WRDP~12

Chapter 12  

Lirette took a long, steady breath.

Her heart was still pounding from being abruptly flipped upside down and carried all the way here. In truth, it hadn’t been a major incident, and yet, strangely, her nerves remained unsettled. A beat later, she realized why.

Even if it had happened in the confusion, while carrying her over his shoulder, his hand had pressed firmly against the area near her Name.

“Don’t ever do something like that again.”

“Why?”

“Why?”

Lirette stared at him in disbelief.

“My arms and legs work perfectly fine too. Even without using such a method, I could’ve returned to the bedroom without any problem.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Truly?”

“What exactly are you trying to ask?”

He slowly bent down in front of her.

The movement imprinted itself onto her vision—slow, deliberate. Yet to Lirette, it felt raw and untamed. Like a ferocious beast lowering itself before pouncing on prey.

“Come to think of it, I haven’t really seen you walking lately.”

Their thirty minutes together in the annex had always been spent the same way.

Valderion would enter her room, sit on the sofa, flip over the hourglass, and remain there until the sand ran out. Then he would leave immediately.

During all of that, there had been very few chances for him to actually watch her walk.

And when he had, she’d only been limping slightly.

Lirette watched the way his golden eyes darkened in thought, unease prickling beneath her skin. Which was why she nearly jumped out of her skin when he suddenly tried lifting her skirt.

She immediately slapped both hands down to stop him.

A fierce struggle broke out—one trying to raise the hem of her dress, the other desperately preventing it.

“What are you doing—?! Why are you suddenly acting like this?”

“I’m checking your leg, so move your hands.”

“I said don’t.”

As expected, she resisted stubbornly.

Even in a situation clearly tilted against her, she showed not a hint of backing down. Valderion found it mildly exhausting.

But he had no intention of giving up either.

The image of her stumbling on the way back to the bedroom remained lodged firmly in his mind.

He smirked.

“Are you doing this because you think I’m dirty?”

“That’s not the issue— Kyaa!”

The moment her guard dropped, her body lifted into the air again.

Thrown over his shoulder like luggage, Lirette smacked repeatedly at his back.

The blows were weaker than tapping someone with a pillow.

For someone hitting another person, she was absurdly harmless.

Valderion found himself impressed—for entirely different reasons.

“Then I’ll wash you first.”

Muttering something incomprehensible, he strode toward the bathroom attached to the bedroom.

Upside down and dizzy, Lirette barely registered where he was taking her.

Which was why she genuinely panicked when her folded-up body was suddenly tossed somewhere.

“Ah!”

The instant she landed on her backside, a creaking sound echoed.

Then she felt moisture soaking into the fabric beneath her.

Only after forcing her blurred vision back into focus did she realize she had been dumped into a pristine white bathtub.

As she pushed back her loose, tangled hair, the hem of her dress soaked through.

Valderion picked up a wooden bucket nearby and poured its contents into the tub.

Warm water splashed around her.

“Huh…?”

Now resembling a drenched stray animal, Lirette looked up at him in shock.

After shaking out the last drop from the bucket, he tossed it aside carelessly.

The harsh scrape echoed through the steam-filled bathroom.

Then he planted both hands on the edge of the bathtub.

His broad chest and shoulders spread around her like a wall.

Lirette glared fiercely at him, strands of damp hair clinging to her face.

“You really are… unbelievably… barbaric.”

The House of Eustutia was one of the empire’s great noble families.

Elegance.

Refinement.

Grace.

Those were the words she’d heard endlessly growing up, before her family’s honor collapsed into ruin.

Great nobles.

Examples to others.

Elegant? Refined? Graceful?

The man before her looked like none of those things.

This level of stubborn aggression belonged less to a noble and more to some lawless brute.

“Being called uncivilized by someone lowborn. That’s not entirely unpleasant.”

He brushed back his disheveled hair with deliberate calm.

The scattered bathroom light accentuated the beautiful lines of his face.

“I’m not asking you to touch my legs. I’m saying I’ll examine yours. Did you really have to turn this into such chaos?”

Lirette almost laughed.

Who exactly caused this chaos?

“My leg is fine.”

“Funny way to describe limping around like a bird with a broken wing.”

His gaze drifted downward.

Toward her rolled-up skirt.

The water had risen high enough to cover her ankles.

Valderion turned off the faucet.

Silence fell.

Heavy and thick.

Within that silence, he noticed something.

His first thought was simple.

She’s pale.

Her skin was so white it reminded him of porcelain.

But something interrupted that impression.

Scars.

Countless tiny, ugly scars.

Old enough that they had faded.

No angry red.

Only pale brown remnants left behind after years.

Yet there were so many that ignoring them was impossible.

Lirette realized he was staring at her legs.

Following his gaze downward, she noticed her skirt had ridden up, exposing nearly all the way to her calves.

“I’m leaving. Move.”

She hurriedly pulled her skirt down.

Only then did his sharp gaze rise back to her face.

And meeting his eyes became another kind of hardship.

Whenever Valderion looked at her like this—direct, piercing, as if trying to see through her—something inside her body tightened.

Whether it was because of the Name engraved on her back…

Or because of the indefinable heat burning in his eyes…

She didn’t know.

Expecting graceful manners from him now—gentlemanly hand-holding or noble decorum—was absurd.

Bracing herself against the wet tub floor, Lirette pushed herself up.

Naturally, her troublesome leg betrayed her.

The moment she tried standing fully—

“Ah!”

She lurched violently.

Water splashed everywhere.

As she flailed for something—anything—to grab, something caught her firmly.

Valderion’s hand.

Realizing it was him, she instinctively tried pulling away.

Too late.

His arm had already wrapped around her waist.

Clicking his tongue, he lifted her out of the bathtub himself.

“Doesn’t it bother you? Walking around with your leg like this?”

“I’m used to it.”

“Used to it?”

Confusion colored his voice.

Lirette immediately regretted her words.

Distracted by the arm still around her waist, she had said something that invited curiosity.

She bit down on her lip.

Valderion read the expression easily.

“Again… because of Dailen?”

“That’s not something you need to know.”

“I’m asking because I want to know.”

“And your curiosity doesn’t obligate me to answer.”

Even now, she refused to soften her tone.

The moment he loosened his hold, she immediately left the bathroom.

Her untreated leg still irritated him.

Yet just as she had said—

She walked like someone long accustomed to dragging around an injured leg.

Valderion followed behind.

For a brief moment, he considered crushing that stubborn pride of hers entirely.

But seeing her thin figure limping toward the bed left only bitterness.

She looked like someone carrying the last scraps of dignity she had left.

His brow furrowed.

He strode forward and shoved her lightly between the shoulder blades.

“—!”

Her fragile body pitched forward.

Fortunately, the bed was right there.

She collapsed onto it with a bounce.

Face burning with anger, Lirette turned around—

Only for Valderion’s hand to disappear beneath her skirt first.

“Mm—!”

Before she could protest, his large hand firmly wrapped around her calf.

His touch moved beneath the fabric however he pleased.

The outline of his hand shifted visibly through the cloth.

He kneaded the soft flesh.

Slid downward.

Toward the thin ankle that looked fragile enough to snap in one hand.

Valderion traced the area covered in scars.

Lirette stared silently in shock.

At some point, her forehead had lowered against the bed.

Her body trembled slightly with every movement of his hand.

Somewhere deep inside her, tension slowly loosened.

She had experienced his touch before.

Their palms meeting.

Occasional contact.

But this—

This was different.

Because this time, it was her leg.