Maylily - Chapter 6

“What do you mean…”

Maylily, looking as though she’d just been slapped, muttered to herself as she looked at the Count of Everscourt.

“I’m thinking of sending letters wherever you go. I can’t allow the woman who rejected me to become someone else’s singer.”

The man who had ruined Maylily’s present now smiled as he threatened to destroy her future as well. That smile was so refined it sent chills down her spine.

He was a man with the power to mold others’ lives like clay, and he didn’t even seem to feel guilty about it. That threat was no bluff.

Momentarily overwhelmed by the blind obsession of the man before her, Maylily’s throat tightened. The waves of fear rising in her light aquamarine eyes streamed transparently down her small cheeks.

“That will never… never happen. I swear, Count. I mean it!”

Throwing herself down, Maylily knelt before the Count and pleaded through her tears. Yet the man’s picture-perfect face showed not the slightest tremor, only deepening the despair that filled her chest.

“You’ll give in eventually.”

“No. Never. I…”

The sorrow welling up inside choked her words. She feared the sacrifices her family had made for her over the years and the dream she had nurtured day and night would all turn to nothing. Singing was what she loved most, and the only hope that her life might one day shine.

“Don’t cry, Maylily Aile.”

The Count, seated and quietly gazing down at Maylily, took out a neatly folded handkerchief from his breast pocket and held it out.

“I’m not particularly weak to a woman’s tears, so it won’t do you any good. Besides, it’s a waste to shed useless tears.”

With a tone as gentle as if soothing a child, the man spoke words colder than ice. That same beautiful smile lingered on his lips. He looked like a devil wearing the face of an angel.

If she displeased this devil, another disaster would surely follow. With trembling hands, Maylily took the handkerchief he offered. As she forced back her sobs and wiped away her tears, a voice like a feather fell softly at her ear once more.

“I always get what I want. So shall we stop wasting time?”

Realizing that she could no longer expect mercy or compassion from the man before her, she found it easier to regain her composure. Her tears finally ceased, and Maylily turned her eyes to the window.

The city of Roden, now as familiar as her hometown, looked like a stranger from here. The tall buildings and large trees she always looked up at now seemed tiny, like models, and the distant sky appeared close enough to touch.

This breathtakingly new view, Count Everscourt had likely seen it countless times from this very seat.

To a man like him, looking down on the world was second nature. And Maylily was merely a small part of that world he looked down upon.

Realizing that, she resigned herself to the new reality the Count had forced into her hands. Her breath grew calm for a moment, and her eyes once again met the man’s cold, beautiful face.

“I accept your offer, Count. But… will you promise me just one thing?”

When the Count gave a slight nod, Maylily took a deep breath and spoke slowly, praying he would be an honorable gentleman who kept his word.

“Please… promise me you won’t ever force me into bed.”

“My singer seems to be quite confident in her own sexual allure.”

At another time, Maylily might have blushed under his mocking tone, but now she met his gaze with steady, unwavering eyes. This matter was that important and serious to her.

After staring at her determined expression for a moment, the Count set aside his smirk and said, “Alright, I promise.”

***

Under the white smoke scattering beyond the window, the woman who had left the office a few minutes ago appeared. Emerging from the long porch stretching out in front of the hotel building, she walked slowly and sat weakly on a bench by the fountain.

Her clothes were so plain they were almost boring, but her hair gleamed a vivid gold, as if absorbing all the light around her. Hugh, staring quietly at the woman’s face half-hidden behind the fringe fluttering in the breeze, exhaled a long trail of cigar smoke above the figure now no bigger than a finger.

“Maylily Aile.”

White lily of the valley.

Hugh suddenly thought the name that slipped out unconsciously suited the woman perfectly. ‘Aile’ was a surname derived from an archaic word for white.

“Hello, Count. Thank you for sparing time despite my sudden visit.”

Finally stepping into his territory, the woman’s cheeks were pale and smooth like flower petals. Her clear blue eyes, transparent like dewdrops, gleamed brightly. A beautiful woman with a bare face that radiated the pure and delicate aura of a white lily of the valley.

At their first meeting, the woman was a courtesan on stage. At their second, she was a waitress in a restaurant. And now, at their third meeting, she was finally the abandoned daughter of Victor Heywood.

Beautiful, pitiful, and insignificant—Maylily Aile.

A woman all the more detestable for having the innocent face of someone who knew nothing of the world’s ugliness, despite being born to such a wretched man.

But still, the woman was innocent.

Even reminding himself of this fact countless times was not enough to suppress the sadism that rose like dust.

Hugh raked his eyes over her as if seeing her for the first time, wanting to crush her in his hands. He knew his gaze would instill shame in her, which only made him more tenacious and deliberate.

Her round, high-bridged nose like a budding flower, the small mole below her plump lips, the slender wrist peeking from a worn sleeve, the curve visible over her coat—Hugh observed each feature before suddenly recalling the full, white breasts that had more than filled his hands.

Indeed, if she were dressed in a gown that accentuated her sensual figure, starkly contrasting her innocent face, and thrown onto the marriage market, she would fetch a significant sum regardless of her humble origins.

Victor Heywood had missed out on that high-quality product right under his nose. And now, according to Hugh’s plan, that product would soon bear a fatal flaw.

What kind of expression would Victor Heywood wear when faced with the whole truth about the daughter he’d found too late?

One thing was certain: Maylily Aile, with her beautiful face so reminiscent of Heywood’s, would become the misfortune that marked the finale of Heywood’s miserable life.

The sense of loss and fury that would consume him—thinking he’d been robbed of money he could’ve seized through his perfectly blossomed daughter, money that was never truly his to begin with—would be devastating. Mistaking what almost made it into his pocket for what had actually done so was a common error among those who chased vain luck.

With the smoke that had briefly clouded his view, the thoughts scattered and vanished. The woman still sat in the same position, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. She seemed to be finally shedding the tears she had suppressed in front of Hugh.

“I’ll wash and return the handkerchief.”

Considering what she had just endured, she should’ve torn the handkerchief to shreds instead. Her eyes and nose reddened, she sniffled and spoke with a face full of debt toward Hugh before leaving the office.

Today’s meeting had told Hugh that the woman was obedient and gentle. Unlike her appearance, not even a sliver of her father’s nature could be found in her personality. If she had been a depraved opportunist like her father, things would have been much simpler.

Things just got a little troublesome.

As Hugh narrowed his brow slightly and brought the cigar to his lips, the woman, having folded the handkerchief and put it in her pocket, suddenly looked up at the window where he stood. Facing the sunlight pouring in from behind the hotel, her eyes narrowed for a moment, then returned to their original shape.

“……”

Hugh stopped drawing from the cigar and met her gaze. Her eyes, receiving the intense afternoon light without the shade of a hand, sparkled like stars at his feet.

At last, recognizing Hugh, the woman slowly closed and opened her eyes. Contrary to his expectation that she would look away in embarrassment, she unexpectedly brought her hands together politely and gave him a respectful nod.

“Ha…”

Just as a low chuckle escaped the lips parted around the cigar, the woman’s bold words echoed in his mind.

“Please… promise me you won’t ever force me into bed.”

Her naive boldness, trying to bind him with a promise that held no weight, had been absurd, but Hugh had gladly agreed. After all, it wasn’t his task to make her open her legs.

It wasn’t until the well-mannered woman, who had taken him by surprise, exited the hotel grounds and disappeared behind the roadside trees that the ember at the end of Hugh’s loosely held cigar began to glow red again.

As troublesome as it had become, it promised to be rather entertaining.