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~Chapter 57~
Nixia read the letter again.
At the very end, it looked as though Hailey had written it in a hurry, just before Shariette came back.
“Oh, and Nixia, you truly have a wonderful friend. I feel like I’ve gotten to know Lady Shariette in a new way this time.”
The Perez family had long held influence in the Council, and as a house that had produced many queens, even the royal family could not easily act against them.
Because of that, Hailey herself, though bright and gentle, was never someone soft or careless.
‘She looks cheerful on the outside, but she doesn’t let just anyone into her circle.’
Even for Nixia, who had grown up close to her since childhood due to their families’ ties, it was rare for Hailey to speak this openly.
“…Call for Sir Janet.”
A little later, the knight arrived, with short dark-brown hair cut at her shoulders.
“Sir Janet. What exactly happened to Shariette today at the Perez mansion?”
“How should I decide the standard of what counts as ‘something happened’?”
“Anything that could have hurt her feelings.”
Janet fell silent for a moment.
“There was nothing.”
“Sir Janet.”
Nixia’s voice grew sharp. But still, Janet stood firm and gave the same answer.
“My lord is Lord Noxian. And Lord Noxian ordered me to place Lady Shariette’s command and protection above all else. Therefore, if Lady Shariette told me to remain silent about something, I cannot tell you.”
Knights! Nixia ran her hand through her hair in irritation.
Meanwhile, in Janet’s mind, the events from earlier at the tea party came back vividly.
“Lady Shariette, your expression doesn’t look good. Did someone speak carelessly to you?”
On the way back from the Perez mansion, Janet asked with her hand resting on her sword hilt.
Shariette, her face stiff with thought, shook her head.
“Sir Janet… do you know what people say about Noxi—about the Young Duke?”
“You may speak freely. As you know well, about Lord Noxian, they say: the Devil of Rubenshire, scoundrel, heartless beast, brute, villain, Rubellot’s madman, blood-crazed demon, bas—…”
Janet rattled off her lord’s infamous nicknames without hesitation—until she suddenly stopped.
Because the pale, soft face before her had drooped sadly.
“He’s not that bad.”
“…Pardon?”
Oh no! She realized too late—she shouldn’t have spoken like she was gossiping with the Pendragon guys.
“Yes, you’re right. Rumors always get exaggerated.”
Janet quickly corrected herself, half-truth and half-consolation, out of loyalty and consideration.
Yet, somewhere inside, she felt a strange tickle in her chest.
Family, comrades, superiors—you can curse them yourself.
Among themselves, insults were a form of rough affection. But if outsiders dared to open their mouths, it made her blood boil.
She almost wanted to dunk those fools into the Setora Mountains for three or four days.
Let them stick their heads once into a monster’s jaws—after that, they’d never dare spit a word about Rubellot or my lord again!
Now, hearing a stranger like Shariette defend him so earnestly stirred a strange feeling in her.
“Don’t tell Noxian or Nixia about this. Nor Lady Marianne, nor the Duke either.”
…But those people wouldn’t be hurt at all. In fact, they enjoyed and even used their bad reputation.
Janet swallowed that truth back down.
Reality was harsh—just getting this far in life required skill, luck, quick wit, and sharp instincts.
And right now, her instincts told her: Let Lady Shariette keep her mistaken belief.
Besides… having someone so pure-heartedly worry and take their side…
It’s oddly touching—even if the one being defended isn’t me.
After hearing the rough outline from Shariette, Noxian lowered his head.
Ha… haha.
His shoulders trembled faintly.
So—just because she had heard those few words.
She had come storming in, furious, declaring she wouldn’t let him “hear any nonsense.”
“She got worked up… for me.”
The thought that this woman—usually indifferent to everything—had gotten angry on his behalf…
“You said I’m fine to touch. But if you need to get used to being around people, then we should practice more touching—”
Did she even realize what she was saying?
Noxian quickly pressed his hand over her mouth with the same hand that had been tugging at his twitching lips.
Otherwise, he might laugh out loud, babble nonsense, or do something truly reckless.
Somehow, he forced himself to breathe slowly, pushing the boiling impulse back down. At last, he spoke.
“Shariette.”
“What?”
“First, let’s make a promise.”
“A promise?”
He lifted his head.
His face looked no different than usual, but Shariette thought his eyes were shifting deeply, like waves.
“From now on—never, ever say things like ‘practice touching’ to anyone.”
“…Why?”
The fact that she could even ask that right now—Noxian clenched his teeth.
Damn those Argen bastards.
How far had they neglected her?
Especially that insane Marquis—he should never have killed him so quickly. He should have kept him alive, made him repay this sin for the rest of his life…
His teeth ground audibly.
Shariette sensed the danger and quickly nodded.
“Alright.”
“…Do you even know why you’re promising?”
“Doesn’t matter. As long as I don’t do it, right? But then… does that mean I shouldn’t say it to you either? Should I not touch you anymore?”
“……”
The innocent question made Noxian momentarily speechless.
Even the rage boiling seconds ago dissolved into smoke.
Did she really just ask that?
It felt like someone had struck him in the back of the head and dragged him into an absurd dilemma.
The easiest answer was obvious:
You’re my pharmacist, my physician, my person—so I’m the exception.
Damn it. He could have just said that.
But instead—
“…Don’t say things like that to me either.”
Shariette tilted her head.
“…Why?”
He felt like he’d just smashed his own foot with a hammer.
Noxian wanted to slam his head into the wall behind her half a dozen times. Or no—scream, break, burn, kill everything in sight.
Even drag the dead back from hell just to kill them again.
His throat tightened. It was like he was standing in that underground place all over again.
He barely swallowed the surge in his throat and reached toward her.
His sudden movement might have seemed threatening—but her eyes didn’t even flicker. He slammed his hand against the wall just past her shoulder.
She only stared back curiously.
As he had often noticed—
This woman didn’t react to threats unless her life was immediately in danger.
He’d thought she was just reckless.
But no—it was something else.
It was as if something normal in her mind had been carved out and thrown away.
That’s why she spoke like this. That’s why she asked such things.
Finally, Noxian forced out his voice, hoarse and strained.
“Your body belongs to you, Shariette.”
“Of course I know that.”
“No—you don’t.”
“If you really understood, you could never say things like that.”
He lowered his head slowly.
Their foreheads nearly touched.
Their eyes locked at a distance that left no room to turn away.
“It means that unless you give permission, no one has the right to touch you.”
“And it means—you must never give that permission carelessly to anyone.”
Shariette forgot to breathe, listening as each of his words etched themselves into her.
It felt like scarlet letters burning themselves into the whiteness of her mind.
“If you say, ‘It’s okay to touch me,’ then others—those who don’t cherish you—will take advantage of it.”
Shariette already understood what he meant by “take advantage.”
Back then, it hadn’t been permission—it had been more like consent forced by circumstance.
Or perhaps not even consent—just surrender, which she convinced herself to call agreement because it made it easier to endure.
“Whatever it is—if you don’t want it, you can refuse. You must refuse.”
His final words came almost as a whisper, tinged with self-mockery.
“…Even if it’s me.”
