07
Vivienne
After the man returned to his own room, Vivienne was left alone in hers. The agent didn’t seem to feel the cold at all—he never bothered to light the fireplace. Knowing she couldn’t wake him, Vivienne curled herself up on the bed and sat there quietly.
When she lifted her head, she saw a single window before her. It was the one she often stared at during the dawn hours when Edmund was away from the villa.
Her thoughts drifted to the far larger windows she used to gaze out of at the manor.
Twelve years ago.
There had been a day, one warm summer afternoon, when that window stood wide open.
Cool air had flowed in through it, and because she liked the breeze so much, Vivienne would sit there playing with her cherished toys. Her favorite dolls stood neatly in a row, waiting their turn to have their hair brushed by her.
The hairpin that Senate Chairman Rex had given her sparkled where it was tucked into her neatly combed hair.
She lacked for nothing. On the table in the distance were stacks of precious candies, biscuits, and fairy-tale books, and in one corner sat an intricately crafted dollhouse.
Dressed in a brand-new summer dress that had just arrived at the estate, Vivienne was in an excellent mood.
Especially on days when her parents were away and even her older brother, Linus, was absent at boarding school, the maids were noticeably more compliant with her.
The land was unnaturally quiet in the aftermath of the intercontinental war. Even more so in a wealthy residential district like this.
Just as Vivienne was completely absorbed in her own little world, something like a carved piece of wood suddenly slid in through the open window.
“Huh? It went in!”
“Oh—oh no. That’s mine. Samuel, you said you’d only use it once and give it back. Samuel! Samuel!”
What Vivienne picked up was a model glider. It wasn’t an expensive store-bought toy—rather, it looked like something carefully carved by hand from wood.
The adults said that powered aircraft had been invented around the time she was born. Ever since, the sight of humans cutting through the sky had inspired awe in countless people.
Among toys, there were few things considered as prized as high-end dolls—except for finely made model gliders. Linus had several in his room as well.
If I go outside, Mother will scold me.
Vivienne glanced toward the door, started to rise, then sat back down. Compared to the ones in Linus’s room, this glider was barely more than a chunk of wood. She set it aside and immersed herself in her doll play again.
She picked it up once more some time later—after a commotion broke out downstairs.
“I told you, everything else might be fine, but you can’t go upstairs. That’s where the masters stay.”
“I’ll just get the thing I lost. I swear I won’t touch anything else. I promise.”
Clutching the glider tightly, Vivienne went down the stairs. With every step, the arguing voices grew louder.
“Oh—there’s the glider!”
She had been trying to observe unnoticed, but that bold voice drew everyone’s attention to her.
The butler and maids turned to look at Vivienne. And standing before the maid who had stepped aside was a girl about her age.
“Daniel.”
The girl shaking the boy beside her was dressed just as Vivienne had only heard described—plain commoner’s clothes. A blouse under a worn vest, a loosely knotted tie.
Vivienne stared at the girl in trousers with an odd expression.
“That’s it, right? That’s what you lost?”
The boy, a head shorter than the girl, nodded vigorously.
“Th-thank you. But if the boss—Samuel—finds out, he’ll be really angry.”
“A boss? Someone who steals your things and uses them without permission?” the girl snapped. “If he bullies you again, come tell me. My parents are lawyers.”
“Y-yeah.”
Does she even know what a lawyer is? Vivienne rolled her eyes. With a bored look, she handed the glider off to a maid as if tossing it away and turned to leave.
“Hi. I’m Madison Parker.”
Vivienne looked down at the hand extended toward her.
“Thank you so much for giving the glider back to Daniel. He’s not from this neighborhood—Samuel probably flew it over here just to tease him.”
“Why?”
“He wondered if anyone actually lived in a palace-like mansion like this.”
Feeling someone staring, Vivienne turned her head. The boy was looking at her blankly, nodding enthusiastically as if the girl’s words were true.
Madison continued brightly.
“You live in such a nice place. Even the mansion next to the one where my mom works isn’t this luxurious.”
Vivienne turned away as if she’d heard enough and began walking off.
“Thanks for your help! I’ll write to you!”
Just as Madison said, since her parents worked nearby as lawyers, model gliders often flew into Vivienne’s window.
This time, one had a letter tied to it. She didn’t need to look to know who it was from.
Vivienne had always tossed them carelessly into the fireplace—until her parents returned to the estate two weeks later.
“…A child from the labor class came to the manor? Why wasn’t she simply sent away?”
Hearing her mother’s voice through the door, Vivienne held her breath and burrowed under the covers. In the darkness, the head maid’s voice followed.
“We tried, but the girl named Madison who came with her was remarkably sharp. She explained very clearly to the butler why the glider had to be returned.”
“And what reason was that?”
“That boy, Daniel, has an older brother. He lost a leg in the war. He never leaves the house, and Daniel spent months carving that glider with an old knife to cheer him up. To say that even without legs, one could still fly…”
“……”
“She spoke so logically and clearly that we couldn’t turn them away. They say her mother is a lawyer in Dainchester—she must take after her parents.”
From then on, Vivienne never threw away the gliders that flew in through her window.
Madison told her stories about the Dainchester children. She shared interesting tales from the workers’ districts. She bragged about new things she learned at school, visited when Vivienne’s father was away, and ate the snacks her mother prepared.
Vivienne learned, for the first time, that it was small things that made up the world—that fragments of stitched-together memories could become the quilt of everyday life.
Two years later, her fiancé changed from Rex’s eldest son to his second, and contact with that family increased. Meanwhile, Madison advanced to an upper school, and the gliders came less and less often.
Then, from that day onward, everything changed.
“Father, I’m sorry. I won’t— I’ll never touch Linus’s books again.”
Sixteen-year-old Vivienne sobbed as she clung to the Marquis of Mergoville’s trousers.
Her calves, exposed beneath her dress, were swollen and crisscrossed with angry red welts.
Behind her lay a broken switch—and scattered books.
The maids stood near the wall, their faces tightly controlled in misery. Linus, her brother, could not step forward either.
“I allowed that association because your mother said the child was worth something, even if she came from the middle class. And this is how you betray me?”
“No—no, Father. She has nothing to do with this. Madison had nothing to do with it. I just—”
Vivienne rubbed her head against his clothes, begging for mercy like a child.
“I was curious why gliders eventually fall instead of flying forever.”
“……”
“I thought the answer might be in the books Linus reads. I swear—I’ll never write to her again. Please. Please.”
She pleaded. Watching such a beautiful young lady cry so desperately made the servants’ hearts ache.
“I’ll never touch books meant for men again. I’ll become a proper—proper daughter, Father.”
“You are my daughter, Vivienne. A noble by birth.”
Her hands trembled as she clutched his trousers. He coldly pried her fingers away.
“You can never be the same as those filthy people you associate with.”
His gaze was arrogant and icy.
“You’ll be seventeen soon. Stop behaving like a disgrace.”
He turned away without looking back.
“It’s time you became your fiancé’s woman.”
Vivienne shook more violently than ever at those words.
From that day on, she often stared blankly out the window, as if waiting for something. Nothing ever happened—except the scenery changing.
The servants noticed her shoulders growing thinner but eventually grew accustomed to it.
They said it wasn’t just Vivienne’s problem—Madison was preparing for university entrance exams.
They exchanged letters occasionally after that, but rarely.
To Vivienne, whose entire world had been Madison, loneliness and her absence became the same thing.
People said it was nothing unusual between a noble girl and a middle-class childhood friend—but for someone whose life consisted of those passing words, it was everything.
For the one left alone forever in the sunlight of childhood, clearing away the remnants of memory and moving forward was never as easy as words made it sound.
Sometimes it felt like carving out every good memory along with the friend who shared them.
When one grew up and turned away, the girl holding a crudely made glider remained trapped in childhood, tracing the traces her friend left behind.
Those memories faded with the radiant light of summer, her consciousness drifting until everything blurred.
❖ ❖ ❖
Was I asleep?
Vivienne woke in biting cold. Whatever she’d dreamed of, her eyes were wet.
That chronic loneliness reminded her she was alive. That was why she hated sleeping.
Her wandering gaze swept the room and caught a face in the darkness. Warmth brushed her cheek, dampened by what had fallen from her eyes. Sensing Edmund’s familiar scent, Vivienne closed her eyes.
“I’m cold.”
She muttered curtly and turned away. Come to think of it, this whole ordeal was the homeowner’s fault.
Something heavy was set down with a dull clunk—metal striking the floor. Vivienne’s eyes opened to see a pistol placed on the side table. The one she’d taken out and hadn’t yet returned.
As his footsteps moved away, she spoke again.
“Did I tell you to go?”
It was a thoughtless remark, spoken between dream and waking. Yet the mattress dipped as weight returned.
She grabbed the arm that tried to pull away.
“You’re much warmer than a blanket.”
The man made no effort to shake her off as she burrowed into him. A calloused hand stroked her hair.
A soft kiss landed on her cheek, where tears were drying.
Warmth enveloped her, color returning to her face, and her steady breathing soon filled the quiet room.
Perhaps she’d been dozing upright, because the moment she lay down properly, she sank instantly into sleep—like a wary beast finally finding a safe den.
Edmund let her hair slip through his fingers, patted her softly breathing back, but she only frowned and shifted, never waking.
Each time, a faint scent brushed his nose. He felt the urge to bury his face in her slender neck—but kept his hand clenched instead.
Because then he’d want to kiss her, slide between her legs, lose himself entirely. Sex was predictable. The aftermath was always tedious.
Even if the partner was a noble lady, it wouldn’t be any different.
If anything, her status would make cleanup more troublesome. Thinking of her as a still-soft, upright, good woman cleared his muddled thoughts.
Yes. A good woman.
Annoying in temperament, but not cold enough to abandon her family entirely. Always ready to return home. Kind-hearted, trusting.
“No—no, Father. Madison has nothing to do with this. I just…”
Even in her sleep, she knew how to beg. Her face rubbing against his waist seemed the result of long discipline.
Women like her always had futures decided by authoritarian patriarchs—and a man destined to hold her hand. Getting involved would only be trouble.
There was no reason to have sex with this child when it always ended the same way.
Besides, what she wanted was a fairytale prince on a white horse—not a criminal who might be arrested any day.
When she dreamed of a prince’s kiss to break a hundred-year sleep, he imagined lifting her skirt and devouring pale skin. And yet, when she clung to him like someone finding shelter from the rain, he wanted to be a good man to her.
Suppressing the urge for a cigarette, he wondered if it would be easier if he really were an intelligence agent—just as she believed.
It would never be so. He’d hated taking orders since childhood.
He used people.
Tempted them. Tested them. Destroyed them.
And yet the thought of those lips betraying him left a bitter taste.
His gaze shifted to the pistol glinting in the dark.
He remembered what he’d planned—to kill her.
Vivienne Mergoville’s sharpened instincts hadn’t betrayed her. She had concluded that the man she met in the underworld and this man were the same.
[Thank you for waiting.]
Otherwise, there’d have been no need to say it in an unfamiliar foreign tongue. The only language he’d shown her he knew was Champignacian—never Mekalentian.
If she remembered their conversation in the underworld, she would have continued in that language the moment she saw him.
There would be no cleanup worries.
The bullet meant for her head tonight belonged to the Criminal Intelligence Bureau, and the pistol was originally the agent’s. It was a perfect setup—even convenient.
“How many times have you done it? A contract, I mean.”
“Once.”
“…Then yesterday dawn must have been your first.”
He’d told lies to win over someone he’d never meet again. He didn’t want to see her face when she realized it. She’d surely bare her fangs, just like always—and he feared what he might do then.
If he wanted her, even if she learned the truth and rejected him, he would hunt her down and claim her.
Just as he’d claimed everything else—by becoming the Prime Minister’s son through optimal means.
Before revealing his true self. Before emotion overtook reason.
…It would be better to shoot her.
No different from hunting in his uncle’s lands as a boy.
And yet—
Vivienne pressed herself closer to him in her sleep.
Already overheated, he felt her collar brush his as she shifted. He checked her face—peaceful, tear-streaked.
He tried to justify it, but the answer was obvious. Perhaps he hadn’t pulled the trigger because her noble face, begging him so desperately, was exactly his type.
Maybe that was why he needed excuses.
Reasons not to involve himself in her complicated life.
That it all came down to lust was almost laughable.
Killing her would erase the threat—but his life, safe and numb as always, would remain unchanged.
So she couldn’t simply vanish into a paradise without him, paid for by brief pain. Eternal rest was the greatest mercy he could offer—and he was not a merciful man.
Edmund brushed over her swollen eyelids, then leaned down and kissed her. The salty taste in his mouth made him want to leave—but Vivienne buried her head against his chest and breathed softly.
As he lay down with her, he curled his fingers and stroked her cheek indulgently. His eyes gleamed in the dark.
He liked this—her coming into his arms. Enough that his thoughts filled with how to make sure she would come to him again, even without being called.
