A Butterfly Through the Mist - Chapter 81

At last. After a long wait, the Supreme Court of Ontaroa finally sent a response regarding the delayed legal amendment.

The court expressed its intention to significantly expand the scope of restraining orders. Additionally, it showed a firm commitment to preventing victims’ personal information from being exposed while establishing protection and support systems.

Of course, behind this unusually swift handling of the amendment were the bribes Ilex had funneled under the guise of donations.

His cousin Iris seemed to believe in the righteousness of the legal community and their commitment to aiding victims. But honestly? The reality was clear—without his bribes, this amendment would never have been approved so quickly.

In her letter, Iris mentioned that even the Ontaroan royal family had granted approval, and the amendment was expected to pass by the summer at the latest. She wrote that they had finally succeeded, that their efforts had paid off.

He scoffed at his cousin’s excessive sentimentality. But to be honest, when Ilex first received the official document from the Supreme Court, he couldn’t put it down for a long time.

It was like holding a fragile newborn chick in his hands—he could almost feel a faint warmth spreading from the paper, traveling up his arms and settling in his chest, making his lips twitch involuntarily.

A document was nothing more than lifeless white paper. So the warmth he felt must have been nothing more than a byproduct of his own imagination.

Now, Tilia Ambrose would finally be able to escape her family. She would reach Ontaroa safely and live the life she wanted.

Beyond the formal, rigidly structured text of the document, an image of Tilia took shape in his mind. The black ink on the page seemed to dance in the air, forming her silhouette.

Surrounded by the sweets she loved so much, reclining against plush cushions, reading a book that wasn’t a textbook.

Basking in the warm sunlight, free from even the smallest shadow of a storm cloud.

For the first time, the idea of Tilia Ambrose truly being at peace became something he could vividly imagine. And sentimentally, he thought—perhaps this was the most meaningful thing he had ever done in his life.

Like water leaking from a cracked cup, laughter unconsciously spilled from his lips.

From the day he received the document guaranteeing Tilia’s freedom, Ilex found himself imagining her life in Ontaroa every single day.

In those visions, she was always at ease. She had never been particularly expressive, so she didn’t smile often. But at the very least, she no longer wore the face of a wild animal constantly aware of lurking predators.

He pictured a well-maintained, orderly home. A beautiful mansion with a garden blooming with flowers of all colors. Like a distant observer, he envisioned her living there, only to suddenly realize something.

Even in his fantasies, he wasn’t by her side. He was merely watching from afar.

But the thought passed as quickly as the bittersweet aftertaste of the chocolate she loved. It didn’t matter. He let his imagination continue without interruption.

What mattered was that she was happy. That she wasn’t crying. Whether he was there or not—

It no longer had any real significance.

Yes, this was enough.

Lying on a bench beneath the pergola by the lake, Ilex let out a soft sigh as he thought of her once more.

Looking back, he realized that he had barely seen the real Tilia this semester, so consumed had he been with securing her escape. The most he had witnessed was her expression of disgust whenever she was unlucky enough to cross paths with Gregory Myers.

He hadn’t loitered near the women’s dormitory as he used to, nor had he covertly followed her routine like some hidden observer.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t wanted to see her. After all, he had once been so lost in thoughts of Tilia that he had gripped a bathroom doorknob too tightly and accidentally broken it.

He had simply been too busy handling multiple problems at once. Too preoccupied with bribing the right people to have time to trail after her like before.

Yet he had no regrets. Because all those efforts had ultimately freed Tilia Ambrose.

Feeling as though he had finally completed his summer homework, Ilex closed his eyes with a heart that had at last relaxed.

For the first time, his grandfather’s words about love being the act of releasing a butterfly made sense.

When this year ended, he would likely never see Tilia again. But that, too, was fine.

Because now, he had someone he could always take out from the depths of his heart whenever he wished. Every time he closed his eyes, he could see a woman with a peaceful smile.

At the thought, a gentle breeze seemed to blow through his heart.

The world beyond his closed eyes was in the midst of a beautiful season, poised between spring and summer.

White butterflies, their wings catching the glimmering sunlight, flitted about the lakeside, while the fresh scent of nature spread like spores in the air.

Lying with his hands clasped behind his head, Ilex drifted off in that sweet season.

And in that light sleep, he had a very amusing dream.

It was a dream completely opposite to what he had been doing before he fell asleep—an utterly absurd dream.

In the dream, the one suffering from the fever of unrequited love was not him, but Tilia Ambrose. The woman who always wore a cold, indifferent expression now looked at him with longing.

Just like him.

Yes. Just like he looked at her.

“…Ilex.”

The dream was a reversed world, a mirror image. In that world, he was the one Tilia pined for, yet at the same time, he played the cruel role of scorning her.

Hearing her anxiously call his name, Ilex found himself thinking with a touch of melancholy.

So this is the power of the beloved. And this is the pitiful look of the one yearning to be loved.

So this is why Tilia… even when I looked at her like that, she still despised me.

“Ilex Davenport.”

Just as he was mechanically parroting back the words Tilia had once hurled at him, assuming her contempt must be as deep as ever, a strange realization dawned on him.

Why did she seem so vividly real, standing there against the light?

The moment the thought struck, unease wrapped around him like a noose.

It wasn’t just the sight of her that felt disturbingly real. The scent of full-bloomed flowers wafting from her—like someone who had sprinted over—was strikingly tangible.

The wrinkles on her gray skirt, uncharacteristically messy for her, the lost, wandering beauty of her green eyes—all of it was unnervingly real.

The instant he sensed that something was off and sat up—

“Do you… want to sleep with me?”

Tilia’s murmured voice crashed into his ears like a bolt of lightning.

It felt like being drenched in ice-cold water. Or maybe like being scalded by boiling liquid.

Whichever it was, one thing was certain—he was utterly unable to process it.

From the moment he realized that the Tilia Ambrose before him was real, his mind went blank. He couldn’t comprehend what expression he was making or what words were coming out of his mouth.

Only one thing registered clearly—she wasn’t in her right mind. Her words and actions were so out of character that they burned themselves into his memory like a brand.

And only then did the meaning of her words finally click in his head.

She had asked if he would sleep with her.

The moment the understanding hit, his dazed thoughts jolted back to life. In an instant, he grasped the reason behind Tilia Ambrose’s unusual behavior.

Her flushed cheeks. Her bloodshot, restless eyes. The unsteady, gasping breath of the woman before him.

There was only one cause for all of this.

That accursed aphrodisiac the lowlifes of high society so often gossiped about.

Someone had given it to her. Some bastard had dared to drug his Tilia.

As a surge of blind fury threatened to consume him, her trembling voice broke through again.

“Answer me. Will you do it, or not?”

Tilia, shivering like a rain-soaked puppy, was saying something so utterly degrading.

Ilex felt his entire being plummet in an instant. As if he had been shoved off a cliff, he plunged into an abyss without end.

Just as he had easily deduced the cause of her erratic behavior, he also quickly grasped the reason she had sought him out in this state.

She had come looking for a man who wouldn’t cause her trouble later.

A man whose company in bed would mean absolutely nothing.

Without warning, a thought surfaced—this was unfair.

I hadn’t even confessed yet. Knowing my heart would be discarded like trash, I never dared to say a word.

So how could even the feelings I had buried be shoved down the drain like filth?

“Hurry up and answer. I need to make a decision.”

But Tilia, oblivious to his turmoil, only continued to press him.

Decision. That word yanked him out of his spiraling grief and humiliation.

Decision—if that was what she meant…

His aimless, stormy blue-gray eyes landed on her tightly clenched fists.

His gaze traced the sweat dripping down her pale hands.

“If I don’t sleep with you…”

As he pieced together the meaning behind her words, his lips moved on their own.

“…are you going to sleep with someone else?”

“What?”

“If I don’t do it, are you going to roll around with another bastard instead?”

Even without looking in a mirror, he knew.

Right now, his expression must be pathetically transparent. He was begging. Pleading with her not to do this. Not to turn to someone else the moment he said no.

“Yes.”

But Tilia mercilessly trampled his desperate plea underfoot.

“I’ll roll around with another guy.”