing a stranger inside without permission would certainly cross a line.
“Then you…”
“Don’t worry. There’s a carriage I came in.”
Pascal gave a faint smile and left after closing the door.
Alone in the mansion for a moment, Alperil tore open the letter in her hands. Inside was an invitation dated for the next day.
The invitation, adorned with a gold-embossed border, contained no information except the date. No time or place was indicated. Alperil stared at it for a moment before turning away.
After soaking in warm bathwater, she collapsed onto her bed without thinking further.
As soon as her head touched the pillow, Alperil fell asleep and did not wake up even once. “Unable to open her eyes” might even be a more accurate description. She felt as though she had dreamt something.
In a pre-dawn nightmare, she had to endure someone’s gaze the entire time.
The sensation was so vivid she even worried someone might have actually entered the room. But in the morning, only the shadow of a large tree branch cast across the room greeted her.
Perhaps, in her current situation, it was strange to expect pleasant dreams.
It was early morning, around eight o’clock. Habitually glancing at the rising sun outside, Alperil soon questioned her own eyes.
Pascal was lingering beneath a frost-covered winter tree. Alperil hurried to the window and called out.
“Pascal?”
He tilted his head slightly, looking up at her. Pascal found her at the window without difficulty and returned a gentle smile without further response.
Alperil, uneasy, looked down at him again, then closed the window against the cold wind. How long had he been waiting there? His over-consideration filled her with guilt.
Frantically, she straightened her appearance and checked the dress she had worn last night. Its dazzling hem was smeared with mud and blood of unknown origin. Given what she had gone through, this was almost expected.
Looking at the invitation, she realized the event required formal attire. Should she have asked where it was…? Alperil clutched her forehead in frustration.
Even with Pascal by her side, she couldn’t be at ease leaving the young master behind. Then, a strange voice sounded behind her.
“Alperil, no need to rush. I was just enjoying the morning air.”
Her startled eyes turned. Pascal, dressed neatly as yesterday, stood by the door. Startled by his unannounced entry, she stepped back.
“Y-you said you wouldn’t come in yesterday.”
“You can’t have a proper conversation outside. I think he’d understand if only for a moment.”
He naturally began walking into her room, looking around. Each step he took left dirty footprints.
Every glance of his felt inexplicably intrusive. Pascal’s eyes lingered on her hand, slightly withdrawn in caution. He gave a faint, unreadable smile and said softly:
“Stop worrying about that dress. You’ll get your hands dirty.”
He probably didn’t realize, but that didn’t erase the hurt she felt. Flushing slightly, she spoke, forcing her voice:
“Don’t say that, Kal. It’s precious to me.”
“But it will dirty your hands. It’s just a dress.”
No need to worry about the dress—she’d change into prepared attire anyway. What mattered was… she couldn’t make out Pascal’s nonchalant voice clearly.
Only then did Alperil blurt out a question, full of fear and despair.
“What are you?”
“Alperil?”
“No… I don’t want to talk more. I’ll follow soon, so leave for now.”
Holding her throbbing forehead, Alperil postponed the conversation. Her kind childhood friend was awkward, but he had an innate sense of consideration.
He brushed his hair back and smiled faintly.
“Alperil, I don’t know. Was this really something to sulk about?”
“I don’t know you right now either. I’m not sulking—I’m angry.”
Sensing her tense mood, Pascal stepped back slightly. Meeting her sharp gaze, he added one last remark before closing the door:
“You know, you’ve changed too.”
Thudding as the door closed, Alperil repeated his words in her mind. A hollow laugh escaped her. She hadn’t been the only one to change—somehow, that was a pleasant thought.
Before self-reproach could start, she was able to feel anger. It wasn’t exactly pleasant to realize it in front of a lifelong childhood friend’s change, though.
Alperil put on a teal dress that covered her neck, hurriedly threw on her coat, and left. Pascal was waiting for her in the hallway.
