Odalisque - Chapter 113

The muzzle of the gun pressed hard against his scar-covered abdomen. Liv, her expression pale, parted her trembling lips.

“Why…”

His rage was strange.

Chasing after his runaway mistress all the way to distant Adelinde was already beyond her comprehension. Driving her to the point of exhaustion, denying her proper rest for days—fine, he had always desired her body, so that much made sense.

But offering his own body to the muzzle of a gun, such an extreme act, was simply beyond reason.

“What do you want?”

“You.”

The response came quickly, as if in answer to a question posed only to herself.

“You, alive.”

Liv, staring blankly at the muzzle, slowly raised her gaze. Dimus’ face was cold and hardened, reflecting her bewilderment.

Seeing her expression, Dimus twisted his lips. “So weak. To think you actually managed to bury a bullet in that bastard’s leg with a temperament like yours.”

“…Who?”

“Your old lover.”

The words weren’t difficult to understand, yet she couldn’t make sense of them.

Old lover?

After some time, Liv finally recalled the person she had shot recently. She had only shot a human being once, so naturally, Dimus must have been referring to Jacques Karin.

But what puzzled her was why he was describing Jacques as her old lover.

“Someone said that Marquis Dietrion’s mistress ran away because she missed her old flame.”

“An old lover? I never had one.”

“Of course not, since you’re far too valuable for someone like me to afford. No one could ever match your standards.”

Liv’s expression hardened at his cutting sarcasm. She moistened her lips with her tongue before speaking in a weary voice, “If your anger subsides, will you let me go?”

“I’ve already told you how to escape.”

Dimus still had a firm grip on her hand.

“Shoot.”

Liv bit her lip hard. An incomprehensible surge of anger welled up inside her.

“Do you really think I could do that?”

“Can’t you?”

Dimus genuinely seemed confused.

“You managed to do it to Jacques Karin. You could do the same now.”

“Do you think you and he are the same?”

“How are we different? You ran away from me so easily.”

Liv could hear the resentment and accusation in his words. It was more than the anger of someone losing their possession—it was almost like the fury of someone who had been abandoned.

Abandoned. Not once while running away had Liv ever thought of it as abandoning him. He wasn’t someone she could abandon. If anything, it would have been he who abandoned her.

She was angry. It was Dimus who had defined their relationship, wielding it however he pleased. And yet here he was, acting like he was the one who had been wronged, as if she had somehow controlled him.

“If you were anything like him, I wouldn’t have run away.”

Her voice carried resentment.

“If I’d felt nothing for you, like I did for him, I could have shot you just as easily.”

Smack!

Liv forcefully shook off his hand, tossing the gun she had been holding to the floor. Gritting her teeth, she looked up at Dimus.

“I ran because I couldn’t handle it.”

He was the one who hurt her, so how could he resent her as if he were the one wounded?

The anger she felt rose naturally.

“You’re the one who told me to know my place, Marquis.”

That’s why she had tried to know her place and give up her desires. She had to leave him because she couldn’t do it while staying by his side.

Liv’s emotions spilled out, and her breathing quickened. Always having suppressed her feelings made expressing even this small amount of emotion difficult and overwhelming.

Trying to regain control of herself, she took a deep breath, but Dimus caught her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze.

“I told you to get angry.”

“How could I…”

“I’ll accept it.”

She bit her trembling lip hard, but the pain did nothing to help her control her emotions. Her vision blurred, and tears rolled down her cheeks.

“Do you…”

Do you like me? Or… do you love me?

Once, those questions had come easily to her lips, but now they felt unbearably heavy, impossible to voice. Unlike before, when she had no expectations, she now longed for a particular answer.

Once again, Dimus was by her side at the moment she needed him most.

At the moment she wanted to resent him.

***

How could so much water come from a person’s body?

Liv cried until she eventually fainted. Thierry, who had been waiting outside the mansion, examined her and explained that exhaustion from the journey, combined with not eating properly for days, had severely weakened her health.

“Is it serious?”

“She just needs plenty of rest and good food. It doesn’t seem like she lived well during her travels.”

“…She barely slept, and she hardly ate.”

Corida responded in a sullen voice, glancing at Liv. She looked at her sister, lying pale in bed, and then slowly turned to Dimus.

It was practically Corida’s first time confronting Dimus face-to-face. She had seen him from afar and read plenty of reports about him, but that was all.

Corida flinched when she met Dimus’ cold eyes, yet she seemed to have something to say, her lips moving hesitantly. She appeared to struggle for a long time before finally looking at Dimus with a determined expression.

“My sister is worth much more.”

She was trying to sound threatening, but Dimus found it more pathetic than anything else.

When Dimus didn’t respond and simply stared at her, Corida spoke again in a firm voice.

“I’m always on my sister’s side.”

“Isn’t that only natural?”

Dimus frowned, his voice icy.

“She raised you, dedicating her entire life. It would be a shame if you didn’t recognize that.”

“I would never forget her sacrifice, but even if I did, how would that concern you, Marquis? This is between me and my sister.”

Clearly, she was Liv Rodaise’s sister.

Dimus’ irritation flared at Corida’s insolent response. Thierry, sensing the rising tension, gently pulled Corida away.

“Let’s let the patient rest.”

At least Thierry was perceptive enough.

As Dimus was thinking this, Corida stubbornly retorted, “Just me? What about him?”

“The Marquis will leave on his own.”

“Why should I leave and trust that he’ll leave too?”

Corida’s eyes widened. It seemed that while she had willingly surrendered when confronted by Adolf, she still didn’t trust Dimus at all.

It made sense. Corida had been anxiously waiting outside while Dimus and Liv stayed secluded in the mansion for days. When the doors finally opened, Liv had fainted, and the mansion was a wreck. Of course, Corida was shocked.

Not that understanding her feelings meant Dimus intended to treat her kindly.

“I suppose your sister didn’t tell you who kept you alive?”

Dimus asked coldly, and Corida visibly tensed. She couldn’t deny that she owed her life to his help.

With her mouth tightly shut, Corida eventually muttered in a shaky voice, “I’ll repay it.”

The distrust and wariness in her eyes had softened slightly, but her determination remained.

“I’ll succeed and repay everything, so don’t use me to threaten my sister!”

“Take her out.”

“If you make my sister suffer, I won’t stand by!”

Thierry let out a pained sigh as he pulled Corida away. Her loud voice made Dimus’ head throb, and he clicked his tongue in annoyance. Once the door closed behind Corida and Thierry, the room finally quieted down.

Dimus habitually reached for a cigar but then paused.

Liv lay quietly asleep on the bed. She had always moved quietly, but now even her breathing was so faint that he had to listen closely to hear it.

He used to like how she moved with almost no presence, but now the silence bothered him. He wanted her to wake up soon, to cry or shout or do anything to break the stillness.

“What do you want?”

He had answered that he wanted her, but that answer felt insufficient. This desire was different from the other items he had hoarded in the basement.

“You’re the one who told me to know my place, Marquis.”

Philip had been right. His treatment of her was already far beyond what one should show a mistress. It was even more inappropriate than how one might treat a prostitute.

Dimus ran his fingers over Liv’s gaunt cheek and bit his tongue.

He wanted to know.

“If you were anything like him, I wouldn’t have run away.”

What made him different from Jacques Karin?

“If I’d felt nothing for you, like I did for him, I could have shot you just as easily.”

What was the name of the emotion she felt?

If he could hear that answer, maybe he could finally name his own emotions too.