Chapter 130: Where Sweet Kisses End, and Shadows Begin
Chapter 130
❖❖❖
We explored each other’s lips again and again, as if this would be our last time. And only after the lingering ache of a final, breathless French kiss did Johannes pull away.
Yet, even in separation, the distance between us remained intimate. Each exhale from his lips sent waves of heat brushing against the tip of my nose, too close, too intoxicating.
With trembling fingers, I clung to the fabric of his sleeve, then slowly opened my eyes. At some point, the world around us had plunged into complete darkness. Looking up at Johannes in that quiet night, I felt his hand cradle the back of my head.
He smelled faintly of a forest breeze — warm, wild, and grounding. I rested in his embrace for a moment longer before gently pushing him back and whispering,
“…It’s late. I really have to go in now. Unless… unless you’re still joking about not returning to the mansion tonight.”
“It’s not a joke,” he replied, low laughter rumbling from his chest as he allowed himself to be pushed away. Then, he extended his hand toward me.
I took it — gently lifting his arm and lacing my fingers with his.
“It was a perfect date,” he said softly.
And with that, my heart, which had only just begun to calm, started racing again. Reality was creeping in.
Even though the night had fallen over the first day of the festival, the streets remained unusually lively. Crowds bustled around us, laughter echoing in the air, music drifting through the alleys.
Hand in hand with Johannes, I walked through the glowing streets, awash in warm light. Then, in the sea of cheerful faces, a familiar one emerged.
“Edith!”
Mrs. Pensler came rushing toward me, waving enthusiastically. She seized my hand and began shaking it up and down with unrestrained energy, completely ignoring Johannes’ presence.
Her cheeks were unusually flushed, and every word she uttered came with a distinct waft of alcohol. It was clear she’d had more than a drink or two — or perhaps she simply wore too much perfume.
Regardless, she chattered away in her ever-excitable tone.
“My goodness! How long has it been?”
“It really has been a while, ma’am,” I replied, unable to suppress a smile. I was relieved to see she still had her bright spirit.
Still seemingly unaware of Johannes beside me, she leaned in, speaking as though we were the only ones in the bustling square.
“I read the cards today, you know! And they said I’d meet someone familiar. I thought, ‘Who could that be?’ And then—there you were!”
“I’m happy to see you, too. What a coincidence!”
“It must be fate! I was doubtful about that reading, but now I believe it. Oh! Since you’re out, you should go and have your fortune read too! They say he’s amazing.”
When I didn’t respond quickly, she gave me a playful slap on the back and raised her voice for the world to hear.
“Huh? Go on, try it! He’s right over there!”
Despite the surrounding noise, her voice rose above it all. People nearby turned their heads to look. Yet, Mrs. Pensler was far too tipsy to notice or care.
I followed her pointed finger toward a small, makeshift booth nearby. Still, I only offered a faint smile, making no move toward it. There was no way I could visit such a place — not with Johannes beside me.
Or so I thought.
“No, no,” she said suddenly, as if reading my thoughts. “You’re a person of standing now. It wouldn’t look good for you to be seen going somewhere like that. You’re right not to go.”
She nodded sagely, mistaking my reluctance for discretion. Then, lowering her voice to a whisper against my ear, she added,
“But still… if you ever have a worry that keeps you up at night, go see him. Just pretend it’s nonsense, and give it a try. It’s not just me — all the women say the same.”
“Ahaha…”
“They say you and your gentleman fit perfectly together. Who knows? You might hear something unexpected.”
The conversation, already meandering, grew even more disjointed thanks to the alcohol. Fearing I might be trapped in this loop all night, I asked her directly,
“Where is this fortune teller?”
Her face lit up.
“Oh! It’s near the J-WOK area!”
“…J-WOK?” I frowned instinctively.
That district wasn’t known for its festivity — even during the festival season. In fact, there had recently been a murder there, casting a pall over the area.
Sensing my concern, Mrs. Pensler clapped her hands.
“Oh, Edith, haven’t you heard? Rumor has it that the area’s being redeveloped!”
“Redeveloped?”
“Yes! With so many visitors during the festival, business has boomed. The rich folk may grumble, but for people like us, it’s a blessing.”
“……”
“There’s gossip that the royal family’s behind it. Pouring money in for redevelopment. Isn’t that great?”
It sounded absurd. If such plans were truly underway, Johannes and I would surely have known.
I looked up at him — he too had furrowed his brows. Clearly, this was the first time he was hearing about it as well.
Still, the possibility lingered… The royal family had its secrets.
I offered a vague nod.
Thankfully, Mrs. Pensler soon shifted topics.
“Anyway, how have you been? You look healthy, but…”
“Yes?”
“I was so shocked when I saw the newspaper. What’s going on? Why are you always caught in these awful things?”
“……”
“Are you alright? I was so worried something might happen to you again.”
“Wait… Did you say awful things?”
I interrupted her sudden rush of words. She tilted her head at me, puzzled.
Seeing my confusion, she sighed and began explaining.
Apparently, there had been rumors — vile ones — about Johannes and me. That I’d soon be divorced. That I had committed some unforgivable crime against the royal family. Some even whispered I hadn’t been kidnapped at all — that I had run off with another noble.
My face darkened.
Quickly, she added that these rumors were only whispered in secret. People didn’t believe them wholeheartedly… but the doubt lingered.
I met her eyes, voice firm.
“That’s impossible. None of it is true.”
“Oh? I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything…”
She explained she had continued drinking that day and hadn’t meant to upset me. Then, curiously, she asked,
“But… didn’t you send me a letter?”
“…A letter?”
“Yes, you sent me one a while ago, didn’t you?”
I stared at her blankly. A letter? I hadn’t written to anyone in weeks — not with everything going on.
My brows furrowed. She frowned in return.
“Don’t you remember?”
“What letter did I supposedly send?”
“That’s just it. I thought something was wrong…”
A chill ran down my spine. Something was off.
I turned to Johannes. His expression had changed — sharp, focused.
He, too, was studying Mrs. Pensler’s words with a cautious eye.
Swallowing hard, I asked quietly,
“…What did I say in that letter?”
