The Cursed Beast Caught My Leash - Chapter 45

“…Islay?”

“I’m listening.”

“You said before that you can play the harpsichord, right?”

“Yes.”

“Who taught you how to play it?”

“Do you really think I had a teacher who would teach me how to play such a refined instrument?”

At his amused question, Stella, who was walking quickly beside him, glanced up at him. His gaze, which had been directed forward, shifted slightly to meet hers.

Their eyes met, and just like the countless times before, his red eyes shone like noble rubies.

A sudden gust of wind blew, lifting his black hair and exposing his well-shaped forehead. His straight eyebrows, prominent nose, and sharply defined jawline all gave him an unmistakably striking appearance.

“…That’s impressive! That means you’re self-taught.”

Stella, who had been admiring him as if she were in a trance, quickly found a flattering way to phrase it before Islay could call himself a lowlife again. Despite his impeccable appearance, whenever he opened his mouth, he often came across as a cunning rascal.

Sometimes, he acted like a gentle protector, while other times, he seemed like an innocent boy.

He truly was multifaceted. How did he see her in his eyes? Could he ever see her as a reasonably decent woman?

“You said you also carve wood by hand, right? Did you learn that on your own too?”

“I did.”

“That’s amazing. I’m terrible with anything that involves using my hands. I couldn’t even dream of teaching myself something like that.”

“You do have one skill, though. A sophisticated one that you mastered on your own.”

“Me?”

Was there something like that? Stella, who had been rolling her eyes, quickly realized what he was referring to.

“Oh, no way.”

She sighed quietly, and Islay let out a low chuckle.

“You’re good at making cute little accessories out of flowers, aren’t you?”

“Well…”

As her face reddened and she averted her eyes, he leaned down slightly to meet her gaze.

“Why are you embarrassed? Not too long ago, you showed it to me so confidently.”

“It’s hard to answer easily when someone asks what you’re good at.”

“Do you hate being treated like a child?”

Well, if she had to find a reason, it was probably that. After all, it wasn’t like the elegant art of arranging flowers in a vase. It was more like playing pretend, just as Islay had mentioned.

Stella kept silent, not wanting to give a clear answer. For some reason, the question didn’t leave her feeling entirely happy.

After a moment, she lifted her gaze again, feeling a bit impulsive.

“So, by the way, could you show me?”

Islay hesitated for a moment. This time, he was the one who kept silent.

“The wooden carvings you made. There must be quite a few. I’d love to see them.”

“……”

“Would that be too much to ask?”

“I’ve gathered the finished pieces in one place.”

“…Oh, really? Then does that mean you could show them to me?”

“They’re on the top floor of the tower where I stay.”

The tower. Though it was located within the castle walls of the Ice Castle, it stood alone in isolation. It was the place where Islay had confined himself.

Only after a long silence did Stella realize what it meant that he had stored his carvings there. Her arms and legs started moving simultaneously, as if in sync.

“I’ve never had a guest in the tower before. I’ve always stayed there alone.”

“Well… yes, I suppose that makes sense.”

“But do you still want to see them?”

There was no longer any clear intention of setting up a barrier in his voice, unlike before. Stella embraced the courage that surged up within her once more, determined to accept this rare opportunity.

Someday, this moment would only remain in her distant memories. If not now, when would she ever get the chance to indulge her curiosity?

“Yes, I’d love to. If it’s alright with you, I’d really like to take a look.”

“…Alright then.”

Islay nodded after a brief pause. For a moment, there was a subtle hesitation that didn’t seem like him. She couldn’t quite figure out why he had hesitated.

With Stella in tow, Islay led the way, changing direction toward the tower.

When they reached the lone tower, Stella couldn’t help but be surprised. The tower, made entirely of gray stone, had a sturdy latch on the entrance that could accommodate several locks.

There were also guards stationed there, creating an atmosphere that felt more like a prison meant for dangerous criminals than a living space. The guards standing in front of the door were anything but ordinary men.

‘He spends every night here…?’

Stella had known that Islay confined himself in the tower, but seeing it with her own eyes was a different experience altogether.

While Stella was still reeling from the shock, Islay casually stepped inside and spoke to the guard standing at the entrance.

“Don’t lock the door. My guest won’t be staying long.”

“Yes!”

“Estella, come in.”

Stella, startled by the loud response of the guard, hurriedly ran over to Islay’s outstretched hand. Behind her, the door closed with a heavy thud, but there was no sound of a lock clicking into place.

With curious golden eyes, Stella carefully took in her surroundings.

The spacious first-floor hall resembled a sitting room. There was a fireplace that had long since gone cold, and in front of it were two sofas facing each other across a low table.

Though the room was minimally decorated, it was still a large space furnished with the essentials. Yet, it felt eerily cold, as if no one had come or gone from this place in a long time.

There was no one serving in Islay’s tower. It was hard to believe that this was where the man who ruled over such a vast land spent his time.

“This way.”

Stella, who had been looking around, followed Islay up the stairs as he led the way.

Their destination was the top floor of the tower. After climbing the long staircase, they finally reached the top, and Stella, slightly out of breath, tried to steady herself.

The fresh smell of the breeze, which entered through the window at dawn, mixed with the unique, intoxicating scent that seemed to linger around him. Stella breathed deeply, savoring the air.

‘…Oh.’

This was Islay’s bedroom as well.

Stella, who had been watching Islay wash his hands in a basin near the stairs, turned her head away. Her gaze instantly fell on the large bed in the corner of the room.

The four-poster bed was draped with sheer white curtains, and she couldn’t help but imagine the man lying comfortably there.

She quickly averted her gaze, feeling the weight of the realization that she was in his private space, alone with him.

At that moment, Islay approached her, now dressed only in a dark tunic, having removed his cloak and bloodstained armor.

He walked past her and toward a wall with no door. Stella followed him lightly on her feet.

They entered a large space connected to the bedroom.

Stella glanced around as moonlight poured in through a latticed window.

There was a variety of wooden furniture, including a dark red harpsichord. Unlike the stark, minimalistic first-floor hall or the bedroom they had just left, this room felt like a space where someone immersed in artistic pursuits spent their time.

A large desk was cluttered with small knives, chisels, and wood carvings. On one side of the wall was a bookshelf filled with all kinds of books.

Stella instinctively realized that this was Islay’s most private space.

Her attention was drawn to a large brass bowl placed on top of a dresser. The bowl was filled with various wooden carvings.

They ranged from perfectly rounded spheres to polyhedrons made from dozens of small pieces of wood fitted together, and even chess pieces.

Stella’s gaze lingered particularly on the intricately carved figure of a wolf and a ring engraved with geometric patterns. Each piece was a masterpiece of craftsmanship.

“Did you carve all of these yourself?”

“With a pocketknife.”

“Wow… that’s really amazing.”

Stella marveled at the carvings, her eyes sparkling as she looked up at Islay, who stood leaning against the desk with a cigarette between his lips.

His cool demeanor and well-trained physique had led her to believe he was only good at breaking things, but in addition to reading and playing instruments, he was also skilled in woodworking. He had more refined hobbies than she had expected.

She suddenly felt embarrassed about the time she had shown him the flower hairpin she had made from baby’s breath.

“May I touch these?”

“Feel free. They’ll all be burned eventually anyway.”

Stella, who had been about to reach for the carvings, turned around in shock.

“Burn them? Why?”

“They don’t mean much to me.” His dry reply came with a puff of smoke. “Whenever the bowl fills up, I toss them into the fireplace instead of firewood.”

“…But they’re so beautiful! It would be such a waste to burn them.”

She couldn’t believe such delicate works of art would end up as ashes. Stella’s eyebrows furrowed with disbelief.

Some of the carvings, especially the wolf’s face, were so realistic that they tugged at her heart.