Time of the Blind Beast - Chapter 43

Winter was far off, but summer was near. There might still be a chance to pick fruit and make compote. She hoped so. If luck held, maybe they could make chestnut jam in the fall, and in winter…

No. No. The moment she let her guard down, her thoughts wandered selfishly.

For her to remain at the estate in summer, fall, and even winter would mean that his treatment had shown no progress through multiple seasons. Or worse, it had failed.

Rose chastised herself.

Don’t be selfish. Don’t be greedy. Haven’t you committed enough sins already?

“Why summer?”

“Summer, well… don’t make the swing. A maid swinging for fun doesn’t make sense.”

It had just been a small mutter to herself, but Ezekiel, with his sharp ears, caught even that brief, whispered phrase.

Rose hastily scrambled for an excuse.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“It just wouldn’t look right. I’m here to work, after all.”

Ezekiel tilted his head.

That couldn’t be right. Rose wasn’t simply one of the hired staff here to do chores. Even for the others who were, he had never interfered with how they spent their leisure time, as long as the estate’s schedule ran smoothly.

Besides, just imagining the red-haired girl with her hair cascading down, sitting on a swing adorned with flowers and feeling the breeze made something twist pleasantly in his stomach. It would be a lovely sight. Sometimes, Rose’s sense of delicacy was hard to understand.

Still, after some thought, Ezekiel decided to accept her opinion. The garden was poorly maintained and chaotic; a swing here would only add to the desolation.

And with snow in winter, rain in spring and summer, Derosa’s outdoors weren’t exactly appealing.

It would be better to surprise her with it later, after they had moved to a new estate.

He would bring the large spruce and sturdy apricot tree they’d tied the rope to and plant them in the new garden. He wanted to decorate the area with fruit trees and flowers and hang the swing himself. He’d shape and sand the wood, measure the height to suit Rose’s frame, and tie strong ropes. There, she wouldn’t be a maid anymore, and she wouldn’t have to worry about how others perceived her. She could swing as much as she wanted. Maybe she and their child could take turns playing on it.

“These statues are holding hands. Just like us.”

Rose, who had been observing the statue, added that softly. Ezekiel smiled and gently tightened his grip on her hand.

Neither of them hurried their steps. The night was long and the walk peaceful. Whether they spoke quietly or simply listened to the sounds of insects and foliage, everything was just right. This time was precious. This person was precious.

They walked slowly through the garden, tying knots to a few more trees that could serve as markers.

The next statue they found depicted a man and woman embracing. A couple facing each other, a couple holding hands, and now a couple embracing. Looking closely, all the statues in the garden seemed to portray romantic pairs.

“To my left, I see lovers embracing.”

“Ah, yes. That one was around here.”

The rope coiled in Ezekiel’s arms, once bundled tight, was now beginning to run out. Walking along the crunchy, unkempt path, Rose suddenly voiced a thought.

“Why do you think there are only statues of lovers like this? I don’t see any others—just pairs of men and women.”

“You’ve finally gotten curious about that?”

“Finally…?”

“I was waiting to see when you’d ask.”

“Why?”

Suddenly, Ezekiel stopped walking. Caught off guard, Rose also came to a halt. Turning her toward him, Ezekiel released her hand and brought the small back of her head toward him.

His lips descended.

It was the shortest, most direct route—no hesitation, just a straight line.

Even before, he would often bring his lips to Rose without warning.

“I want to feel your breath.”

He wanted to hear more fragments of her, touch more of her. For example, her calm and low voice, her steps he once described as if she were dancing, and her gentle yet deliberate touch.

Sometimes, he would brush her face to sense the direction of her gaze. Once, when he felt a pulse in her wrist he had casually grabbed, he pressed his thumb to it and counted the beats, saying it helped him picture her silhouette more clearly behind the dark curtain covering his eyes.

Having grown used to his frequent physical affection, Rose instinctively adjusted her angle and accepted the kiss. She opened her lips and received him.

After savoring her warmth and softness for a while, Ezekiel parted his lips slightly and whispered, “That’s what they’re for.”

That those statues were set up to lead to such a deep kiss?

Even amid the lingering haze of heat that overwhelmed her senses, it was a hard story to believe.

“Surely not.”

“Don’t believe me? Look to your right.”

Without pulling his face away, Ezekiel tilted his head to the right. Rose, naturally following, glanced sideways and spotted a statue of lovers placed plainly nearby. They were kissing.

“When you take a walk through the garden with someone you like, the statues guide you—from standing face to face at the mansion’s entrance, to holding hands, then embracing, and finally, at the end…”

Ezekiel lightly bit her lip and released it.

“Like this.”

“You’re saying they were set up deliberately?”

“It’s an old tradition among northern noble houses. Since the weather here is usually bad, there aren’t many places to go or things to do. So when someone wants to ask for a date, they suggest a walk. And if the feeling is mutual, the statues provide a good excuse during the walk. Gardens in northern estates are often used to gauge mutual affection.”

“I had no idea. Then when I asked you to take a walk in the garden, you must’ve been laughing inside.”

“I was delighted.”

Even now, his cool lips twitched with a quiet smile as Rose watched.

“A maid cannot become the lady of Valdemaira. No household allows a mere maid to become the mistress.”

On impulse, she reached out and touched the corner of his lips.

“Why?”

“No reason.”

“How sudden.”

Sudden…

Suddenly, she realized—this man had always been so graceful.

Now rid of the haze of medicine, he displayed the perfect balance of a noble’s dignity and a soldier’s discipline. When turning his head, he didn’t shift his gaze but pointed his nose in that direction. The slight tilt of his chin gave his profile an air of nobility.

It didn’t feel like a calculated action, but rather a habit born of long training. Well-bred people show their origins in how they eat, speak, and walk—this was proof.

Suddenly, the vast difference between her and Ezekiel hit her.

Merlot’s warning kept echoing in her mind.

“I happen to know someone who uses the same method of contraception. These matters typically fall under the duties of the lower servants.”

She never imagined that a single lemon could arouse suspicion—especially not from someone other than this man.

“Who exactly are you, miss?”

“I…”

Sometimes she wanted to forget who she was. Even knowing she mustn’t, she longed for the impossible.

“Major.”

Had this man ever felt the same? Ever wished to deny or run from himself?

“Have you ever imagined yourself as someone other than a Valdemaira?”

Looking for the right moment, she finally asked. Though she hadn’t even gotten to the point yet, Ezekiel answered without hesitation at her very first words.

“No.”

A firm denial, leaving no room for doubt.