Chapter 6
He stood rigid, as though cursed to turn into stone for the rest of his life.
Alperil struggled again and again, cried out once more, yet could not bring herself to lay a hand on Terenzio’s body.
“Master! Fire, there’s fire, master—!”
Only then did Terenzio seem to sense the heat from the floor. In that instant, he pushed her shoulder away, the very one he had been gripping.
Freed at last from his iron grasp, Alperil staggered and collided against the wall of the corridor.
It had been a desperate, yet not painful gesture. Catching her breath through a faint dizziness, she slowly raised her head. Her mind spun, unable yet to fully comprehend the situation.
The flames, which moments ago had seemed so terrifyingly immense, large enough to consume her whole, were now no more than embers, touched just near her knees. Yet a fire that began inside in the dead of winter was dangerous no matter its size.
Biting down on her pale lips, Alperil looked at the young master, who even after shoving her aside, remained frozen in place.
He seemed entranced, as though bewitched by something. Just as Alperil strained her voice, trying to approach him again…
“……!”
Terenzio, with practiced swiftness, tore off his coat and hurled it. The thick fabric fell upon the small but fierce flame, and soon after, shards of glass scattered beneath his crushing step.
Alperil stifled a gasp and flinched. Acrid smoke rose from the smothered fire.
Terenzio, who had so swiftly extinguished the flames, now breathed heavily.
Darkness returned, and at last, their eyes met. In the uneasy silence, Alperil tried to form words, but before she could, bang!
The door between them slammed shut. Ash and smoke were swept away with it.
She blinked vacantly, as though waking from an unreal nightmare. Then, from beyond the wooden wall, a trembling voice seeped through.
It was no more than a whisper, yet Alperil’s face went blank as she echoed it back.
“…Go.”
“Pardon?”
“Leave! Get out of this mansion at once.”
At that very moment, a howling gust roared behind her, a wail of nature itself rattling the windows before falling still.
The sound mirrored the turmoil in her chest. Balling her fists, Alperil knocked on the door.
“Master please, if you shut the door like this, the smoke will choke you.”
“……”
“I… ah… Please, just once, show me mercy. Master, I was wrong. Forgive me.”
Her voice flowed calmly out of sheer despair. Digging her nails into her palm, she chose her words carefully, not quite a confession of sin, but closer to a question.
“I… broke the candlestick.”
That was, perhaps, all there was to blame.
Yet even if the fault were not hers, nothing would change. She understood well the nobles’ nature, indulgent toward themselves, merciless toward others. Still, that knowledge did not make reality any less harsh.
If she thought back, everything since yesterday had been like that. Alperil wetted her lips with her tongue, then glanced toward the half-open window, swayed by the lingering wind. Now was not the time for pride.
“I… have nowhere to go. The carriage that brought me has already left. Please, grant me compassion, allow me to stay, even in the storeroom.”
The winter estate was bitterly cold. Even an hour’s walk would only bring her to land still owned by him.
If she wrapped herself in all the coats and cloth she had brought, perhaps she could endure a single night.
Just as she finished her calculations and opened her mouth, a sound stirred before her. From the slowly opened door emerged a shadow, vast and imposing.
The man drew a deep breath, as though to protest, but what came out instead was a voice, cracked and broken.
“At the very end of the left corridor. Go there.”
As she looked up at him, another thud resounded. The door shut firmly again. Alperil glanced between it and the end of the corridor.
It was far. That was her first thought, an unmistakable distance set between them.
Was it simply that he could not bear to keep a servant he mistrusted nearby? Reading the sharp edges of his malice, Alperil straightened her lips, awkwardly, though no one was watching. Expected as it was, living it was altogether different.
“Thank you.”
Her voice fell weary. With no reply, she trudged away from the door.
Moonlight shone so brightly she squinted and lowered her head. From behind, the corridor’s doors rattled again in the fierce wind.
At least tonight she had not been cast outside. But tomorrow, what of tomorrow? How many more days would she have to endure, heart clenched with fear? These thoughts weighed on her as she walked.
If only she had held that cursed candlestick more tightly, would things have been different? No, more than that, why?
Why had he rushed toward her with such a look, why had he behaved as though his very soul had been exchanged with another’s? That performance in the daytime came to mind, the music.
Music like that should not have been possible from a man such as him. A pianist who could shake the souls of every listener, yet refused all human contact.
Alperil entered the room he had allowed. Not that she had anything to unpack. She simply curled herself inside the thick blanket. Her mood was uncertain, strangely light, yet also unbearably anxious.
One thing was certain, sleep would not come easily.
On the dark ceiling, Pascal’s rough face flickered in memory before fading. She knew she would never forget his voice from the last time they had spoken, before she left the estate.
Pascal Muller.
***
“Cal. Wake up for a moment. Please, just for a moment.”
That dawn, just before her departure, she had hidden in the barn where his family lay sleeping.
“…Alperil?”
His drowsy voice that night had been tender. Yet Alperil, with a firm expression, hushed him with a finger against his lips. His coarse-featured eyes wavered.
“There’s no time. Promise me you won’t shout. Then I’ll take my hand away.”
Pascal nodded slowly. She withdrew her finger and drew a breath before speaking.
“I’m leaving.”
“What?”
His voice rose, promise forgotten. Cal! Alperil frowned, warning him again. Though softer, his urgency pressed on.
“Are you mad? Trying to run away? You won’t last a week before bandits or thieves find you!”
He blurted it all out, then faltered, glancing away. Alperil knew instantly why. He was thinking of her father, who had once fled and been caught, killed for it.
“I’ve never once thought of that, Cal. This is under the young lord’s orders.”
“….”
“You’ve heard of St. Kaleum, haven’t you? The genius pianist, Terenzio Heron, lives there. The lord is sending me to his mansion, to watch over his younger brother. Likely, I’ll blend in among the maids.”
Pascal listened in silence, then whispered desperately.
“You’re joking, right?”
Alperil shook her head.
Damn it, a brother? Pascal muttered bitterly, drained. How long? A year. At last, a curse slipped from his lips.
The neighing of horses broke the moment. Fearing to anger the unfamiliar coachman by lingering, Alperil straightened her hem and rose quickly.
“So I came to say goodbye. Stay well without me. If possible, write—”
The young man sprang to his feet, pulling her into a sudden embrace.
Startled, her eyes darted about, until the warmth of his breath touched her bare neck. Only then did she gently stroke his broad back. Their parting was soaked in one man’s tears.
Lingering in that warmth, the voice of Lord Leopold sank into the coldness within her.
Suddenly, she longed for the faces of parents she had never known. She shifted restlessly beneath the blanket.
The unfamiliar bed was not uncomfortable. In fact, it felt warmer, cozier, than her quarters at the viscount’s manor. Only her heart lay uneasy.
If she tried to close her eyes, that gnawing anxiety returned. So she forced her thoughts onward.
Eventually, when she did finally rest her head, her lashes closed only after the faraway blue sun had risen.
***
When her heavy eyelids opened, the first thing she saw was the sun, bright over the hill. Alperil, barely awake, walked toward the window.
She remembered then that no one would be bringing her washbasin anymore. Tidying her disheveled hair, she paused.
The room, far too large for a serf, was no different from the rest of the mansion. Despite having spent half a day cleaning yesterday, dust still clung to every corner.
Sighing softly, she noted the places that would need more care and set about once more.
If the musician would not favor her, there was nothing she could do.
After a short rest, all tangled thoughts seemed swept away. Now she knew what must have to do today.
Alperil whispered words only she could hear.
“I’ll just have to step into his heart myself.”
