Chapter 131
The Lake of Death
The morning sunlight seeped through the curtains, softly brightening the bedroom as Johan opened his eyes.
A strange weight rested lightly on his left arm. Tilting his head, he gazed down at his wife asleep in his embrace.
They had spent many nights together, but this was the first time he woke to see her at his side in the morning.
And the first time she had slept quietly without doing anything at all.
He had not wished for the waiting to drag on. It had been a night full of reward for the unintentional strain he had put on his body.
Just being able to fall asleep holding her was more than enough.
Johan bent his head and brushed a kiss against her round forehead. Olivia stirred faintly.
“…Grandmother.”
His gray eyes, which had been glistening as they gazed at her, cracked with a faint fissure.
It was satisfying that the name she murmured in her sleep was not Edgar’s, yet he could not help but wonder why.
It had not been the Count of Blanchet but rather the Countess who detested the illegitimate granddaughter’s existence.
The Countess, who had adored Elena as though she were her own reflection, had poured all her anger and sense of betrayal toward her daughter onto Olivia.
“…Grandmother…”
She was not someone Olivia should have been calling for so desperately. Johan looked down at her with half-lowered eyes.
Her even breaths, soaked in the tranquil morning light, brushed his cheek like a spring breeze.
He knew it was greedy to hope that his wife would love him as she once had—but still, he wanted to make it so.
He wanted her to desire him, to long for him, to love only him.
Yet even now, in this moment when he had finally forced his runaway wife to stay by his side, a strange unease refused to fade.
He couldn’t even tell where the unease came from.
Holding the wife who used his arm as a pillow, Johan pulled her close, pressing his chin against the crown of her head.
He caged her in his arms as if never intending to let her go again. And still, the anxiety did not leave him.
“Olivia.”
He quietly called her name.
Olivia slowly opened her eyes, feeling the pressure pressing against her whole body.
The first thing that came into focus as she blinked was Johan’s throat right in front of her. Startled, she squirmed, but he only pulled her tighter.
“Let go. Let me go, Johan.”
“Why? Planning to run away again?”
Johan pressed himself closer. Olivia’s lips parted silently.
“…”
With no space left between them, the hardness of his body pressed firmly against her.
“J–Johan…”
“What are you so surprised about? You’re the one who made me this way.”
“P–please, let go.”
Flustered, Olivia twisted and turned, her face burning crimson. But her struggles to escape only made things worse.
Oh no! Her face flushed as red as a burning sunset, her vision going white.
“Looks like you’ll have to help me out.”
Johan chuckled low, his hot breath brushing her ear. Olivia shook her head at the strange ticklishness.
Though she was inexperienced in such matters, she wasn’t so naïve as not to understand what kind of “help” he was asking for.
Perhaps amused by her reaction, he pressed himself against her more playfully.
Startled, Olivia pushed at him with both hands. Johan let out a short grunt of pain.
She must have hit his wounded right shoulder, but Olivia had no mind to worry about such things.
Scrambling free from the bed, she fled without even looking back.
Johan sighed deeply, unrelieved of his longing. It wasn’t the first time—but the more he thought about it, the less he understood her reactions.
Apparently, forgiveness and sharing a bed were not the same thing.
Autumn in Greythill was breathtakingly beautiful.
Under the clear sky, golden leaves rippled in the breeze. A gentle wind shook the branches without reason.
Yellow leaves began to fall thickly from above.
It wasn’t the same as the spring rains of blossoms, but the golden leaves raining down in quiet dance were still a magnificent sight.
“Greythill’s autumn feels special.”
“Yes, my lady.”
It was Olivia’s first time seeing Greythill’s autumn, and she was utterly captivated by its quiet charm.
Thanks to that, she was able to shake off the strange, uncomfortable sensations that had plagued her all morning.
She reached toward a red maple leaf fluttering down. Just as it touched her fingertips, a sudden gust swept it back up into the sky.
“Please wait here a moment, my lady. I’ll fetch your shawl.”
“It’s fine, Anne.”
“You’ll catch a cold.”
Olivia had always suffered from colds each winter.
The winters she had spent in a freezing attic had been harsher than most. Though her life had improved after marriage, Anne still couldn’t forget those days.
“I’ll be right back.”
Anne turned and hurried away. Watching her maid’s retreating back with a smile, Olivia slowed her pace along the path.
The path naturally led to a small trail into the forest.
Between the tall cedars in the distance, she caught sight of a deep-blue lake. Light danced on the surface in silver flecks.
Almost without realizing, Olivia took a step forward. Entering the cedar woods, the surroundings grew dim.
Shafts of light filtered through the branches, wavering on the dirt path. The breeze across the lake carried the scent of fresh water.
When she emerged from the cedar path, the reflection of white light from the lake pierced the stillness and stung her eyes.
Shielding her eyes, she blinked, waiting until her vision adjusted. Slowly, she opened her eyes again.
Before her stood a massive old zelkova tree, its long, weary branches trailing down toward the water as if watching her.
It felt as if time had stopped in a space cut off from the world.
No wind, no birdsong—only silence.
As if enchanted, Olivia began to walk through the grass toward the lakeshore.
Meanwhile, Johan was in his office, listening to Maurice’s report.
At the strong urging of both his physician and Olivia, he had agreed to handle his duties from Greythill for the time being.
It wasn’t the way he preferred, but he yielded readily to his wife’s wishes—for the sake of the woman who had forgiven him, though she still refused his bed.
Just as Maurice finished reporting on the reopening of the Hessen steelworks, Johan rose from the sofa.
Holding a cigar loosely between slender fingers, he started toward the desk, then suddenly turned to the window.
It overlooked the rear garden.
His lips curved faintly as he bit the cigar.
There was Olivia with her maid, walking side by side beneath lace parasols. Fixing his gaze on them, he lit the cigar.
One of the most striking changes in his wife was her attitude toward her maid.
She had once been like that with Diane Brook—like sisters, trusting, relying, following.
Johan was always careful about the people around Olivia. He would not let another Diane repeat the same betrayal.
Of course, that maid was unlikely to stab Olivia in the back as that cursed woman had.
But the possibility of her betraying him for her mistress’s sake still existed.
Johan exhaled a long stream of smoke.
As the grayish smoke slowly spread, he saw Olivia’s maid suddenly turn and run back the way she had come.
Left alone, Olivia paused, then began to walk on.
Under her sky-blue parasol, her wavy brown hair danced.
Her bluish-violet skirt, shaped like a bellflower, swayed as she crossed from the garden into the cedar woods.
Her figure flickered in and out of sight among the trees. Johan’s eyes followed her.
At that very moment, an urgent voice cried out—just as the silver-scaled surface of the lake came into view.
“M–My lady has jumped into the lake… she’s in grave danger!”
Johan burst out of the office.
“Sir!”
Maurice called after him in alarm, but Johan was already sprinting down the hall. Pain seared his wounded right thigh, but it could not overcome the terror gripping him.
“…Every moment was… unbearable…”
Her voice echoed in his ears like the whisper of the wind.
“Olivia!”
Johan ran across the garden at full speed, calling her name.
But as if deaf to him, Olivia kept walking deeper into the woods—toward the lake.
In a frozen world where everything seemed to have stopped, only Olivia and the silver ripples of the lake moved.
Even the sound of her cream-colored shoes crushing grass was swallowed by the silence.
She was stepping closer to the lake’s edge when suddenly her shoulder was seized and yanked back.
Startled, she dropped her parasol and turned her head.
“Johan!”
“What do you think you’re doing?”
Breathing harshly, he glared at her. She realized with a shock that her shoes were already wet.
When had she come this close…?
“I asked what you were doing.”
Startled, Olivia slowly lifted her gaze. The large hands gripping her shoulders were trembling faintly.
So this was the lake she had once fallen into.
“Olivia.”
“It was beautiful. I just wanted to see it closer.”
In the silence, broken only by the wind, they stared at each other. His bloodshot eyes looked like the twilight sky at sunset.
“Don’t ever come here.”
At his sharp command, Olivia quietly nodded.
He was shaken. This man.
Olivia reached out and fastened the buttons of his half-open shirt. His silver-gray tie, neatly worn at breakfast, was nowhere to be seen.
“All right. Let’s go back.”
She looked up and smiled at him. Johan wrapped his arm around her and turned her around.
The crunch of fallen leaves scattered beneath their feet, carried away on the autumn wind.
Slowly, Olivia glanced back over Johan’s shoulder.
The sunlit lake still shone cold and piercingly bright.
