MLHBMH 10

Chapter 10

We Were a Surprisingly Good Match

Morning had barely broken, the faint blush of dawn already fading into daylight.

“…”

When Harold awoke, he frowned at the dull ache running through his arm — the kind of cramp that came from staying in one position too long. Then he looked down and saw the cause: Lilliana, still fast asleep, using his arm as a pillow.

A quiet, self-mocking laugh slipped from his lips.

He wasn’t laughing at her — he was laughing at himself.

From the moment he’d stepped in to help a drunk woman stranded without money, everything had spun wildly off the rails. None of it had gone according to plan. He hadn’t even had a plan that involved spending the night beside her.

It was true that he hadn’t had much of a choice last night… but even so, he couldn’t help wondering: Was this really the only way?

Suppressing the thought, Harold gently checked the scrapes on Lilliana’s palms, elbows, and knees. The knee wound, in particular, had worried him the night before — but it seemed to be healing cleanly.

No infection. That’s good. No need for more ointment, then.

Slipping out of bed, Harold rang for the same hotel staff member he’d met yesterday and asked them to bring breakfast in an hour.

By then, she should be awake.

He decided to wash up first, before she stirred, and headed for the bathroom.

But when he came out — clean, fresh, shirt draped loosely over his shoulders — Lilliana looked like a prey animal dropped into a predator’s den. She was trembling from head to toe.

“…”

Anyone who sees this will think I did something terrible to her.

His lips curved slightly, half amused, half exasperated.

He hadn’t done a damn thing — he’d helped her. He’d saved her from a bad situation, calmed her when she cried, even tucked her into bed after she’d stripped down and fallen asleep — and now she was looking at him as though he were some criminal.

“Why so quiet?” he asked after a moment.

She still didn’t answer. Her wide eyes darted everywhere but at him. From the look on her face, she didn’t seem to remember what had happened last night.

If that was the case, better to leave things buried. Nothing good would come of bringing it up again — as long as he kept his mouth shut.

“Um… could you… maybe step outside for a bit? I’d like to get dressed,” she said timidly at last.

The way she kept shrinking away from him made a mischievous impulse spark in Harold’s chest.

He tilted his head. “Go outside like this?”

“Th-that’s not what I meant—!”

He’d only glanced at her chest where her robe gaped slightly, but she jerked in shock and looked down, face red as a beet. His quiet chuckle filled the room.

She’d done far more than this last night, and yet this was what flustered her? It was almost endearing.

Maybe I’ll tease her a bit more, he thought, a sly smile tugging at his lips. Fortunately—or not—Lilliana didn’t notice it.

“Th-then please just turn around! I’ll change quickly!” she blurted.

Harold ignored her request and sat back down at the head of the bed.

“Do we really need to be that formal, given our relationship?”

“O-our relationship?”

Her green eyes wavered with confusion. Last night, that anxious look had irritated him. Now, oddly, he found it… charming.

Leaning closer, he smiled. “Don’t remember?”

“…”

Her eyes darted away, unfocused. From that reaction, it was obvious she didn’t remember what she’d said — about becoming lovers.

Should he remind her? Or keep it to himself?

As she looked up at him again, tense and defensive, he decided — yes, he would tease her a little more.

“You asked me to be your lover,” he said smoothly.

What… what did he just say?

A lover? Did he just claim that I asked him to be my lover?!

Lilliana’s jaw dropped. Her mind went completely blank, as though someone had smacked her across the back of the head with a hammer.

“Th… that’s not—”

She stammered, half in shock, half in denial.

“Don’t lie! I would never say something like that!”

“Oh? Then… ‘Will you be my lover?’ — that wasn’t you?”

His calm, mocking tone made her freeze. Memories came rushing back in fragments — his face, his voice, her own drunken words echoing in her mind.

She couldn’t deny it. It was too clear.

“So, you do remember something,” Harold said, hitting the mark perfectly.

Lilliana hunched her shoulders like a startled turtle, staring down at the sheets instead of his eyes.

“Not talking again? Funny — last night you wouldn’t stop talking, even when I didn’t ask.”

“…”

Her face flushed. What had she said last night? Trying to recall, her mind suddenly flashed with the memory of his lips against hers. Her stomach twisted, and she squeezed her eyes shut.

Why couldn’t she remember the normal parts? Why only the mortifying ones?!

“Are you going to stay quiet forever?”

At his question, she glanced up nervously, only to drop her gaze again when their eyes met.

“I-I don’t know what I said, but… it was all nonsense! I was drunk. Please just forget it.”

“So you do remember being drunk.”

Ah. She realized too late she’d just admitted it.

“…A little,” she muttered. “I remember coming into the hotel, but… after that, nothing.”

That wasn’t entirely true — she did remember flashes of what happened after. She just wasn’t about to say them out loud.

“Well, that’s a shame,” Harold murmured, lazily twirling a strand of her long hair between his fingers. “We were a surprisingly good match.”

She froze.

“If you’d like,” he added with a teasing drawl, “we could always… recreate last night.”

The large hand playing with her hair suddenly shifted, tugging lightly at the blanket as if to pull it away.

Lilliana jumped to her feet, clutching it tight.

“I-I’m going to get dressed!” she squeaked.

Snatching her clothes off the floor, she scurried toward the bathroom, the blanket still wrapped tightly around her like a cocoon. It made her waddle awkwardly, but she was too flustered to notice how ridiculous she looked.

Inside the bathroom, she shut the door, leaned against it, and covered her face with both hands.

The fragmented memories kept replaying in her head, stabbing her with embarrassment.

“What were you thinking, Lilliana?” she whispered bitterly.

No matter how much Frederic’s cruel words had broken her spirit, that was no excuse to spend the night with a stranger.

If only she hadn’t drunk so much. Or at least kept enough sense to stop herself before doing something so reckless.

“This is a disaster,” she groaned.

Regret flooded her chest — but it was too late. The damage was done.

“Now I just have to… fix this somehow,” she muttered.

Except… how did one fix something like this? She couldn’t even pretend ignorance anymore — Harold clearly knew she remembered parts of the night.

So much for denying everything.

“First… a shower. Maybe something will come to me.”

Maybe a bit of cold water would help her think straight. Hoping for a miracle, Lilliana shed the blanket and stepped into the shower.

Once she disappeared into the bathroom, Harold got dressed and settled onto the sofa. Lighting a cigar, he exhaled slowly, watching the smoke curl in the morning light.

The image of her face — wide-eyed, flustered, utterly lost — replayed in his mind.

Last night she’d been bold, fiery, reckless. Today she was shy to the point of trembling.

Which one was the real her? He honestly couldn’t tell.

“I really should stop teasing her,” he murmured to himself.

If he kept pushing, she’d probably end up crying. So when she came out, he’d behave, explain things properly, maybe even apologize a little.

He hadn’t expected to get tangled up with her like this, after all.

Resting his chin on his hand, he flicked the ash from his cigar into the glass ashtray. It hadn’t been part of his plan — but it wasn’t entirely a bad development, either.

After all, befriending someone while hiding his true identity was one of the most effective ways to gather information.

Still, if investigation was all he’d intended, he could have questioned her last night while she was drunk. The fact that he hadn’t… bothered him.

Not that it would have revealed why the Second Prince was so interested in digging into the Benjamin family, anyway.

Splash—

Water was running now. So she’d decided to take a full bath instead of just changing.

Looks like this’ll take a while. He stubbed out the half-finished cigar and stood just as a knock sounded at the door.

“Already? Breakfast came early,” he muttered, heading to open it.

But instead of a staff member, a well-dressed man with neatly combed dark-brown hair greeted him with a broad smile.

“Long time no see, Harold.”

It was Liam Francis — heir to the Marquisate of Francis and current manager of this very hotel. A former academy classmate.

Harold’s expression cooled instantly. He crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe, blocking the man’s view inside.

“What brings you here?”

“What, no friendly greeting? That’s cold,” Liam said with a laugh.

“I asked what you’re doing here.”

His tone made it clear: Say your piece and leave.

Awkwardly lowering his hand, Liam shrugged. “Heard from the manager that you checked in. Thought I’d stop by to say hi — missed your welcome party because of work, remember?”

As he spoke, his eyes darted past Harold, scanning the room behind him. Searching.

For her, obviously.

Harold’s mouth twisted into a sharp smile.

“Not very professional of a luxury hotel to violate a guest’s privacy, is it?”

Liam flinched. “N-no, it’s not like that! The manager didn’t tell me anything! I just saw that there were two guests listed for this suite, so I wondered if maybe you brought a lady and—ha ha, no, that can’t be right. You gave up that kind of life ages ago.”

He trailed off awkwardly—then froze.

Because at that exact moment, his gaze fell to the floor.

Where a single, lacy white stocking lay crumpled beside the bed.