A Butterfly Through the Mist - Chapter 92

She still didn’t know why she hadn’t been able to return the ring in the end. If she was going to keep something, she should’ve kept the money instead. Why keep something she couldn’t even sell, clinging to it like lingering regret?

But Tilia knew that even if she went back in time, she still wouldn’t have been able to return it.

In truth, there had been several times when she had placed the ring into an envelope and walked all the way to the post office. Once, she had even gone so far as to affix a stamp and officially hand it over.

But in the end, Tilia couldn’t send the ring. She begged the clerk to cancel the delivery and got it back.

It felt like some instinct had warned her. That if she sent even this away, her connection with him would be severed completely. That nothing would remain with her to remember him by.

After that, Tilia gave in slightly to resignation, threading the ring through a thin chain and wearing it around her neck as a necklace.

‘Would he even remember? That he once tossed this to me.’

Absentmindedly tracing the butterfly shape that rested on her chest, Tilia recalled the man she had seen today.

The Ilex Davenport she saw again felt like someone who didn’t even know what a flaw was. The faint anxiety or instability he had exuded during their academy days was now utterly gone.

The man he had become, now holding such a lofty title, seemed like a boulder unshaken no matter how she tried to push. Like a wall too high to ever climb.

‘Even if I returned it now… he wouldn’t accept it.’

With a faintly sorrowful face, Tilia let her hand fall from the butterfly ring.

In truth, there had been so much she had wanted to say. After accepting that he would never be connected to her again, that their nights in the academy were nothing more than a fleeting first love that would never return—she had rehearsed over and over what she might say to him, like pouring disinfectant over a wound.

The words she had spent so long organizing were painfully predictable: Thank you. I’m sorry. And… because of you, I was able to survive, even like this.

But when she finally saw him again, she hadn’t said a single one of them. All she had offered was a shallow greeting—“It was nice seeing you.”

That’s what stung the most. She had wanted to say those things. She had really wanted to tell him. She had wanted to end this love beautifully.

‘Who was I to think that.’

Muttering the self-deprecating line she had promised herself she wouldn’t say anymore, Tilia looked up at the fading sunset in the distance.

Whether she was hurting or not, the sky moved on with its business, just as flowers bloomed and withered.

The indifference of nature, which had once made her feel unbearably lonely, oddly comforted her today.

The sun will set and rise again. Spring will end, and winter will come. Nothing can defy time, so even this sadness and sorrow will eventually scatter like dust.

Watching the sun sink beneath the horizon, Tilia made another impulsive decision.

I’ll have some ice cream. A sweet, mouth-numbing cone topped with every kind of sugary topping.

Though there were no glamorous buildings or grand department stores like in the city center, there was still a modest plaza where small shops gathered.

At the edge of that square, where an old fountain gurgled, stood a dessert shop that Tilia frequented. Or rather, not quite a dessert shop, but more like a small general store that sold snacks and newspapers.

What mattered was that she really liked the ice cream there.

It had been a rough day. She deserved this little indulgence.

Salivating at the thought of the slightly overpriced treat, Tilia swallowed hard.

Today, I’m putting every topping on it. I’ll eat two—no, three scoops.

With greedy resolve, her shoes turned not toward home, but toward the square. Her steps were confident, like a general marching to war.

***

The street lined with shops wasn’t far from the coach stop.

Striding with determined urgency, she quickly arrived at the plaza, which was bustling with the usual cheerful noise.

The playful shrieks of children following their mothers to market. The laughter of women chatting in groups. The lively voices of merchants starting their evening sales.

The clamor buzzed in her ears, yet oddly gave her a sense of reassurance.

And there he was.

The man who had made her miserable all day—Ilex Davenport.

Tilia stood frozen, staring dazedly at the man who seemed to shine, out of place, like he had been cut from a different painting and pasted into this one.

Why is Ilex Davenport here? He should be in the palace. In a high-end department store in the city center. Not… not in this shabby part of town where I live.

Above, the sun was setting larger than usual. In its brilliant light, even the transparent droplets in the air looked like orange juice pearls.

In a world dyed entirely in scarlet, the man sat with his back to a small fountain spouting dark orange water.

Among the countless people filling the square with noise, he alone stood out.

Even the bench he sat on and the fountain vanished. Even the sunset illuminating him faded. And so, only he remained.

Only the man who had toyed with Tilia’s heart all day long.

Tilia lost both her direction and her purpose. She simply stood there, staring at him.

Even the momentary question of why he was there vanished in the presence of his existence. The view before her eyes looked like a painting where everything else had been blurred to draw only him in sharp focus.

Is it only me who sees it this way? As if possessed, does he appear with this overwhelming presence only in my eyes?

But that question didn’t need to be asked.

She didn’t even have to turn her head. Just a slight shift of her gaze was enough.

Everyone around Ilex Davenport was looking at him.

Even the housewives out shopping and the children holding their hands were glancing at him. It was obvious they were curious about this noble-looking man but didn’t dare speak to him, awed by his dignified demeanor.

What should I do? Should I approach him, or…

The moment Tilia hesitated, unable to decide quickly because of the attention she would attract the instant she approached—

It was just then that the man who had been sitting there indifferently, seemingly uninterested in anything around him, checked his watch and began to look around as if searching for something.

His gaze swept lightly across the far side of the square, then slowly turned toward where she stood. And just like in the corridor earlier today, their eyes met.

The moment their gazes connected, she realized. That all the attention she had worried about was just a baseless fear.

In that instant their eyes met—when he looked straight at her—all the surrounding gazes vanished, as if sucked into a drain.

She could only see him rising slowly after spotting her. Everything else faded, like it had been erased with a rubber, leaving only him.

Elegantly—but with a slight urgency, like when she walked toward ice cream—he came toward her.

There was no greeting. He simply gazed at her quietly. Tilia, too, simply looked at him. At the sight of the scarlet sky unfolding over his beautiful face.

Suddenly, a sense of danger swept over her.

This man is still too dangerous. He shines too brightly. He won’t be mine. He won’t come back into my arms, and yet he’s so beautiful…

Just as Tilia stared at that stunning face with a faint sense of despair—

Ilex’s elegant face tilted slightly.

“Nice place you live in.”

…What?

It took her a moment to realize it was a jab.

As she stared up at him blankly, a slow crack formed between her brows. Reality crept back in, and the surrounding noise returned to her ears.

“Good security, impressive neighbors.”

“……”

“You liked tall buildings? If I’d known, I would’ve bought you the tallest one.”

Only after hearing his sarcastic words did Tilia realize he was mocking her for not living in the house he had bought her—and doing it with full force.

There was a deep crease between his brows. Though he seemed to want to hide his rising anger, it spread across his face like water leaking from a cracked pot.

Seeing that surly face, to her own surprise, a laugh burst out of her like a spark.

…A laugh? Now? The man before her wore an expression that said he couldn’t believe it. But Tilia couldn’t hold back the chuckle spilling from her lips.

For the first time today, he felt like the man she used to know. A strange familiarity and comfort bloomed deep in her heart.

She had thought he’d changed so much. That she could no longer find any trace of the past in him.

But seeing him throw this kind of tantrum—she realized that wasn’t quite true.

In that sullen face, she could glimpse the boy he once was.

The one who could never quite hide his feelings. Who was always steeped in subtle anxiety and unease. Who suffered from a feverish love.

Of course, he was surely different now.

But Tilia, who found traces—faint though they were—of the man who had once loved her so intensely, let out a soft sigh and stopped laughing.

Ilex, who had been silently studying her as if trying to gauge her intent, furrowed his brow slightly deeper.

“Even if you laugh like that, it won’t…”

“Want some ice cream?”

Like the earlier laugh, the words came out sooner than she intended.