Time of the Blind Beast - Chapter 11

“My age…?” Startled, Rose blinked her eyes wide in surprise.

Ezekiel smirked slightly. “Who else would I be asking?”

Rose was reminded of just how little interest Ezekiel had in his servants. She had already disclosed her name, age, and hometown to Madam Serva when she was first hired at the mansion.

“I’m nineteen years old.”

As she answered, Rose swallowed a wave of unease. Ezekiel was investigating a young woman in her late teens to early twenties. She fits that description perfectly, and she couldn’t predict what kind of feelings this fact might stir in him.

Perhaps suspicion.

Perhaps disgust.

Perhaps discomfort.

Perhaps…

“You haven’t graduated by nineteen?”

But Ezekiel’s question focused on something else entirely.

Rose had been one of the oldest students at her school. It wasn’t her fault, but she still felt embarrassed.

Her tongue fumbled slightly. “…Yes, I enrolled late… And then, because of the tuition fees…”

“Doesn’t it bother you that you won’t be graduating now either?”

Rose quickly shook her head. The thick headscarf wrapped around her hair rustled noisily.

“No, not at all. Not even a little.”

She emphasized the last words, putting extra force behind them.

Ezekiel’s expression remained mostly neutral. His unfocused eyes slowly drifted around her, making Rose feel uneasy as no eye contact was made, no matter how long she stared.

“What do you look like?”

Just as she was following his empty gaze, an unexpected question came her way again.

“Pardon?”

“You said you saw me at Milena Girls’ School. I vaguely remember the battle you mentioned, but I don’t recall the faces of the students at all.”

“Oh…”

That made sense. Rose remembered him because the sight of an officer leading from the front had left a strong impression. Rose could confidently say that both the teachers and students had stared at Ezekiel in awe.

Even though they had squinted their eyes to barely make out his features from such a far distance, they had been watching him intently. Meanwhile, he had been too busy leading his troops to notice the students clinging to the windows and rooftop.

“I have an ordinary face.”

Ezekiel chuckled softly. “I can’t tell if you’re being humble or deceitful. Serva never misses a chance to praise you, saying you’re a pretty, kind, and diligent girl.”

Rose’s mouth went dry. To him, it might have been a casual remark, but for Rose, who was hiding the truth, every word felt like a probe, making her anxious. Like a guilty person constantly on edge, she couldn’t help but feel nervous.

She tried to maintain her composure.

“Madam must have been overly generous in her assessment.”

“Shall I confirm for myself whether that’s true?”

His tone was flat, devoid of inflection, and his words made Rose falter for a moment. She wasn’t hesitating because she remembered how coldly he had explored every inch of her body before. Back then, it had been her own suggestion to be searched in order to clear his suspicion, and she had already resolved to endure whatever came her way…

More than anything, she knew she had no rights in this situation. No right to feel wronged, no right to be afraid, no right to feel humiliated. She had no rights at all when it came to him.

Because she was the one responsible for turning his life into ruins.

But now, another worry held her back.

Could he recognize her face just by touch?

Rose quickly closed her eyes and felt her own face with her hands. She traced the bones, the shape of her eyebrows, and the bridge of her nose, from between her brows down to her nostrils.

Suddenly, she let out a bitter laugh. She was acting suspiciously right in front of him, yet he had no idea. If this wasn’t deception, then what was?

Caught in this strange sense of self-loathing, Rose took a step closer to him.

Sensing her movement, the man’s hand reached out into the air. Rose gently placed her face within reach of his hand.

This time, unlike when he had searched her body with cold detachment, his touch had a different purpose. His warm fingers began to trace the outline of her face slowly, gently.

“Is this your cheek?”

“Yes,” Rose answered softly.

Ezekiel’s hand glided over her soft skin at a slow pace. It would be impossible to map out the exact details of her face by touch alone. Only a gifted artist or sculptor could achieve such a feat, like the great artist who had once said he merely uncovered the form hidden within the marble.

Still, there were new details to be felt—details that he hadn’t paid much attention to before.

Her face was small, fitting neatly into his hand, with smooth, soft skin. Her earlobes were plump, round, and almost inviting to touch. Her eyelashes fluttered lightly, tickling his palm, and her breath, steady and slow, moved through her closed lips.

Then, his hand brushed against her forehead, and suddenly, her headscarf slipped off. Her neatly tied hair fell loose all at once.

The silky strands lightly brushed against the back of his hand. He grabbed a handful of her hair.

“Your hair is long.”

He had known it was long, but it exceeded his expectations. A large portion of her hair slipped through his hand before he finally let it go.

“It’s easier to wear a headscarf when my hair is long and tied up.”

“What color is it?”

Her heart skipped a beat.

Rose cast a sidelong glance at her brown hair.

“If your hair weren’t red, I might have suspected you as the culprit.”

Madam Serva had once said her hair was red.

But unlike the usual brown hair with yellow undertones, Rose’s hair had a purplish hue mixed into its brown. While most people, including Ezekiel, would call it brown, some might describe it as reddish-brown. However, it was still far from what most people considered “red hair.”

Had Madam Serva simply mistaken the color in the dark of night, or did she genuinely struggle to distinguish colors properly?

There had been a student like that at Milena Girls’ School. A girl who saw the world in different shades.

That girl’s condition had been discovered by chance, and she hadn’t even realized her vision differed from others until her friends pointed it out. To her, her sight had always seemed perfectly normal.

It was possible.

It was entirely possible that Madam Serva had made the same mistake.

“My hair color is…”

Suddenly, her pulse raced ominously.

“…I’m investigating the young woman you mentioned—a beauty in her late teens to early twenties with brown hair and hazel eyes.”

Her lips wouldn’t move.

If he asked about her hair color, the next question would surely be about the color of her eyes. After all, these were the two features that most clearly identified a person.

“Lord Ezekiel even saw the woman’s face, but there’s no way for him to describe her now. How tormenting it must be, knowing the culprit might be right under his nose.”

She had already revealed her age.

He now had a nineteen-year-old woman with brown hair and hazel eyes right in front of him. If he had let it slide earlier, would he do so again this time?

“Do you know who ruined my eyes? It was a maid just like you.”

This was her chance to atone.

For the first time, she was seeing a softer side of the man.

For the first time, they were having a proper conversation.

“…It’s red.”

The answer escaped her lips, almost unconsciously.

If he were to ask anyone about her, it would be Madam Serva. Ezekiel rarely spoke with anyone else in the mansion.

“If your hair is red, does that mean your eyes are green? That combination is fairly common.”

Her heart pounded painfully in her chest.

“Yes.”

“So that’s why your name is Rose.”

He didn’t question her further. In fact, he seemed somewhat intrigued.

Rose nodded in silence. She couldn’t open her mouth, afraid her voice might tremble if she did.

A lie had begun.