A Butterfly Through the Mist - Chapter 109

Tilia, who had been staring at her own body as if looking at something foreign, slowly turned and walked toward the display of oils.

She opened the pretty glass bottles lined up in a row one by one, checking their scents, and after much deliberation, she chose one that smelled of roses. When she mixed the alluring scent into the steaming water, the wide bathroom soon became a blooming rose garden.

Tilia entered the bathtub, wishing for that enchanting fragrance to seep into every part of her body.

However, even in the water, at a temperature that seemed capable of washing away the fatigue of the entire day, Tilia couldn’t find peace and trembled slightly at the shoulders.

Even when she tried not to, her head kept turning toward the bathroom door. She couldn’t shake the feeling that he might burst through it at any moment.

Was it because of past experiences? Or the lingering sensation he had left behind? If not that…

Was it because of the lascivious anticipation she was harboring now?

Upon reaching that thought, Tilia slid into the water as if fleeing from her own imagination.

But even as she held her breath and submerged herself under the rose-scented water, she couldn’t stop her taut nerves from hovering near the door.

She stayed submerged until her cheeks turned red.

After getting out of the bathtub, Tilia carefully dried her hair, then selected the prettiest among the newly bought underwear to wear. After that, she rummaged through the wardrobe to find a loose, thin chemise to put on.

Having completed all her preparations for a comfortable sleep, she turned off all the lights except the lamp by the bed and climbed onto the bed, where two pillows were placed.

She pulled the blanket up to her chest and lay down. In the comforting darkness before her eyes, she thought she could hear the ticking sound of the second hand moving.

Tilia felt the heartbeat thumping under the hand she placed on her chest.

Thump, thump. The regular and rapid beats of her heart sounded like someone’s footsteps—or like someone knocking on a door. Every time she fell into such an illusion, her shoulders trembled, and she directed her gaze toward the dim door.

But no matter how many times she looked, the tightly shut door showed no sign of opening.

How long had she been left there under the hazy light?

After a long wait, Tilia’s eyes grew slightly red.

Was it all a delusion? Her lips dried with a sense of needless shame.

Was it truly just a vain hope? Had she misjudged what she felt from his words?

Just when Tilia was biting her lip hard in embarrassment over all her preparations—

Creak. Without the sound of footsteps, without a knock, the door opened.

The man entered like a dream demon.

In one hand, he held a dark red wine bottle and glasses; in the other, a bouquet of flowers.

Even from a distance, Tilia could smell the fragrance coming from Ilex as he crossed the room slowly.

It wasn’t artificial like the one she had poured onto her body. From him, it was the scent of real flowers from the garden.

As if from someone who had just severed the necks of flowers. As if from someone who, in the dark of night, had snuck into a rose garden to commit such cruel, foolish deeds.

“Tilia.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, he approached her bedside and whispered, “You didn’t lock the door.”

Thud. The bouquet he had only been holding loosely without tying it was scattered across the table. Next to the red petals, he placed a wine bottle whose color resembled darkness more than roses.

“So reckless.”

“…Was I supposed to be afraid?”

Tilia mumbled as she watched the droplets of water occasionally fall from his still-damp hair.

“Am I supposed to fear you?”

Ilex slowly turned his head and looked at the woman lying on the bed.

His gaze was vivid, even in the dim light.

The desire boiling beneath the surface of his blue-gray eyes, pressed down and hidden from view, could clearly be seen.

After briefly looking down at her, he let out a low laugh and uncorked the bottle. Dressed lightly, much like her, Ilex tilted the wine bottle in his hand.

“If I waited for the ring to be ready, I thought I might dry up and die.”

Glug, glug. The dark red liquid filled the glass halfway. Tilia, listening to that heavy sound, cautiously sat up.

“You said you wouldn’t sleep with drunk women.”

“I don’t have the leisure to let you drink that much.”

Speaking casually, Ilex placed the glass in Tilia’s hand.

“This is just for appearances.”

Then, was that bouquet just for show too?

Tilia, looking at the lush roses that seemed too extravagant for that, brought the glass to her lips.

Meanwhile, Ilex, after handing her the wine, didn’t even fill his own glass. He only stared at her.

Under his blatantly sweeping gaze, she could already sense what was going to happen next. Her heart wavered with tension, carrying equal parts excitement and fear.

“Ah…”

It even affected the hand holding the glass. Like a child, Tilia ended up spilling the wine, and startled, she hurried to wipe her lips.

But the man’s hand was faster. Having watched her all along, he reached out and wiped her lips faster than she could.

“Before we start, let me just say this.”

Ilex, who lightly wiped the wine off, brought his thumb, now stained with the wine from Tilia’s lips, to his own mouth.

“You were right. I’m not a manwhore.”

His red tongue licked the liquid off his finger. Watching that erotic scene, Tilia thought involuntarily:

Even if he isn’t a manwhore, he could probably become something close to it.

As if he could somehow read her irreverent thought, Ilex perched himself on the edge of the bed. With the weight he brought, the bed rocked heavily.

His gaze was calmly directed at her. Not wanting her trembling heart to be revealed, Tilia forced herself to meet his eyes confidently.

“That’s why… I’m not trying to sleep with you thoughtlessly.”

Ilex spoke in a voice so fragile it seemed it could dissolve with just a sliver of sunlight.

“I’m not sleeping with you just to release pent-up lust or to have a night’s fun.”

“…I know.”

“I’m going to have your future.”

He whispered as he pulled Tilia’s slightly shrinking hand toward him. Pressing their foreheads together, he murmured, as if to make it unmistakably clear.

“I’ll be the man you naturally put beside you. The man you think of first when you’re in pain.”

“……”

“So let me.”

Lowering himself slightly, he whispered in her ear, the scent of roses clinging to his desperate voice.

“Just nod. If you do…”

Intertwining his rough hand with hers, he whispered once more, “Then everything of mine will naturally become yours.”

Even as her body shivered under the heat of his breath, Tilia lowered her head and looked at their hands, feeling an unusual sensation.

It was only after touching that she noticed, due to the dim lighting, that his hands were covered in tiny cuts.

As if he had been scratched by small thorns.

Tilia’s wavering gaze shifted from the wounds on his hands to the roses on the table beside the bed.

The lengths of the stems varied, but the roses themselves were unblemished and beautiful. They were so vivid and fresh, it was as if they were still rooted in the earth.

“Tilia, hmm?”

In the voice that pleaded for an answer, Tilia saw it clearly.

On a night filled with the moon and stars, in a deserted rose garden, a man picking and picking flowers. A man, oblivious to the wounds forming on his hands, searching desperately for the most luscious bloom.

“Tilia…”

When no answer came, the man rubbed his forehead against the nape of her neck in desperation. Tilia suppressed the urge to hug him tightly and slowly raised her hand.

Perhaps thinking she was about to push him away, Ilex’s face twisted in fear—until he saw what she was doing, and went blank.

“There’s no need to make a new ring.”

Tilia pulled out from under her loose nightgown the ring she had been wearing for so long it felt like a part of her.

“I already… have one.”

The butterfly-shaped ring, studded with amethyst, sparkled brilliantly even under the dim light.

She hadn’t expected to be showing it like this.

Gazing at the butterfly that had finally escaped the small world it had been trapped in, Tilia lifted her trembling gaze to look at the man in front of her.

Ah. They were so close, their noses could almost touch. And so, without meaning to, Tilia inevitably met his gaze.

She could clearly see what emotions were flooding into those beautiful blue-gray eyes. She could see the joy spreading across the face she had foolishly believed to be cold.

What resided in those eyes, cradled by thick lashes, was different from any desire or lust she had seen before.

It was pure rapture, utterly untainted. Like the awe of witnessing rain falling at last after a long drought.

In other words… it was love.

As she watched the man trembling finely, Tilia felt an unbearable surge of emotion. Without realizing it, she placed her hand on his cheek. And then she pulled him toward her with all her strength.

As Ilex toppled toward Tilia, their lips met.

That kiss was unlike any other contact they had ever shared.

The feeling of lips parting and tongues intertwining was as stimulating as always, but there was undeniably something different within it this time.

A belief that they were touching each other’s very essence, beyond mere flesh. A desperate desire to hold onto the entirety of the other’s life, breathlessly and fully.

A fulfillment too deep to call happiness, too sorrowful to call sadness.

In other words… without a doubt, it was love.