The One Who Won't Be Abandoned - Chapter 41

Andre shook his head as if that wasn’t even remotely the issue. Then, without warning, he stood up and took a step toward me.

His long arms stretched wide as he walked forward, his deep voice barely more than a whisper.

“…Hold me, Jeanne. Please. I can’t do this right now. Just… calm me down.”

The way he looked—his shoulders trembling ever so slightly, his expression caught somewhere between exhaustion and desperation—made my heart ache.

Without a second thought, I reached out and embraced him.

Immediately, Andre’s arms locked around me, pulling me in with crushing force. I gasped slightly as I found myself caught between his body and the sofa, completely engulfed by him.

“The thought of you not being here,” he murmured against my hair, his voice thick with emotion. “The thought of you not being by my side—it felt like standing on thin ice, waiting for it to shatter under my feet.”

His voice was damp with unspoken fears, his grip unsteady.

“I was terrified of that ice breaking beneath me.”

I patted Andre’s back gently, as if soothing a child.

“I… Khhk. Ha… I’ll always be by your side, Young Master.”

With every uneven, shuddering breath he took, the pressure around me intensified. But despite the near-crushing grip, I forced myself to endure it. Andre looked so fragile, so utterly lost, that I bit my tongue and bore the discomfort.

“There, there, Young Master. Don’t worry about anything. I’m not going anywhere—I’ll always be with you.”

I said whatever I could think of to calm him down. The faster he was reassured, the sooner I’d be able to breathe again. No matter how much his body had grown, his heart was still the same—tender, vulnerable.

I knew better than anyone that if I comforted him properly, his mood would ease.

“You’re upset because I left without telling you, right? I’m sorry. It wasn’t because I was angry at you. It was for a good reason. You’re generous, aren’t you, Young Master? You’ll forgive me, won’t you?”

“…No.”

Andre inhaled deeply, as if trying to contain himself, then nuzzled his cheek against the top of my head in a strangely affectionate motion.

I choked on my breath.

“I—I’ll invite you over! I’ll even make you meat soup! Like I did back at—hngh! Like I did back at—”

“Like in the Kayal Mountains?”

Sensing my struggle, Andre finally let me go.

Gasping, I greedily sucked in the air I had been deprived of. “Yes… I’m going to start learning how to cook. That way, I can make anything you want.”

His expression softened. The tension drained from his face as he kneeled on the floor before me, resting on both knees.

“I thought I was losing my mind,” he murmured, his voice light but exhausted. “But I feel better now. Much better.”

Andre leaned forward, wrapping his arms around my legs, resting his forehead against my lap.

The closeness startled me.

This wasn’t just a casual embrace—it was too intimate. Too much.

But if I pushed him away now, I knew his mood would darken again.

Suppressing my unease, I smoothed my expression and gently ran my fingers through his hair, stroking him like one would a restless beast.

“…I was foolish,” he whispered. “The place doesn’t matter. It never did. What matters is that you’re there. I forgot that.”

His fingers brushed absently over my skirt, trailing along the fabric in slow, thoughtless strokes. A strange sensation curled in my stomach—not because the touch was inappropriate, but because it could be.

Still, I focused on the task at hand: keeping him calm.

“I’m always your faithful maid, Jeanne,” I reassured him. “No matter where I am, that won’t change.”

“…You’re right,” he murmured. “You’re always right, Jeanne.”

I continued stroking his hair, waiting patiently for his storm of emotions to settle.

His hand, which had been idly playing with my skirt, slid lower—his fingers grazing over my exposed ankle.

I stilled.

I knew there was no intent behind the touch.

But the featherlight sensation sent an involuntary shiver up my spine.

A deep silence stretched between us.

His movements slowed, becoming almost lethargic.

Curious, I cautiously brushed his hair aside to look at his face.

As if sensing my touch, he lifted his head slightly, revealing drowsy, unfocused eyes.

“…Put me to sleep.”

The way he mumbled it—soft, petulant, like a child refusing to go to bed—made me chuckle.

Shaking my head, I grabbed his arms and gently pulled him up. He followed me without resistance, letting me lead him toward the bed.

I tucked him under the covers, smoothing the blanket over his broad frame.

“You and Harmon both look like walking corpses,” I sighed. “What were you doing all night?”

“…Nothing much.”

The moment I mentioned Harmon, Andre’s expression soured, as if I had just uttered something deeply unpleasant.

I blinked, puzzled.

“…Didn’t you reinstate him as your personal attendant because you liked him?”

“Not exactly,” Andre muttered. “I just thought… with the right training, he could be useful.”

“You should reconsider,” I whispered conspiratorially, sitting at the edge of his bed and smoothing his tousled hair.

“Harmon might look fine on the surface, but mentally? He’s… unstable.”

Andre’s gaze flickered with interest, but I lowered my voice even further, as if sharing a secret.

“He’s got issues. Voyeurism, compulsive lying… And he keeps questionable company. I really don’t think he’s good for you.”

Andre chuckled, utterly unbothered. “If he’s sick, he can be treated. If his friends are bad, I’ll keep him away from them.”

I frowned. “You can’t just ‘cure’ someone like that. What if he snaps one day and hurts you?”

My worry was genuine, but Andre only smiled in response.

“I like it when you worry about me.”

I should have been annoyed by his teasing. But instead, I felt the weight of his gaze—the silent plea beneath his sleepy expression.

You make me feel at ease…

Stay with me…

Help me sleep…

His eyes, heavy with drowsiness, wordlessly conveyed everything he didn’t say aloud.

With a quiet sigh, I ran my palm gently over his lids, coaxing them shut.

“…Say my name,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Such a demanding young master.

“Goodnight, Andre.”

Resting my hand lightly over his chest, I patted him soothingly.

His breathing soon grew steady, slow.

I watched his sleeping face—still striking, even in slumber.

Strangely, knowing how much my absence had affected him… made me feel better.

A lot better.

I liked knowing he needed me.

A quiet, satisfied smile formed on my lips as I sat beside him, watching over him in the dim candlelight.

 

* * *

 

I had barely fought off sleep, nearly dozing off beside Andre. Staying awake had felt like a victory—one I was very proud of.

But that pride quickly turned to regret.

I should’ve just slept next to him.

Because now?

Now I had to serve the princess.

Since she hadn’t brought any ladies-in-waiting with her, the D’Hel Castle maids had to tend to her needs instead.

And she had specifically requested the one who had known Andre the longest.

That meant me.

My peaceful morning with Andre had been a cruel trick—because now, I had to spend the afternoon attending to a woman I did not want to see.

The privileges Lord D’Hel had granted me, the ability to choose my work, meant nothing in the face of royalty.

“How does this look? Does it suit me?”

The princess had arrived at the castle with an entire carriage filled with luxurious gowns and accessories.

Unfortunately, there were no experienced, fashion-savvy maids at D’Hel Castle, so she had no choice but to try on each dress and piece of jewelry herself, holding them up, swapping them out, trying them on.

She would ask for my opinion, but before I could answer, she would shake her head and make her own decision.

“No, no. The Ferrier family crest is an emerald hydrangea, so this one is better.”

She removed the ruby necklace she had been wearing and replaced it with a delicate chain adorned with pale green gemstones.

Immediately, I plastered on a lifeless smile and muttered, “It’s stunning, Your Highness.”

The table before me was littered with dozens of pieces of jewelry.

For over an hour, every time she draped something over herself, I had responded with the same empty words:

You look lovely.

It suits you perfectly.

My lips ached from the repetition.

“I’m glad I came to D’Hel.”

The princess finally shifted to a different topic.

“I’ll finally get to visit Ferrier. Did you know they’re famous for their walnut pies? Have you ever tried one?”

“…No.”

“I have. They’re incredible. Absolutely divine.”

She sighed wistfully, as if reminiscing about a long-lost love.

I refused to admit it, but I couldn’t deny it—she really was breathtaking.

More than her face, it was her body that made me want to scream into the void.

She had no shame in undressing before me, stripping off her gowns without a second thought.

Her body was impossibly smooth, frustratingly firm, as if she had never given birth at all.

Her curves were perfect—her chest full, her hips rounded, her waist narrow.

Infuriating.

Stealing a glance downward, I pressed a hand against my stomach.

It wasn’t thick, but I could pinch a small bit of flesh between my fingers.

The realization made me physically ill.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the princess finished selecting her wardrobe for the upcoming trip.

She neatly folded her chosen outfits and then moved toward the seating area, where a warm pot of tea had been prepared.

“Preparing everything myself is tiring. You worked hard, too.”

“It was no trouble at all, Your Highness.”

I responded politely, then turned back to cleaning up the mess she had left behind.

“Your name was… Jeanne, correct?”

Hearing my name from her lips made me uneasy.

No—the fact that she even knew I existed made me uneasy.

I’m such a terrible person.

I knew I was being ridiculously petty.

And yet, I couldn’t stop the deep, gnawing resentment bubbling inside me.

Having finished tidying up, I stepped back and positioned myself by the wall, standing as still as a piece of furniture.

The air felt heavy.

Even the room felt uncomfortable.

But the worst part?

The worst part was the way she was watching me.

Her wide eyes fixed on me like a hawk—studying, analyzing, assessing.

It made me want to scream and run out of the room.

But then—

“So, you’re the maid?”

I stiffened.

“The one who stayed by my fiancé’s side while he was living in the mountains?”

My head snapped up.

The princess met my gaze and smiled.

A slow, knowing smile.

“…Ah—yes.”

I had meant to respond clearly, but the unexpected question threw me off.

I knew I wasn’t supposed to hesitate when speaking to royalty. But I couldn’t help it.

“Why so surprised?”

Her lips curled further.

“It’s only natural for me to look into my fiancé’s past, don’t you think?”