Chapter 95
“What are you doing?”
Walter grabbed the cloth tied between the bedpost and his wrist and tore it apart with alarming ease. The ragged cloth left in his hand fluttered to the floor like it was dancing.
He slowly walked over and gently took hold of Hermia’s hand, the one that was clutching the doorknob. A low sigh fell over her head the moment she gripped the knob tightly in an attempt to hold her ground.
“Let go.”
“No, you let go.”
“If I let go…”
Walter turned her around, met her eyes, and asked politely.
“Were you going to close the door?”
“No, I just… Yes.”
‘Damn it. He caught on. Since when?’
The man who hadn’t even realized Henry was a father could be oddly sharp in the strangest moments, like now, sensing something lewd.
Walter opened his eyes slowly, calm and composed, and spoke in a voice that seemed to coax her just a little.
“You know what happens when the door is closed.”
“……”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
Like that disastrous first night.
Whether he knew what she had swallowed back or not, Hermia looked thoroughly dissatisfied.
And for good reason—she had been looking forward to today. She’d eaten a hearty lunch and had even told Emily not to knock before she came to the room.
That sharp-witted head maid had reassured her not to worry and had even subtly shown support. There was no way she could just let this chance slip by.
That would be too much of a waste.
“I…”
Say it. Just say it. Don’t stammer like an idiot trying to act like it’s nothing.
“I want to see you.”
Her voice was barely audible for someone who had resolved so firmly. Walter, somehow able to understand, asked, “See what?”
“…vert.”
This time, he really didn’t catch it. He tilted his head a little. Hermia fidgeted with her fingers and muttered.
“I want to see the pervert. He still shows up in my dreams sometimes. The way you looked when the curse first appeared… and that first night…”
‘Why on earth did she dream about that?’
Walter swallowed down the words rising to his throat once more.
She wasn’t the only one seeing it in her dreams. But unlike her, who reacted this way, he always woke up wanting to strangle himself.
What she called a dream was his nightmare.
She actually wanted to see that version of him again?
Could it be… that’s her thing?
If she really liked being pushed around roughly and hearing all those filthy things he said…
Walter’s mind started to go blank, but Hermia continued, gently and calmly.
“I like the way you call me. The way you express yourself. Darling, honey, my love. Come to think of it, on our first night, you even called me ‘my queen.’ You probably don’t remember.”
He remembered vividly. He even recalled how she had reacted when he called her queen.
“So, just calling you like that is enough?”
“What?”
Walter looked dead serious as he said,
“If those names are what you like, I’ll call you that whenever we’re alone.”
“Really? Then try it right now.”
“……”
“See? You can’t.”
Hermia deliberately put on a disappointed face and turned away. From behind, he called out in a rush, “Darling.”
She had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop herself from laughing.
When she turned her head slowly, she saw her husband looking resigned. He reached out his hand toward her.
“I’ll… I’ll do it. Come here. My… love.”
It sounded awkward, like reading from a book, but still, it was something. She beamed and ran to him, throwing her arms tightly around his waist.
The way his scent wrapped around her was something she truly loved. It made her feel safer than anything in the world and her heart fluttered.
A huge sense of relief, a bit of tension, and a faint sense of anticipation.
How does this man feel when I hold him like this?
At the very least, she could tell his physical reaction with certainty. Her face began to flush.
“I like those cheesy pet names, but actually, what I liked the most was…”
There was no one else to hear, but she rose on tiptoe and whispered in his ear.
“…that you don’t remember the next day. Then I can show all the embarrassing sides of me without worry.”
“……”
“I know it’s selfish, but it’s fun for me…”
“Is that really why you want to see the cursed version of me?”
Walter pulled her away, holding her shoulders, and looked her in the eyes. She was the first to look away.
“I feel brave because you won’t remember anything no matter what I try…”
Click. Clack.
The terrace door suddenly closed—and locked.
She covered her mouth with both hands.
Oh my God. Did this man just close the door himself?
“Walter, are you okay?”
“I don’t… think I’m okay.”
Watching his breathing grow heavy, a wide smile bloomed on her face. Success, at last.
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Tick-tock, tick-tock…
Hermia had drifted off into a light sleep and now lay wide awake, blinking slowly.
The ticking of the clock’s second hand seemed unusually loud. Probably because the world around her was utterly silent.
The bedroom of the suite, bathed in moonlight, was still cloaked in deep, dark blue shadows.
When she turned her head, she saw Walter’s sleeping face turned toward her. The firm pillow under her head was none other than her husband’s arm.
As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, his eyes, nose, and mouth started to come into focus.
His closed eyes, with the shadow cast beneath the lashes, the straight, sharp nose, and tightly shut mouth—all of it seemed to say that even in sleep, his face was still handsome. Hermia raised her fingers and traced along the lines as if drawing a picture.
“Sleep a little more.”
While her fingers lingered around his chin, Walter spoke with his eyes still closed. His calm voice was clear, like someone who hadn’t been asleep for even a moment.
She hadn’t even touched him—how did he know?
“You’re awake?”
“Yeah.”
“Did the curse lift? Your way of speaking is…”
“…No. Not yet.”
Feeling something was off, she slowly turned her body and lay facing him. Walter still had his eyes closed.
“That’s odd. It feels different from our first night.”
There was a subtle difference between that day and today, hard to put into words.
But since she’d only experienced it once, she wasn’t sure.
“Am I wrong…?”
Compared to the first night when he’d seemed like a starved beast, today he felt more like a well-fed predator. Somehow, she couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d been holding back the entire time. Though it was rougher than the way he usually treated her like a glass ornament…
‘No way. It must be the curse. Walter wouldn’t act like that unless he was out of his mind.’
She decided to set aside any pointless doubts. If it wasn’t the curse, both of them would’ve died of embarrassment.
Hermia clenched her teeth, trying to push away the floating memories that came to mind even with her eyes closed.
One of the most embarrassing moments was when she’d brought up the hostess of Night of the Wolf. Even from a woman’s perspective, that body was incredible. Thinking Walter would feel the same, she’d asked him about it, which had caused everything.
‘When you saw her half-naked, did you really not feel anything? Not at all? Not even the slightest bit?’
Even when she said she wouldn’t be mad and urged him to be honest, Walter kept denying it until the end.
If only she had let it go there.
But Hermia, obsessed with dragging out an answer, kept pushing with unreasonable arguments.
Think about it carefully. Her chest and hips were way bigger than mine.
And you really didn’t feel anything? Compare us again.
Driven by jealousy, she’d said all kinds of ridiculous things.
Why did I do that…
If she had known he would give such detailed praise from head to toe, she wouldn’t have done it.
Really, neither of them had been in their right mind.
Hermia reached a clear conclusion.
Walter had to be under the curse. There was no other explanation.
“Sleep well, honey.”
“Good night. Sleep… tight.”
“You really won’t remember anything tomorrow, right?”
“…Yeah.”
“I normally don’t trust people easily, but I trust you. Because it’s you.”
“……”
“So, about that. If you ever get a mistress, don’t let me find out. If I catch you…”
“The duchy, the fortune, all of it… it’s yours.”
He opened his eyes and said that, then immediately covered his mouth.
‘All of it’s mine?’
It sounded like something she’d heard before, but Hermia couldn’t think about it any further.
Walter looked like someone who was angry.
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Just as dawn was breaking, Walter got out of bed.
Hermia, sound asleep, still had traces of last night all over her body. He pulled up the thin blanket to shield her from the cold air that would soon flow in, put on his slippers, and walked over to the window.
He opened the tightly shut terrace door, bent down, and closed the narrow window at his feet. With that, all evidence was erased.
As if nothing had happened, he went into the bathroom and turned on the shower. Amidst the sound of running water, a laugh slipped out.
He had completely lost it.
It was his evaluation of what he’d done last night.
Hermia had to be a demon, no doubt about it. What kind of ordinary woman could make someone nicknamed “the priest with a gun” act out such perverse performances?
And that talk about a mistress—what she’d said suddenly struck him again. It was so absurd and ridiculous that he couldn’t help but laugh.
The same had happened when she brought up the inn’s hostess. The distrust of men rooted inside Hermia seemed deeper than he had thought.
To pull that out might take a very long time, maybe even a lifetime. She wouldn’t believe him if he said she had nothing to worry about when it came to other women.
What should I do to make her understand… that I have no interest in anyone but her?
Hermia, I told you I love you.
I told you I wouldn’t let you go, even if you were related by blood to the man who killed my father.
Would she believe it if she knew that? Or…
Through the stream of water soaking the tiles, the tearful face of Nora came to mind. She didn’t look like the subordinate he used to know. It was like someone else had taken her place.
He still didn’t know when Nora started seeing Henry as a man, but now that she was carrying his child, her gaze toward Henry had clearly changed.
If you had my child, would you look at me that way too, Hermia?
