Chapter 8: Saint and Villainess

* * *

The light from the chandelier hanging from the high ceiling was dazzling. Beneath it, the endless musical pieces, the lovers swaying to the rhythm—everything seemed joyful.

But as exceptions exist wherever one goes, Lyra, standing alone by a pillar, was just that. She sipped on a mild fruit wine, trying to soothe her anxious heart.

‘Who should I approach?’

The Duchess O’Neill, who had kindly helped her build connections with the ladies yesterday, predictably wouldn’t even look her way. The Marchioness of Fontpagneu, whose favor she needed to win first, was surrounded by ladies who disapproved of her, not even visible.

What about the daughters of other high-ranking families? They whispered while glancing at her, but when their eyes met, they looked away as if wanting no entanglement.

Lyra repeatedly tried to approach and join a group, only to retreat at those cold gazes.

‘At this rate, I won’t accomplish anything.’

Her gaze naturally turned to Davira Claudia. Standing with a forlorn face, receiving comfort from the ladies. A stark contrast to her own situation that naturally evoked a sigh.

Gulp. The red liquid, whether drink or alcohol, slid down her throat. With each swallow, once, twice, heat seemed to rise gradually to her face.

Finally, having become an outcast in just one day, Lyra moved to wash away the self-loathing that washed over her. But her steps toward the balcony were soon halted.

“Excuse me.”

Turning around, she saw a servant who had quickly approached, thrusting something into her hand while pointing to a location.

“The gentleman over there asked me to deliver this to you.”

The man, in a neat appearance with a white shirt and black vest, uttered just those words before swiftly passing by her side. Being employed by the Duke O’Neill’s household, he seemed uncomfortable even speaking to her, regardless of how unrelated they were.

Lyra fidgeted with the stem of the white rose, its thorns removed, then raised her eyes in the direction the servant had pointed earlier.

“…!”

She unconsciously bit her lip. The one who had sent her the white rose and a folded card was none other than Count Almar.

She had felt his gaze since yesterday. Nevertheless, she had consistently responded with ignorance. It was natural, given that there was nothing good about facing a man who had tried to drive her into a corner, and even just meeting his eyes sent chills down her spine.

Taking a hesitant step back, she saw Count Almar smile gently and raise his wine glass. Then, after moistening his lips lightly, he turned away as if nothing had happened.

After being momentarily frozen by his incomprehensible behavior, Lyra looked down at the card in her hand. Despite a feeling that she shouldn’t open it, her hands habitually unfolded the card.

And with that, her breath stopped.

“Do you truly trust him?”

Her blank, downcast eyes captured the elegantly written print, but she struggled to grasp its meaning.

What was he talking about? Why was he testing her trust?

It wasn’t even a matter of trusting the Duke or not, but strangely, her fingertips trembled slightly.

Lyra quickly folded the card and hid it in her palm. A conversation flashed through her mind, but whatever his intention, she didn’t want to dwell on it.

‘Yes. I should sober up.’

Slowly regulating her breath, Lyra continued toward the balcony.

* * *

“Wow, the atmosphere is brutal, isn’t it? Nothing’s scarier than a battle between women, right?”

Max draped his arm over Kaylon’s shoulder. Despite sensing the subtle current flowing through the hall, he acted as if he found the situation amusing.

“It’s only a matter of time before she gets torn to shreds. If it were me, I’d keep her by my side, if only out of concern. Why leave her alone in the wild? That’s why flies like Cody Ferret are buzzing around her.”

Max glanced at Kaylon. His expressionless old friend seemed to have buried his formerly honest self somewhere, making it difficult to discern his thoughts.

Seeing Kaylon silently staring at one spot without answering, Max wore a puzzled expression.

“By the way, who are you glaring at so intently?”

He turned his head toward where Kaylon’s gaze was directed, but with so many groups gathered, he couldn’t pinpoint the exact target. Just as he was about to give up and turn away, he noticed Kaylon’s brow subtly twitching.

Max smiled knowingly and asked again.

“There’s something, isn’t there? A scoop?”

Though not a journalist himself, his instinct as the son of a newspaper owner spoke strongly.

As he tightened his arm, urging an answer, Kaylon, who had been silent until then, removed the arm as if it were cumbersome. He also naturally withdrew his gaze from Count Almar.

“If it’s a scoop you want, I think you’d better dig into your own family first.”

At his indifferent tone, Max raised his eyebrows.

“What, you were listening? You’ve become quite the snake while I wasn’t looking. You’re not our old man. Does inheriting a title change everyone like this?”

“If you’re curious, why not get a title yourself? There must be plenty of families looking for sons-in-law.”

“What a revolting suggestion.”

Thinking he couldn’t sell his pure love for the future head of the newspaper company for a mere title, Max shuddered before asking again.

“Besides, why suddenly bring up my family? Have you heard something I don’t know?”

“Well, that seems like something you should find out for yourself.”

Max’s expression immediately hardened at the meaningful smile. As someone diligently gathering the shares needed to secure management rights, it wasn’t something he could take lightly.

Kaylon watched the suddenly quiet Max for a moment before chuckling. Then, as he casually turned his gaze, he caught sight of men exchanging glances and whispering.

His amber eyes, now coldly detached, quickly scanned the surroundings. He noticed several people in servant attire watching them. However, upon spotting Cody Ferret sending signals with a lewd gaze from across the room, his feet moved before his thoughts could catch up.

He walked forward, ignoring Max’s voice asking where he was suddenly going.

“Tsk.”

Unpleasant imaginings instantly invaded his mind. Just picturing what those men who had slipped into the balcony where Lyra had gone might be doing made his stomach churn.

The veins on the back of his clenched fist bulged. Yet, his walking pace remained unchanged.

As he neared the balcony, the men who noticed his presence hurriedly turned their heads, pretending innocence.

Kaylon gave Cody Ferret, who was turning away with a fake cough, a cold glance before opening the balcony door. A moment later, an incredulous laugh escaped through his teeth.

‘Ha.’

Really, could there be anyone more at ease than this woman? Did she even realize what she had nearly suffered?

No, truth be told, he had been concerned that she might be dejected and crying inside. But in this situation, how could she be falling asleep?

Kaylon walked up to the woman nodding off in a chair and quietly looked down at her. After sipping cherry wine earlier, she seemed to have succumbed to its effects.

About to wake Lyra immediately, he paused. A white rose fallen at her feet caught his eye.

The Count is quieter than expected. What was he plotting, just watching Lyra?

Occasionally, when their eyes met, he would maintain politeness with a respectful smile, yet when his gaze turned to Lyra, undisguised desire would occasionally peek through.

Like a man in love.

Could that be why he had wanted to take Lyra as his bride? While it seemed an absurd assumption, it was also entirely believable.

Kaylon crushed the carelessly abandoned rose under his shoe before raising his gaze. This time, her wrist, which had been in Cody Ferret’s grip, came into view, immediately triggering an unpleasant surge of emotion.

Having removed her evening gloves somewhere, her fair skin stood out even while hidden in darkness. Just like that night when he had created red marks while entangled with her.

‘Damn it.’

Was it always this easy to conjure such stimulating memories? Just briefly recalling her white skin was enough to tighten his lower abdomen.

Kaylon turned his head and wiped his face with one hand. But the more he denied it, the more he felt as if the woman’s moans were burrowing into his ears.

‘Pathetic bastard.’

He felt as if his patience had run out. The emotions he thought he had fully expelled after that one night with her seemed to be seeping back into his entire body.

Did he want to harbor such base desires for a woman who was merely a tool?

Kaylon, having forgotten why he had come here in the first place, muttered a small curse before turning away. Staying in the same space with her might drive him mad first.

But at that moment, he heard a rustling sound, and a thin voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Your… Grace?”

* * *

As her body temperature dropped in the chilly air, a cold sensation crept through her entire body. As consciousness gradually returned, Lyra opened her eyes at the slight presence and hastily rose from her seat upon recognizing the man standing with his back to her.

‘How long has he been here? Surely he hasn’t been watching the whole time?’

The thought that her sleeping appearance might not have been pleasant brought an instant wave of embarrassment. Lyra lowered her head slightly as she watched Kaylon turning toward her. But his following low voice made her clasp her hands tightly.

“Has the alcohol worn off?”

Could he possibly have been watching her wandering alone, unable to do anything?

His deeply lowered voice felt so much like a reprimand that her childish delight at seeing him instantly subsided.

“Yes.”

“Then let’s go inside.”

Had this been an actual battlefield, she would surely have lost her life to an enemy’s blade. A drunken soldier would be of no help to the war effort.

Yet Kaylon, despite looking down at her coldly, said nothing. Perhaps if he had just told her to pull herself together, she might have felt less conflicted. Or maybe he hadn’t expected much from her to begin with.

“What are you doing?”

The alcohol must not have worn off completely. Lyra quickly shook off her thoughts and raised her head. At that moment, she caught sight of a group of figures strolling through the garden.

Without time to think, Lyra stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Kaylon’s neck.

“Miss Claudia is… excuse me.”

Where had such courage come from? She spoke so hurriedly that she wasn’t sure if her message had been properly conveyed. Standing on tiptoe, Lyra watched his amber eyes widen before pressing her lips against his.

His lips, which she had expected to be cold, were as warm as the body heat she had felt last night. She couldn’t give him the deep kiss he had given her, but the precarious touch alone was enough to feel.

Lyra closed her eyes tightly as she felt her heart pounding, ready to burst. Though she had initiated the kiss, she couldn’t be certain if Davira Claudia had seen them.

‘I hope she saw us.’

Kaylon’s broad shoulders made it impossible to see the situation below, causing her heartbeat to escalate further.

‘But how long should I stay like this?’

Since this was her first time initiating a kiss, she was inevitably ignorant about how to end it.

Just as the strength in her tiptoes began to wane and thoughts of her reckless action began to creep in, a sudden strong force supported her waist, holding her close.

Simultaneously, her surprised eyes flew open, and her breath stopped. She met his honey-colored eyes cast in deep shadow as she felt hot fluid invading her lips.

The intent gaze, the large hand cradling the nape of her neck, the increasingly rapid breathing.

Realizing he was no different from the man who had embraced her last night, her lips parted naturally as if trying to awaken the longed-for sensation. Lyra welcomed his rough embrace, releasing a deep breath.

“Close your eyes.”

As if he alone desired to devour her with his eyes and mouth, Kaylon murmured lowly through their joined lips.

Lyra closed her eyes gently, as if his words were a spell. His tight embrace was warm, and her consumed lips were covered with a tangy scent.

But the urgent yet sweet kiss, as if suffocating, was like a boy suffering from a fever.

At least in this moment, for both of them.