What Remains in the Damaged Place - Chapter 24

The sand flowed smoothly through the narrow passage of the hourglass, cascading softly downward.

Lirette undid her buttons and climbed onto the bed, clutching a pillow she had long since asked permission to use. The man moved silently. Yet the light from the lamp cast shadows that revealed his presence.

Creak.

The bed behind her sank under his weight, and the sensation made her spine tingle.

It was then that something cool and sticky landed on the nape of her neck. She immediately thought of his wet hair—likely a drop of water falling from it.

As if that drop were a prelude, an even more sensitive part of her body was touched.

“…Hmph.”

Lirette bit down on her lower lip.

That strange and elusive sensation wandered over her nerves again. Her legs tensed involuntarily, knees drawn together tightly as she gripped the pillow.

Soon, her upper body instinctively leaned forward, as if trying to escape from Valderion’s touch. She wiggled and squirmed, attempting to avoid him.

But the more she moved, the more her loosely draped clothing slipped open, revealing more of her bare skin without her realizing it.

Whenever Valderion touched her, it brought a curious feeling.

‘She seems like she might break.’

How could someone live with a body so thin, he wondered, tracing the sharp lines from her waist to her hips. She was so frail, her figure resembling the brittle branches of winter. Every time he touched her, she trembled, as though this entire experience was nothing but pain for her.

Pain…

Valderion’s eyes narrowed.

He stared at the back of her head, buried deeply into the pillow. Since the first time he had seen her like this, something about the sight had unsettled him.

He hadn’t been able to pinpoint what bothered him—until today.

Pain, or perhaps humiliation.

The way she seemed to endure it.

That reaction was what made him uneasy.

A small, bitter laugh escaped from his smooth lips.

Today, it stood out to him even more clearly, perhaps because he vividly remembered how she had behaved around Camon just moments earlier. In front of the dog, she had been relaxed, unguarded. But here, in his grasp, she trembled as if terrified, like she couldn’t bear to be touched.

Something stirred inside him.

It was a kind of mischief.

“…Ah!”

Lirette, who had been burying her head deep into the pillow as if trying to disappear, suddenly let out a small scream as she was lifted off the bed.

Her vision spun.

By the time she regained her bearings, she found herself sitting on his lap, face to face. His golden eyes bore into her, so close they seemed to pierce through her.

Her entire body trembled with embarrassment.

Instinctively, Lirette pushed against his chest. But it didn’t move him, and the touch of her hands against his bare skin, revealed through his loose silk robe, made her recoil in shock.

“What are you—wh-why… Let me go!”

Her voice came out shaky and stammering, betraying her flustered state.

Valderion, holding Lirette securely as she struggled, wrapped his arm around her back. Between the folds of her loose robe, the light from the lamp highlighted the Name on her skin as it pressed against him.

“…Ah.”

Her fragile body, as delicate as the last remaining branches of winter, flinched and shuddered.

The tension in her muscles faded as she stopped resisting, and the sensation of her soft skin beneath his hand came back to him. Despite the scars and the blemish of the Name etched into her skin, the texture of her flesh was tender and inviting.

The supple resilience of her skin felt oddly sweet against his palm.

Valderion slowly licked his dry lips. His mouth felt dry, yet thick saliva pooled inside. The unfamiliar feeling gnawed at him, something raw and unsettling.

He gazed down at the woman in his arms with sharp, intent eyes.

Because of their size difference, even with her sitting on his lap, her face wasn’t much higher than his own.

Her Name—what she had been called all her life—rolled slowly through his thoughts. As Lirette’s breath quickened and she released hot, shallow sighs from her mouth, the edge of her silver hair peeked out, her reddened ear standing out like a pomegranate stain.

Her stubbornness remained, her lips pressed tightly together, defiant even now.

But with a slightly firmer, more deliberate touch to her Name, that defiance began to waver.

Her lips parted slightly, and he glimpsed the tip of her pink, soft tongue, wet and sticky from saliva. The sight of it, so flushed and delicate, held Valderion’s gaze captive.

“…!”

In that instant, their eyes met.

After avoiding each other’s gaze for so long, it was as if they had collided unintentionally, like sparks flying as wires crossed, sending a shiver of electricity through both their bodies.

Lirette instinctively turned her head away.

Seeing this, Valderion’s hand, which had been resting on her thigh, now gripped her chin.

“Don’t…”

“Don’t look away.”

Valderion’s words carried a force that reminded her of a wildfire—burning hot and simmering, his low voice seeping into her ears and setting them aflame.

No matter how hard she tried to pull away, his grip was far too strong for her to escape.

And so, Lirette’s flushed, panting face was fully exposed to him, overcome by a primitive excitement she couldn’t hide.

Valderion’s eyes, sharp as a finely honed blade, captured every detail.

He observed her like a predator locking onto its prey—intense, yet eerily calm.

Her pale pink eyes, reminiscent of rose quartz, trembled as his fingers brushed against her Name. The more teasing his touch, the more blatant her reaction became.

A sudden thought crossed his mind.

What would it taste like if I licked her eyes?

This was the first time he had ever felt the urge to roll someone’s eyeball across his tongue.

Her every reaction was drawing him in, captivating him in ways he hadn’t anticipated.

“Ugh… Hah.”

Lirette’s lashes fluttered, her gaze shifting rapidly as if she could hardly bear it. Her eyes—delicate and detailed, like they’d been painted with care—began to glisten with moisture.

She was embarrassed to be in such a state, trembling in his arms, her shame reflected in the damp sheen forming in her eyes.

Before long, she squeezed her eyes shut, unable to bear it any longer, her hands clutching his robe tightly as if to shield herself from the unbearable feelings swirling inside her. As if closing her eyes would allow her to escape both the overwhelming emotions and the reality of the situation.

Valderion, seeing her reaction, smirked bitterly.

Sigh…

Finally, the sand in the hourglass had all fallen to the bottom.

Thirty minutes had passed.

When it was over, Lirette lay sprawled out on the bed, completely drained.

She knew this was the Duke’s bed, and that she wasn’t supposed to relax on it without permission. But her body, wrung out of energy, yearned for rest.

It had been a routine session, nothing out of the ordinary.

But the simple change in their positioning—facing each other—had weighed heavily on her mind. The memory of his eyes, as though they were ready to devour her, came back to her, and the thought made her chest tighten with anxiety. It felt as if the residual tension still lingered in the air around her.

“You seem ready to take over the entire bed.”

Valderion’s voice came from above her as he stood near the head of the bed, having just returned from drinking a glass of water. His words, though light, had the distinct tone of a dismissal, making Lirette’s momentary peace evaporate.

Swallowing hard, she mustered the will to sit up. Her body, feeling as heavy as soaked cotton, resisted, but she managed to pull herself upright and swing her legs over the side of the bed, beginning to button her clothes.

“I’ll be leaving.”

The moment she stood up, a wave of dizziness hit her. The lingering aftereffects of their interaction left her lightheaded.

“Ah…!”

Her vision blurred, and she felt as if her limbs had lost all sense of direction. As she stumbled, Valderion, familiar with her condition by now, reached out and supported her by the waist.

“Your face is redder than usual.”

As her vision cleared and she blinked to refocus, she realized that his face—the same one that had made her so uncomfortable earlier—was now right in front of her, his piercing eyes staring into hers.

Uncomfortable.

Lirette instinctively pulled away, raising her hand to touch her cheek. Her skin felt warm, as if feverish. It wasn’t just her imagination—Valderion had commented on it too, noting her redder-than-usual face.

How could I be even more flushed now than when I was burying my face in the pillow?

“It’s because… you changed positions suddenly,” she stammered.

“Is that so? Then get used to it.”

“What?”

“Get used to it.”

It felt like someone had dumped a bucket of cold water over her head.

Lirette’s lips parted, her words stuck in her throat as she struggled to find her voice.

“Do you mean…?”

“We’ll keep doing it like this from now on.”

As she feared.

Valderion was intent on maintaining the same position that had drained her so thoroughly today.

That same position where his body, his heat, and his gaze were inescapable.